Holding her away from him, he whispered comfortingly, “Liz, don’t cry over this, not because of him. We are going to catch this guy, I swear. Actually, I think this might be a good thing, evidence wise at least. He never expected us to find those cameras, which means that he might not have planned any sideways clues. These cameras, this invasion of your privacy, it’s horrible, and it makes me sick to my stomach, but it might help us catch him.” At first, he thought she might fight him, or freak out over what he had said. In truth, he wouldn’t have blamed her, it’s what he wanted to do when he thought about it too closely, but she didn’t. She simply stared at him, her face unreadable, for a long moment. Matt started to wish she had gotten angry, started arguing over what he had said, at least then he would know her mind, but the calm on her face was settling into his bones like concrete, dragging him down into fear.
“You’re right. He didn’t think I would ever know they were there. Okay, well, the lab has them now, so…wait, did you say the force used to use that kind?” She was herself again and he was so excited to see it he hugged her tight against him again. She hugged him back, but he could tell from her posture that she was in detective mode, so he did his best to mirror her.
“Yeah, we used to use them for surveillance, but we gave them up for the model that included sound in a smaller package. That was like, oh, eight, nine months ago now. These were pretty good, but having to run sound separately was a pain.” Releasing her slowly, he retrieved his phone and began to dial. “Detective Barrow, badge number 34521, I need a few uniforms to come back to 15287 W 104th St. I need them to canvas the building again, this time they will be looking for any empty apartments and single males. Make notes on those apartments, but don’t engage them.” After a short pause he started again, the whole time watching Elizabeth pace, chewing, ever so gently, on the side of her thumb nail and wishing that it was his ear lobe. “Tell them it’s about the Lyski murder again, have them asking if anyone noticed anything Tuesday of last week. Yes…that’s right…thanks.” Hanging up, he looked at her.
“I doubt he has an apartment here, but we will check anyway. We always monitored these from a car. Chances are, that’s what he did as well.” He followed her graceful steps with his eyes as she continued to pace, wondering what was rolling around in that lovely, dark red head of hers. “Liz, what are you thinking?”
Elizabeth stopped pacing for a moment to watch Matt cross his arms in front of him as he leaned against the bar. He was sure she had to look away for fear of running into his arms. Despite how desperately she wanted to hold him, to be held by him, this was far more important than her personal needs, and he admired her for it. “Why does he want that file so badly, Matt? It’s a nine year old murder, and my copy is so redacted that you can’t really get much. We couldn’t even get anything useful from the murder weapon, aside from a manufacturer that doesn’t make it anymore. Just like the dress!” She paced again, more furiously this time.
“Maybe he didn’t know it was redacted. I think we need to get a better look at the original file. Come on, lets get some lunch and head back to the station. I think we are going to be spending the rest of the afternoon on the phone.” Standing he reached for her elbow and led her, once again, from her apartment, knowing full well that if there had been any doubt in her mind about moving, the cameras had ended it.
Chapter 36
“May I speak with Detective Pannel please? Oh, okay, Captain Pannel then, it’s very important. My name is Detective Elizabeth Cord, of New York City Homicide. Yes, um, could you tell him that Marabella Concord needs his help? No, I’ll wait.” She shot Matt a halfhearted scowl as he snickered at her. He was having even less luck with his call, but hearing her say her real name sent the snicker running through him like wild fire and he was helpless to restrain it.
Covering the mouth piece of his phone, he whispered, “Don’t worry Miss Marabella, no man in his right mind would keep you waiting long.” With a wink and a smile he turned back to his call. After a few minutes of being on hold and shuffled from investigator to investigator, he was finally listening to the information the lab had found concerning the attack in her apartment. As interested as he was in what they had to tell him, he found himself trying harder to listen to Elizabeth’s resumed conversation than his own. Unable to focus, he simply told the investigator that he would pop down and pick up the reports so that he could study them in detail. With his call ended, he pointed to the elevator and Elizabeth seemed to understand what he meant, nodding lightly as she continued her conversation.
“Where is Elizabeth staying, Detective Barrow? Is she safe?” Turning to face the question, he found the bulk of the Captain standing next to him at the elevator. His almost black eyes were narrowed on him, and Matt felt an unreasonable discomfort under the gaze.
“She said she was staying with a friend. I’m not sure of the name, or even the address.” Matt was less than pleased with the lie, but he was sure that telling Moreano Elizabeth was sharing his bed would end him, possibly literally. Though he wasn’t sure if he was more afraid for his career, or his life.
“They said at the hospital that you picked her up. I just want to know that she is safe. Oh, did you find anything in her apartment today?” His tone never changed, but his eyes seemed to grow slightly fierce. Matt was almost relieved when the elevator doors opened. As he slipped into the car, he said, “I did, she had me drive her to a cafe where her friend was waiting, and yes sir, we did find surveillance equipment in her apartment. Seems the killer was keeping an eye on her.” He saw Moreano’s rather befuddled expression as the doors closed.
Downstairs he had to make four stops to get all the reports he needed. Jack Arrons met him at the last, D.N.A. After a short conversation, and the exchange of a report, Matt was rushing back upstairs to Elizabeth. He had something important to share and he knew she would be just as anxious for the news as he had been. As the elevator doors closed on him, he had a sudden pang of dread, wondering if the Captain would be waiting for him at the doors, ready to continue their awkward discussion. He held his breath as the doors opened, but to his relief there was no hulking man waiting for the rest of his information. When he drew near to the their desks, Elizabeth was nowhere to be found. For a moment his heart froze, but as he was about to go looking for her, she emerged from the break room with two cups of coffee.
“Pannel is sending us scans of the original case file this afternoon. He remembered me, if you can believe that. Pretty well, too. He really didn’t want to send me that file. Said he wasn’t going to be responsible for the psychological damage it might do to me.” As she finished she smiled at him, just so, and he felt his chest tighten. Taking the extra cup from her, he spread the four reports he had gathered across the desk in front of them. The first few, finger print analysis, tool marks, and the chemical and assault kits used on Elizabeth, were of little interest. Aside from the names of the other three assailants, all just as dirty and homeless as their friend Terry Blanchard, they gave them little to get excited about. The analysis of the cameras from her apartment gave them something that ended in nothing. The serial numbers, though someone had attempted to obscure them, were traced back to a lot that at one time had indeed belonged to the department. Matt and Elizabeth had both found that intriguing, but as that lot was sold to a private security company when the department had upgraded, and that firm had since gone belly up, they found themselves starring dejectedly at yet another dead end. While the lab technicians were contacting what was left of the company to see if perhaps they had records on who had purchased those particular cameras, Matt was not holding his breath. After all, those private firms were not famous for meticulous record keeping. The D.N.A report, however, was by far the most important. They found six samples in her apartment, not five.
“You were right, Liz. The man in your room did get cut by the mirror, not deeply judging by how little they found, but enough to run the analysis. There was one unidentified blood sample in your ap
artment. They ran it against the other assailants, but nothing matched. Right now they are running it through C.O.D.I.S. Hopefully we will know something tonight or tomorrow.” Between the two of them, they set about pinning and adding things to their crime board. They spent the remainder of the afternoon mulling over theories and missing pieces of information waiting for any news, either the unredacted file or the D.N.A. results, but nothing seemed to be in a hurry.
At nearly six, Matt rubbed his face, trying to wipe away the frustration. They seemed to be arguing in circles. Trying to answer one question simply allowed three or four more to pop up. Leaning back in his chair to admire the slight curve of Elizabeth’s back as she stood in front of the board puzzling away, he caught a glimpse of the clock behind and above her on the wall. His dinner reservation bit him on the rear as if it was a dog. They had less than an hour and a half to get back to the apartment and make it to the restaurant. Jumping up from his desk, he started stacking the files neatly into one his drawers and said, “Elizabeth, we need to go. I made us a dinner reservation this morning and if we don’t get moving now, we’re going to miss it.” For a second he swore a wicked smile flicked across her face, but she composed herself quickly and followed suit.
Elizabeth could hardly contain her surprise at his revelation. She rushed to join him at the elevator, her insides twisted in knots and fluttering all over. Her first real date, it was perhaps the only thing enticing enough to pull her away from this case. Her nerves didn’t calm down during the ride back to his apartment, especially considering his tight lips concerning their plans for the evening. She tried to sweet talk a few details out of him, but he remained ever so stoic, even when she tried to pull him into the shower with her. Despite the very obvious reaction he had in favor, he managed to restrain himself…eventually.
At nearly seven, she was bent over the bathroom sink trying as hard as she could to remember everything Alex had ever taught her about cosmetics. She had watched, many times, as Alex transform herself form a beautiful girl into a Hollywood starlet back in high school. She had done her very best, after all, tonight was very important to her and she was no stranger to make-up. She wore a little every day, lip gloss, mascara, little things, but this was something else. She was hell bent that Matt would wish he had never made those reservations, in spite of the fact that she was dying to go. Taking a step back, she admired herself. The lavender cocktail dress was wonderfully cut, with a low dipped neck, mid-thigh length flared skirt, and the body of it hugged her curves perfectly. With her hair curled and tumbling around her shoulders, she was quite proud of herself. For the first time, she felt as beautiful as Matt kept insisting she was. Smiling nervously at her reflection, she left the bathroom, grabbed her shawl and matching clutch bag from the bed, and exited the bedroom to join Matt, who was waiting impatiently in the living room.
As she pulled the shawl about her shoulders, she said, “Okay, Matt, I’m ready for this mystery date.” She watched as he set Bucky down on the floor and stood to face her. He had been about to speak when his eyes found her, forcing his voice, and his breath it seemed, right out of his chest. The second his eyes fell on her his jaw dropped. She rippled with pleasure as she watched him drink her in as if he had never laid eyes on her before. Taking a few steps toward the door, he managed to stammer a few words behind her.
“Elizabeth, you’re…you look amazing…” His voice was weak and breathy, as if it was all he could do to form the words. Glancing at him over her shoulder, she smiled slyly, loving the way he seemed so off balance he might fall at any moment. Taking several ragged strides in her direction, he drew up beside her, so close that she could feel his chest heaving against her arm with irregular, labored gasps. “I think maybe I would rather stay in now.” His voice was dripping with want and desire, and she could feel his eyes moving over her as if she was a priceless work of art. She mused that, to him, she might be. She did not doubt for a moment that he loved her, but she wanted more than anything to go out, to experience the life she had avoided for so many years.
“Matt, I want to go out. It’s my first date, remember?” She gave him a little pout and was gratified to hear him whimper. It was beyond exciting to think that she had so much power over him.
“How can I take you out like this? Every man in New York will try to take you from me, and I can’t stand to think of losing you.” His mouth was very close to her ear now, and she could feel his hands moving over her back in a effort to distract her into staying with him. But she was determined.
“We’re going out to dinner, not a livestock market. Besides, they can try all they like, I’m not going anywhere.” Her hand was already on the knob, and as she wrenched it open and swayed seductively into the hallway, Matt quickly joined her, taking her hand. He didn’t let her go. Not in the elevator, not in the car, and not as they crossed the street from the valet station to the front door of Le Chailise. “Matt! This is where we are having dinner?” She swallowed hard. While she had been hoping for something romantic and memorable, the best, most exclusive, not to mention expensive, restaurant in Manhattan was not what she had expected.
As they stepped into the entry, she tried not to make a fool of herself. The art on the walls, and the exquisite nature of the gowns and suits worn by the other patrons, made her feel exceedingly self conscious, but perhaps Matt had been right. She could feel the eyes moving over her from every passing guest. She wasn’t sure if she should feel embarrassed or exhilarated. Judging by the tightening, possessive grip that her partner had on her, perhaps the latter was more appropriate. When they reached the Maitre D`, Matt pulled her close to him and smiled at the bald, and rather snobbish looking, little man behind the podium. At first, he looked as if he was going to ignore them, but, in a cold, condescending tone, he snidely asked, “Do you have a reservation?”
“Yes, Barrow, table for two.” Much to Elizabeth’s surprise, the snobbish man’s entire attitude changed instantly. At once, he became warm and friendly, as if they were old friends he hadn’t seen in some time.
“Ah, yes! Mr. Barrow! We have our most private, romantic, table for you and your lovely companion. We are always happy to see you and, if I may, it’s been far too long.” Snapping his sausage fingers a few times briskly in the air, they were immediately joined by a well dressed waiter ready and prepared to lead them to this “perfect” table. She passed between the candlelit tables where couples, young and old, dressed to the nines, were seated, eating everything from salad to lobster, and all seeming perfectly willing to stop eating and stare at them as they wafted by. The table, when they were finally there, was exactly what the bald host had claimed. Tucked into the corner, it was private, dimly lit, and shielded from view by sheer curtains pulled back slightly on elegant curtain hooks. Matt held her chair out for her before taking his place. She listened, intently, as he ordered them a bottle of wine and an appetizer. When the waiter had left, she smiled at him.
“So, either you made this reservation three months ago for another woman and I just got lucky, or you have something to tell me, mister ‘I didn’t know you came from money’.” She gave him a sly smile as she slid her hand into his on the table. He flushed, causing heat to radiate through her to the point that she squirmed in her seat, something he did not miss, judging by his wicked grin.
“Guilty. I only started seeing you because this reservation meant so much to me…” She playfully hit him in the shoulder and he laughed, encasing her hand in both of his, they stared at each other for a second in silence. With a deep sigh he started, “Let’s just say, I don’t hurt for social standing, and neither does my family.” She could tell from the waiver in his voice that he was uncomfortable talking abut it, but she wanted more.
“So, you’re one of those Barrows, Manhattan royalty. You hide it very well. Tell me, was your family just as dismayed when you joined the academy as mine?” He laughed out loud now, and she loved it. His voice, his laugh, was like music. They had spent all day focused on such
horrid, tragic things that this moment of romance and privacy seemed surreal and intoxicating.
“Yes, I am one of those Barrows, but I hope that doesn’t change anything for you. They were, and are, very upset at me, but they are getting over it. The only reason I teased you about coming from money is that my mother always wanted me to find a girl of ‘proper blood’ and, despite picking a woman who hated men, despised me, and could kick my ass if she wanted, I managed to do exactly that. It was more thrilling than you can imagine to find another blue blood wearing a blue collar for the same reasons as I do. Just one more link.” The waiter returned with the wine and set about a very practiced dance with Matthew of cork sniffing and tasting, which he navigated beautifully. When they had finished and the waiter asked if they were ready to order, Elizabeth made a gesture for Matt to order for her, which he did, in French no less. She sipped the fruity wine he had selected, trying to decide what wicked thing she was going to do first when they made it back to the apartment to say thank you for what was already the best date she had ever imagined, much less had.
When the waiter was gone, she slid her fingers between his and purred, “Link in what?” His face drew almost near enough for her to kiss him, and she wanted to terribly, but she didn’t dare, not here.
“The chain you have around my heart, Liz.” She gasped as he kissed her, gently at first, but, as she kissed back, it deepened. He reluctantly pulled back far enough to look her in the eye, still cradling the side of her face. His hand held her so gently that she felt compelled to turn into it and kiss his palm. She could feel the eyes on her, half a restaurant full of people taking in the scene they were making with rapt attention, but she didn’t care. His eyes moved over her with unhidden affection and she wished she had let him keep her in the apartment. “Liz, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”
Little Belle Gone Page 19