She slid into bed and reached for the notebook she kept in her night table drawer—a record of Ashley’s progress. A journal of events. She hoped and prayed that whoever played the sax that evening was a youngster like Ash—a teenager would be fine. A sweet, gentle girl or boy who might help to draw her daughter out of the shell she’d created. Created because of a monster.
Kristin’s palm stung. Glancing down, she saw her fisted hand, knuckles white and nails pressed hard against her skin. The purple indentations would last a long while. Every time she thought about what had happened to Ash…No, no. She had to forget the bastard. Focus on Ashley. Help her. Even if the monster was never caught, Ashley had to move forward and live her life. Maybe by August, her daughter would start acting like the energetic girl she’d been instead of the timid child she’d become. And if, God willing, she did, Kristin would never, ever complain about her messy bedroom again. She hated Ash’s current need for perfection in every room. Another reminder of the monster.
She made notes about Ashley’s participation in that night’s concert, then turned out the lamp and sought a comfortable position. They were making some progress, and tomorrow might be even better than today. Maybe she should forcefully encourage Ashley to speak. The therapist said Ashley would talk when she was ready, but it was hard to straddle the line between gentle encouragement and overexpectation. Finally, Kristin told herself that she was doing the best she could and went to sleep.
Her hope for a better day crashed the next morning when she stood with Ashley on the front porch. Jogging down Lakeside Road—the blacktop route that circled the waterfront community—was a man and a dog. Sweat darkened the athlete’s shirt, and the dog—well, the silver-black shepherd was gorgeous but humongous. And not leashed.
Ashley leaned against her.
“What’s the matter, honey?”
Now, her child stepped behind her.
Kristin turned around. “Please, Ash. Talk to me. Tell me. Use words.”
But Ashley pressed her lips together, her eyes wide and unblinking. Trancelike.
No, no, no. They didn’t need any setbacks. She wouldn’t force the issue, especially when she knew very well why Ashley was frightened. The man. The dog. Easy to see.
“Maybe they’ll keep on running,” Kristin said softly, “all the way out of sight. Maybe they live on the other side of the lake and that would be a couple of miles.” And maybe pigs really did fly.
Her heart sank as, through the trees, she spotted the duo turn into a driveway two houses down—and sensed Ashley’s retreat inside.
“Did you know, Ash,” she said, intercepting her, “that the German shepherd is one of the most intelligent animals on the planet?” Whether this was actually a fact, she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t care. She took Ashley’s hand and led her to the rocking chairs they’d set out upon their arrival the week before. “These dogs are so smart, they help the police detect hidden illegal drugs. They can find lost people just by sniffing a piece of their clothing before searching for them.”
Ashley nodded, then opened her arms wide.
“Yes, the dogs are big. They have to be. They’ve got muscles for running and endurance for searching, and that helps them find a lost person.”
Ashley rose and measured a four-foot height with her hand.
“Kids? Sure. They find kids as well as adults.”
The girl’s eyes brightened for a moment, then she shivered.
“What are you thinking, Ash?” What threats had the monster made? “Please, sweetheart. I can help you.”
Ashley shook her head and stared at the floor. Kristin swallowed hard. Again, her daughter was shutting her out, refusing her help to ease the pain. To face the fear.
She leaned over and gave Ashley a kiss. “I love you, baby. Forever and ever. And nothing can change that.”
The child hugged her tightly before glancing in the direction where the man and his companion had disappeared. Then she peered over her shoulder at their own front door.
But Kristin had had enough of hiding. No dog or man was going to prevent Ashley from feeling safe here, from enjoying herself outside, whether she was reading a book or swimming in the lake.
“Let’s introduce ourselves, Ash. Then the dog will know we belong here, and we won’t have to be concerned. If we bring some cookies, he’ll love us forever. It’s the neighborly thing to do. And if the dog can’t eat them, the man will.”
Kristin rose from the chair and motioned to her daughter. “Come on. We’ve got some peanut butter ones from yesterday’s batch.” She watched Ashley drag her feet into the house, but didn’t change her mind about going to see their neighbors.
What should have taken a quick minute took ten with Ashley moving in slow motion. Finally, however, they stood in front of 68 Lakeside Road. Kristin knocked.
Thirty seconds later, the big man filled the doorway. He was fresh from a shower, with a towel around his neck, and wearing a water-spotted T-shirt and a different pair of running shorts. He studied them in silence for a moment, the dog sitting at perfect attention at his side. Kristin’s heart sank. She hadn’t counted on unfriendly neighbors.
And then he smiled, his steel-gray eyes melting to a soft gray mist. “Are you guys lost? I don’t recognize you.”
Whew! What a change. The hunk was friendly. Shocked at her thoughts, Kristin stood tongue-tied. She hadn’t noticed any man in four years.
She handed the cookies to him and offered their names. “We’re staying at the Goldman place until August. We saw you running with your…uh, pal here…your rather large pal…so we came to meet him. And you, too, of course.” Her face burned. Her skin had to be cherry-red, the downside of being a fair-skinned blonde. To compensate, she thrust her chin up and forced herself to look directly at him.
“House-sitting for the Goldmans?”
“Something like that,” she replied, this time smoothly. “Marsha is a good friend of mine.”
He nodded and studied her as though memorizing her features for future reference. Then he turned toward Ashley and a pain-filled expression crossed his face.
Ashley’s fingers touched Kristin’s.
Immediately, the man smiled as if nothing had happened. “Rick Cooper,” he said, extending his hand first to her, then to Ashley. “I’m happy to meet you both.”
Kristin watched Ash’s reaction. Slowly, without speaking, her daughter placed her hand in Rick’s and let it remain for a complete handshake. Kristin exhaled in relief, knowing she’d record the action in the journal. It was important enough.
Now, he motioned them inside. A big country kitchen ran from front to back on the right side of the house. Oak floors, a large oak dining table. He took the cookies and led them to a breakfast nook in the back toward the lake. On the way, Kristin saw an informal library and game room on the left, a staircase and another room beyond it. Once in the breakfast nook, she noticed the large back porch and guessed that every house had a screened arrangement overlooking the lake. This was a house for a family.
“Do you have any kids?” she asked conversationally. “Ashley is eleven.”
“I’m single. But my niece and nephew will be up at the end of the month.”
Single by choice, she thought. His choice. With his looks and physique, he could attract a swarm. “We’ll look forward to meeting them, too.”
“If you ladies take a seat, I’ll put Quincy through his paces and then introduce you up close and personal.”
“Thank you, Rick. We really appreciate your time.”
Rick gestured, and the dog sat at attention, watching his owner. With hand signals only, he had the dog sit, lie down, walk at heel, stay, ignore treats he’d placed on the floor, and shake hands with him. Perfect performance. The reward came quickly in the form of praise and one of the doggie treats. And applause from Kristin.
She didn’t wait for Rick’s invitation, but impulsively knelt down to pet the beautiful animal, scratching his head and crooning softly t
o him. She got a lick for her efforts. The beast was friendly and liked to nuzzle. She beamed at Ashley, totally reassured.
“Your turn, honey. He may be big, he may even resemble a gray wolf, but he’s a lovable baby.”
Ashley stayed seated.
Rick knelt next to the dog, held his collar and spoke softly to Ashley. “Where I live in the city, all the kids play with Quincy, and that’s when he’s the happiest. They throw balls for him, they roll on the ground with him, but most of all they hug him and talk to him.” He winked at her, and said, “He’s their special friend.”
Ashley barely blinked.
“Right now,” continued Rick, “Quincy’s a little lonely.” He spoke to the dog. “Are you sad, boy?”
The dog whined and licked him. “See what I mean, Ashley? Now it’s Quincy who could use a special friend, a friend right here at Morningstar Lake.”
He motioned to the child and smiled with such encouragement that Kristin held her breath, waiting for her daughter’s response.
Without a word, Ashley slid from her chair and, step by cautious step, approached Rick from the side, avoiding a face-to-face with Quincy.
“See how fast he’s wagging his tail? He’s smiling at you, Ashley. Notice the way his tongue’s hanging out of the side of his mouth? Man, I hate to admit this handsome boy looks silly, but he sure does.”
Was that a giggle? Or a squeaky shoe? Kristin stared at Ashley, but her daughter was totally focused on Quincy. Could this be a turning point for her?
Continuing his soft patter, the man somehow maneuvered them to the front porch, the dog at heel next to Ashley, while she held his leash. The two walked up and down the entire width of the porch several times until Rick motioned them to stop. Quincy, however, didn’t seem ready to lose his new friend. He tucked his head under Ashley’s arm, looked up with adoring eyes and licked her cheek and neck. His tail wagged so hard its breeze gave Kristin goose bumps.
“He likes me!” The delight in Ashley’s voice was unmistakable as she hugged the big canine.
Words! A sentence. Voluntarily uttered. Kristin couldn’t move. Nor could she stop her tears—or the horrified expression on Rick’s face when he saw them.
His reaction didn’t matter. Her tears didn’t matter. Only Ashley mattered. Ashley and her breakthrough. An entire sentence! Kristin would call Dr. Kaplan. Now they’d move forward. She just knew it.
CHAPTER TWO
THE LITTLE GIRL WAS a sweetheart, and her mom a real looker. Smart, too. Smart enough to visit him and Quincy. But something about his two neighbors didn’t add up. Lots of kids had to get used to the dog—he was oversize, after all. But what was the woman crying about? The kid had finally relaxed and jumped into the conversation…and the mother cried? It made no sense.
Oh, hell. If life always made sense, Rick’s fourteen hours of negotiation would have turned out differently, and three people would be alive right now. He figured Kristin and Ashley had their secrets and were entitled to them.
Thirty minutes after his neighbors left, he whistled for the hound, locked the house and got into his Honda Pilot. Quincy rode in the front passenger seat as usual, with a safety harness around him—air bag disengaged, of course. Traveling on what could be Main Street, USA, Rick made his way to the sheriff’s office on the far side of town.
Ignoring Sam Keaton was not an option. The older man already knew Rick was at the lake. Not that Rick had spoken to him. He simply knew how Sam worked and how the town worked—news traveled, especially to the sheriff. Yesterday, Rick had purchased groceries and said hello to a few old friends, so someone was sure to have spread the word. Sam would be expecting him.
In the strip mall lot, he parked in a designated visitor’s space and walked into the storefront office. It was a big room divided into functional areas, with Sam Keaton in the center of everything. The man had a private office as well, but in the ordinary course of events, he preferred to be in view if he wasn’t on the road.
Sam greeted him with pleasure and a slap on the back, but with no surprise. Rick returned the greeting with a grin. “I see the party line’s still working, huh?”
“You bet. Best system in the world,” the officer replied as he leaned over to talk to Quincy while scratching the underside of his muzzle. The dog whined in pleasure while Rick helped himself to a cup of coffee.
“So, what brings you to Morningstar Lake?” asked Sam. “That’s the part I don’t know yet.”
Before Rick could respond, however, Sam snapped his fingers. “Hey—were you called in to negotiate the hostage situation down the road in Oakridge the night before last? It came across the wires. A domestic thing. A man, wife and his two kids. Right up your alley. Just the sort of situation you handle all the time.”
Rick’s stomach knotted and nausea rose, but he put on his cop face, showing nothing. “Nope. I don’t work those cases anymore, Sam. In fact, I’m not working any cases. I’m done.” An inner calm descended as he said the words. “I’m here with Quincy, my saxophone and my fishing rod. In fact, we’re heading toward Sweet Trout River right now.”
Sam’s gaze appeared to include X-ray vision, and Rick wasn’t surprised to hear the sheriff say, “Well, I see you’re still carrying your piece. But I like your plan. It’s sound for a person who needs a break.”
Rick put his foot up on a chair and leaned forward. “I’m not on a break, Sam. I’m open to ideas for a new direction.”
“New direction, eh? Such as?” The man gave him his full attention.
“Such as…” Good question. His mind had been rolling with general ideas, but now he needed specifics. “How about hotel security? We’ve got a couple of those in the area. Or corporate security? Heck, parking lot security looks good to me now. I need something requiring less adrenaline than what I’ve done.”
“Hmm. You want me to ask around?”
“Sure. I can relocate. I’ve got no family ties in the city to hold me back.”
“Well,” said the sheriff, “in this case, that’s a good thing. But a security guard earns a fraction of what you earn now.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’d appreciate your help.” His needs were small. He just had to become someone else.
“You’ve got it. Maybe I’ll come up with something.”
Something before next week would be good—before his first phone appointment with Doc Romano.
Rick cleared his throat. “Sam,” he began, hating himself for asking, “how did the crisis in Oakridge work out?”
The sheriff’s broad grin sent a wave of relief through Rick. “Good,” Rick said. “I’m glad they had the right personnel.” Someone competent had handled that situation.
“The towns share crisis teams,” said Sam, “but sometimes we have to ask for outside help. I heard the negotiator came from downstate, and when you showed up…” He left the rest unsaid.
The sheriff crouched on the floor again and spoke to Quincy. “You’ve got a job to do, big boy. You’ve got to take care of this guy. And, while you’re at it, you can watch out for those two little ladies nearby. The woman’s on her own, and Marsha Goldman told me they could use a friend or two.”
Friend? Well, Rick could volunteer for that job. No salary needed. Improving his social life was on his agenda, too. He eyed the dog. Even Quincy would be an asset. He was a sucker for kids.
HE LIKES ME!
Ashley’s words had haunted Kristin for the rest of the day, into the night and into the following morning, as well. Her wonderful daughter was grateful for a dog’s affection. It was beyond pathetic. It was pitiful. And Ash hadn’t spoken again since she’d uttered those three words.
Disappointed and discouraged, Kristin was a sad case, too. Behind the wheel of her car the next afternoon, she felt like howling.
Prior to the rape, Ashley had been a people magnet. She’d been an outgoing child who made friends easily and naturally, with a half-dozen girlfriends who regularly came to the house. And as for the phone—had it bee
n just a short while ago that Kristin had threatened to block all incoming numbers on Ashley’s cell except the ones from Kris’s office and their house? And now…
She turned toward Ashley, who was sitting in the passenger seat. “Seat belt buckled?”
The blond head moved up and down quickly.
“Come on, honey. You can talk now.”
No response.
Obviously, her child had the skill. She’d spoken with the dog just yesterday.
“Should we kidnap Quincy?”
“Mom!” Ashley’s horrified tone made Kristin laugh. Gotcha, sweetheart.
The dog was the key. Maybe Ashley felt safer with the big mutt. Maybe she thought general conversation with Kristin would lead to talking about the incident, so she said nothing. Maybe she was afraid her mother would ask a lot of questions again. Maybe this, maybe that. A lot of maybes when Kristin wanted answers.
Despite her disappointment, she tried not to push Ashley. She was careful to follow the advice of the therapist, who was using a bunch of manipulative materials—dolls, clay, art supplies, children’s blocks—to encourage Ashley. But sometimes Kristin found it almost impossible to keep silent.
Her daughter had been visiting the psychologist every week since the rape, and Kristin hadn’t seen much progress. She wanted her old Ashley back!
Moreover, if her daughter didn’t improve, the police would never get a description of the attacker. The police. Another disappointment. It seemed to her they expected Ashley to solve the crime! What had they been doing in the interim? Sure, they’d assigned her an advocate, but that person had no new information. Just that the case was open and being investigated. How? Kristin didn’t know. It all seemed to come back to Ash providing a description. But all the art supplies in the world were worth nothing if Ash didn’t use them. The longer it took, the colder the case became. And Kristin wanted the bastard found. It had already been over seven weeks.
Linda Barrett - Count on a Cop Page 2