“Jeez, Austin.”
Brownlee began, “I got the first one on Wednesday of last week, but tossed it. These two came yesterday morning. I opened them after we found the cat.”
“They came after the cat was killed?”
“No. They were already at my house when I found the cat.” Brownlee took a smaller baggie out of his inside jacket pocket. “And then I got this one first thing this morning. It didn’t come in the mail, of course. It was left in my box sometime last night or this morning.”
Clark opened the offered bag and laid the contents on top. There was a photocopy of a picture. A man’s muscular fist was around the neck of a grey and white tabby cat. The cat’s body was limp. A tattoo of a three-toed frog tracks extended from the man’s wrist to the inside of his elbow.
“I’ve seen this tat before,” Riverton said.
“Where?” Dr. Brownlee asked.
Riverton fired a look that drilled all the way to Brownlee’s soul. “On my dead brother-in-law.”
Brownlee didn’t know what to say.
“He was in the Navy. Special Forces. In Afghanistan, about four years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
Riverton looked back at the picture in his hands.
“That was—is—Noodles, Libby’s cat,” Brownlee said.
Riverton slowly shook his head. “He’s one sick bastard.”
Brownlee knew by the expression on Riverton’s face this wasn’t going to have a happy ending. “I gotta ask you, Austin. Why the hell did you wait until you had a dead cat and three letters to show me?”
His shrugged. Denial? Yeah, probably. He felt tired, defeated. “No reason, Clark. Just thought it would blow over.”
“And the last time one of these fuckers just rode off into the sunset without killing someone human, was when, exactly?”
Did Riverton think he was an idiot? His right eye twitched.
“Austin, look, I know you are one helluva psychiatrist, but you know as well as I do, this is a police matter now. Besides which, you’re too damn close to work this case or try to do things on your own. You don’t mess around with these types. Ever. You understand?”
“Yes. So, where do we start?”
“We don’t start anywhere. You’re out.”
“That’s not possible. This involves my family.”
“These situations always involve someone’s family. Hell, I don’t have to tell you that. Someone’s family knows about this guy, and has overlooked the symptoms. Gave him the benefit of the doubt and now he’s out causing all kind of havoc for innocent people.”
Innocent people? What if I’m guilty?
“So, I’m supposed to sit on my hands?” he said. He was getting irritated.
“You won’t like this answer. I’m going to need a profile of all your patients.”
Brownlee shook his head and held up his palms. “Can’t do that.”
“Yes you can, if it will save a life.”
“I think the guy is targeting me, and isn’t a danger to the public.”
“That’s horseshit and you know it, Austin.” Riverton held up the picture of the cat. “He’s already a danger to the public. See what I mean about being too close?”
He knew Clark was right. Just didn’t want to think about it more than he had to.
“You got a monitoring system on the house? Cameras?” Clark queried.
“Wouldn’t have helped the cat any.”
“Fuck’s sake, Austin. I’m not thinking about the goddamned cat!”
“I’ll look into it,” Brownlee said, adjusting his collar and rolling his shoulder.
“You better treat this seriously, Austin. And watch everything going on around you, even if you think it doesn’t matter.”
“Okay, point taken. But, I don’t think it’s someone I’m treating. Clark, you have to give me some credit. I’d spot this guy a mile away.”
Riverton leaned back in his chair. “I understand. I might even agree with you. But we just can’t take any chances. I think you seriously should consider moving out of your house. Take a vacation. You need to get away from here and let us do the job we get paid to do.”
He’d never get Carla out of the house. There had to be some other way. He didn’t want to let this letter-writing cretin feel like he’d won. If he could spare telling Carla about those letters, he would.
Not a chance. Have to tell her now. Tell her tonight.
“Clark, we’re not going anywhere. We stand and fight,” he said at last.
“This isn’t a war, Austin.”
“Oh, no?”
“Look—you recognize the signs—this guy wants to get caught. He’ll keep doing this until he does. He can’t help himself.”
“My only concern is for my wife and daughter.”
“Exactly. Glad you’re thinking straight. I’m worried about the whole lot of you, even if you’re not. They’ve got to leave. If you won’t go, then please, Austin, make sure they do.”
Driving home, Dr. Brownlee didn’t know how to tell his wife he agreed with his detective friend. He’d have to dynamite her from the property. It would be easier to transplant their twenty-five year old fruit orchard and her flowerbeds than get her to leave. But he had to try.
Or, he could hire a private security firm to watch the house. He knew Carla would hate feeling like she was in prison. So would he. Maybe get some cameras and monitors added to his alarm system. Yeah, that might work. And if it didn’t?
He had to discuss it with her before Riverton’s team came over tomorrow to interview the three of them.
If she had to move, he wasn’t sure how he’d protect her unless they stayed together. It wouldn’t work to have her move and him stay behind to help catch the guy, so that option was out. Libby would be back in grad school, living with her roommate off campus, but probably rarely alone. She would be safe enough. Brownlee doubted she was the target, anyway.
He didn’t like either option. He didn’t like not being in control, not that he didn’t trust the police and his friend of twenty-plus years. He just knew he was likely to notice things they would miss. If he was not there, how would those instincts be able to help?
As he approached his house, he saw a red scooter parked up by the rollup door at the end of the driveway, making it impossible for him to enter his own garage. Anger welled up. That damned SEAL had already inserted himself in his family, no doubt using his charm on his wife and daughter.
Briskly striding over the patterned concrete stones leading from the garage, he made it to his front porch just as the antique metal and glass door opened and out stepped the SEAL, towering over him.
Sneaky bastard, visiting with my wife and daughter while I’m away.
“Excuse me, sir. I’m afraid I left the scooter in your way.” The Navy man averted his eyes.
“Damned right, son.” Brownlee watched the SEAL fist both hands, leaving them at his sides. “Our guests usually park in the street, where it doesn’t interfere with our needs. You do understand that don’t you, son?” Cooper stepped as close to him as he could without touching. “I take offense being called your son. Sir. Besides, I’m not here to visit you. I came to see Libby.”
“Well isn’t that just what a father wants to hear?” Dr. Brownlee stared up at the towering giant and tried to grin. He was counting on the element of control being on Cooper’s side.
He wasn’t disappointed.
“I’m going to move my fucking bike.” Cooper finally said, breaking eye contact as he stepped around him. The SEAL walked the scooter across the Brownlee’s lawn and parked it at the edge a flowerbed, kickstand firmly on concrete, but not touching the street.
You Navy asshole. Somewhere deep inside Brownlee knew that his brother Will, if he were angry, would have done the same.
“You think I’m tough?” Brownlee started, “You’d better hope that thing doesn’t fall into my wife’s flowers. You’ll get a piece of her mind you won’t forget. She tends those flow
ers like her life depends on it.”
“Yeah?” Coop said as his gangly frame ambled up the pathway like a huge dancer, on his way toward the front door. He put his hands on his hips and forced a grin. “I guess I’d play with flowers all day long if I was married to the likes of you.”
“You fucking asshole. I think…”
“Austin!” The sound of Carla’s voice punctured the air. Libby stood just behind her mother on the porch landing. Both the women were looking at him, not the giant who wore that stupid victory grin.
Then Carla leveled her gaze at Cooper. “Both of you ought to be ashamed. Acting like a couple of grade school kids on the playground. Grow up.” She left the porch and Libby ran outside and into the arms of the SEAL. No mistaking the signs of a budding relationship between the two, Brownlee noted. It made him sick to his stomach.
Cooper was whispering in his daughter’s ear, and, as much as Brownlee wanted to hear the words, he also didn’t. It hurt that the sailor was being the one to console his daughter who had spent most of last night in tears over the loss of her cat. Tears Brownlee couldn’t stop for her.
Brownlee retreated to his car, started it up, punched the door clicker, and parked inside. He sat for a moment in the silence and the darkness of his garage. How had his world gone so completely off-kilter? When did it change? Then he did the unthinkable. He had that thought he counseled people all day about. But he couldn’t help it.
Why me?
He vowed it was time stop being a victim and to start taking control
Chapter 10
Libby noted the grim expressions on the faces of both Cooper and her father as they entered the house. Coop’s eyes softened as he gave her a slight nod, not to worry. She was so glad he’d called and that he had been available to come over. She blushed when she thought about their night of sex. The blush must have shown, because her father’s expression had gone dark, and it frightened her. He was angry. She knew he was the loose cannon in the room.
Her mother arrived from the kitchen with a glass of ice water and offered it to Dr. Brownlee, who winced, but took it anyway. Cooper had his arm around Libby, rubbing her shoulder gently. It calmed her. She felt the delicious ripple down her spine as her body responded to his touch.
God, I need him.
“I’ve asked Cooper to stay for dinner tonight, Austin,” Mrs. Brownlee said.
“Great. Just great,” her father answered, without looking at the SEAL. “I’m going upstairs to change. Don’t let me interfere with your little party. Be down in a couple of minutes.”
“What in the blazes is the matter with you?” Carla asked. “You don’t need to change, Austin.” Her forehead wrinkled.
“It’s me,” Cooper inserted. “Thanks for the invite Mrs. Brownlee, but I’m going.”
Libby grabbed his hand but he didn’t react.
“You just got here,” she said.
Before anyone else could speak, Mrs. Brownlee blurted, “Cooper, I want you to stay.”
Libby braced herself for a huge altercation. She thought Coop and her mom might have words. Her mother turned on her husband and added, “I’m not going to do this again, Austin. We will all talk and have dinner like civilized people.”
Libby wondered what that meant in real terms. She squeezed Coop’s hand again, and this time was rewarded with his tightened grip. Then he threaded their fingers together, and she felt the familiar dull ache for him in the pit of her stomach.
“I’m going to get my civilized clothes on now, and then I’ll be down.” Her dad stomped up the curved stairway and disappeared at the landing on top. Her mom excused herself and followed him up in a huff.
Cooper turned to face her. “I should just leave. Your dad hates my guts,” He whispered.
“No, he doesn’t. I don’t know what’s going on with him. He’s stressed.”
“Doing a pretty good job stressing out your mother, too. Really isn’t fair. Besides, you’re the one who lost your cat. You’d think he could be a little more—I don’t know.” He followed her to the kitchen. Sounds of arguing filled the air, coming from upstairs. They were having one of their legendary fights, although it had been years since Libby had heard the kind of vitriol that had erupted this week.
“Sorry you have to hear this, Coop.”
“The police have any leads on what happened?” he asked.
“They only came over because my dad is an official friend of the Department. I’m not convinced they think there is anything to it. Maybe there is no boogey man. It could have been an accident,” she said.
“Cats don’t swim, Libby.”
“Exactly. So maybe he fell in.”
“You ever see or hear of a cat falling into a pool? I don’t like it at all,” he said as he shook his head.
She couldn’t help it. The tears started to come. The image of the fluffy cat who had warmed her bed every night she was home from college, who played with her in the back yard as a kitten, saddened her. She would never see him again. How could someone want to destroy this gentle creature?
Cooper pulled her close, holding her tight to his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he said as he laced his fingers through her hair. “I wish I’d been here yesterday for you.”
“Cooper,” she said to his shirt pocket, “they are doing everything they can. Dad went down there this morning and talked to his detective friend. Don’t worry.”
“Can’t help it. I do that for a living. I’m trained to react to threats, to protect the innocent.”
True. But in the state the world was in, the loss of one little cat hardly seemed significant. She worked to buck up her courage.
“Come on, let’s go outside.” Libby said. She could still hear the heated discussion her parents were having upstairs. She wanted to get away from the discord.
Libby stepped backwards, pulling both his hands. She studied the tall man walking towards her with a lopsided grin. For a few precious seconds she got the impression he’d follow her anywhere. All too quickly his composure returned and he dropped his hands, but put an arm around her waist and drew her to him.
“I’m not very comfortable hanging out where I’m not wanted.”
“You’re wanted.”
He squeezed her close to him. “Your parents. I’m talking about your parents.”
“He’ll get over it. Besides, I thought being where you’re unwanted is what you did for a living?”
“That’s my job. This is social.”
“Thank God! Although it would be a pleasant fantasy if I needed protection, and you were assigned that detail,” she said as she leaned sideways into his chest. They kept walking.
“Hmmm. That would be interesting…”
She loved the smell of him, his muscles moving against her side, the movement of his long legs at her hip, the way his voice rumbled in his chest when he said anything at all. In his presence she felt safe. Her biggest fear was that she would lose him in the end. She tried not to hope for too much, but couldn’t help feeling she belonged right next to him. For now, that was going to have to suffice.
She knew this new relationship wasn’t old enough to contain the bad parts. There were always bad parts. Her father’s lack of acceptance of Cooper was only a tiny portion of that. But damn, the good parts were really good. Unbelievable.
“How would you protect me, if it was your job?”
He raised one eyebrow. “Why I think I’d have to search you for weapons first.” His voice was getting husky.
“How would you search me?”
“I’d take you somewhere, like over here.” He pointed to the storage building at the end of a crushed granite path. The old wooden structure was part potting shed, part greenhouse storage, and held a new riding lawnmower, and various gardening tools. He pulled her into the cool darkness. “I’d have to pat you down,” he said as he rubbed her behind, then pulled her against his groin. He moved his palms to her chest and squeezed, then traced a finger up her neck, under her
jaw and around to her hairline. Pulling her head towards him, he commanded a kiss from her.
Libby was lost in a swirl of scent and passion that left her dizzy. She drew both her arms up over his shoulders and crossed them behind his head. She pressed her breasts against him and felt the delicious erection tenting his pants as he rubbed against her belly.
“Wouldn’t you have to remove all my clothes to be sure?” she whispered.
“Absolutely. A close examination would be in order. Can’t be too careful.”
“No. It could be dangerous if you didn’t search me completely naked,” she whispered to him between kisses.
“Very.”
“But you’d be thorough. So I won’t have to worry?”
He smiled. “You won’t ever have to worry about me not being thorough.”
She leaned back to get a good look at his eyes. In her heart the only worry she had was that this wouldn’t last, that he would leave her. He watched her without a smile, letting her have his full attention, waiting for her to make the first move.
“I need to touch you, need your hands on me,” she said.
He looked around the shed for a place to take her. An old bench sat in the corner, covered by a tattered oilcloth tablecloth. It was tucked away from the shed’s opening. They walked over the hardened dirt floor and then he removed the old oilcloth and sat on the bench, his knees pointed out to the sides. Standing in front of him, she started to unbutton his cotton shirt, sliding her fingers up underneath his T-shirt, feeling the smooth ripples of his chest. Her fingers hungrily touched him, felt the indentation down the middle of his warm torso and then traveled below to his beltline.
Coop’s hands found her panties beneath her skirt and looped a forefinger around the satin waistband, slipping them down her thighs. She stepped out of them and then climbed up into his lap. The wooden bench was hard against her knees, so she balanced on his thighs to take the pressure off. His fingers found and massaged her opening. Lingering there, while making circles around her nub. His touch sent waves of pleasure up her spine as he slowly stroked her, and then penetrated her deeply with two fingers.
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