Manny ran a frustrated hand through his thinning hair. “I heard the screams and I ran upstairs. Nearly tripped and broke my fool neck. By the time I got there, the door was wide open. She was stuffed in that closet. I tried to go to her but she freaked out worse. That’s when I called you, man. I saw your truck down the street and figured you were still at the station.”
“You didn’t see anyone running off?” This came from Trace, who had been relatively silent up until now.
“Not a soul,” Manny answered.
Chas peered around the room, taking in every nook and cranny. One chair was lying sideways on the floor and there was a lamp lying not far from it. The bed was a mess, the covers hanging off to one side. Chas felt sick again, turning in the other direction. He glanced at the door. It was all in one piece, hanging open.
“I could pick that lock with my eyes shut, using a popsicle stick,” Trace pointed out, frowning.
Chas had been thinking the same thing.
“We’re all done with her for now. Unless she’ll let us take her in, there’s nothing more we can do.”
Chas followed a paramedic’s gaze to where Roxy sat on a gurney, a stubborn look on her face. She was pushing the hands of the other paramedic away from her fervently.
“You need to let them do their jobs,” Chas said, stepping toward her. “You may have broken bones.” He leaned down to her eye level. “They need to run tests, Roxy. You’re hurt.”
“I’m not going to the hospital.” Her voice was still scratchy and barely came out in a whisper. “I’m okay.”
“They need to check you out,” he reiterated. “I know you don’t want to go, but it’s necessary.” He knew what tests they were going to put her through. A rape kit was not pleasant, but it had to be done.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Trina asked, indicating he come with her outside.
Reluctantly, he stood up and followed her.
“She wasn’t raped, Chas. At least that’s what she says.”
He felt instant relief. “Are you sure?”
“Obviously I’m only going on what she told me. She says some guy tried to smother her with a pillow but she fought and got away and screamed bloody murder. He took off at that point.” Trina made a note in her note pad. “She’s confused and in a state of shock, but I don’t think she was actually raped. I don’t think that was the motive here.”
He let out a sigh, and looked through the door at Roxy again. She was still giving the paramedics a hard time. “She didn’t know the attacker?”
“Hard to say. She’s in shock,” she repeated, folding her notebook into her pocket. “All she gave me was that she woke up suddenly and he was there. Obviously a struggle ensued. She managed to get away long enough to scream. He got smart and took off. If he hadn’t, we might be looking at a different outcome here.”
Chas didn’t even want to think about that outcome. “Okay, thanks for your help.”
“She should go in,” Trace said when Chas came back into the room. Manny had since left, and the paramedics were packing up their things.
“Trina says she told her she wasn’t raped. She says the guy tried to smother her and she got away.”
Trace looked skeptical. “Are you sure about that?”
“No, I’m not sure about that. But that’s what Roxy told her. Why would she lie?”
“Because she’s in a state of shock and traumatized.”
Trace had a point. Chas viewed Roxy critically again.
“A rape kit needs to be done as soon as possible, Chas. You know the drill.”
“I know the freakin’ drill,” Chas answered irritably. “Just give me a minute with her. I’m not putting her through something like that if it isn’t necessary.”
Trace didn’t look like he wanted to comply, but he did and walked out of the room. Now alone with Roxy, Chas walked over and sat down on a chair across from where she still sat on the gurney. She was looking down at the rug, her hands rubbing at her temples firmly.
“Can you tell me what happened tonight?”
She slowly shook her head, avoiding his gaze. “I already told that woman.”
“I know you did. I need to hear it too, Roxy. Word for word.”
“Why? She took notes. I saw her.” She looked up and he was glad to see that the cut over her eye was smaller than it had originally looked. It was now covered with a clear bandage.
Gentling his tone, he tried his best not to look so official to her. “Because I may pick up something in the story that Trina missed.”
“He didn’t rape me, Chas. That’s not why he came here.”
“So Trina says. Start at the beginning.”
“I was sleeping. I woke up and went into the bathroom to turn on the light. He came at me from behind.” She rubbed at her face again. “I didn’t see him. He just grabbed me and dragged me backward.”
“And then what?”
She swallowed harshly. “And then he threw me down on the bed. I fought him but he was too strong.” She quickly swiped at a stray tear that managed to fall from her eyes. “God, he was huge. Like a monster or something.”
Chas watched as her face seemed to lose its color abruptly. She leaned over, her head between her knees, and took several deep breaths.
“Do you want me to grab the paramedics again? I really think you should go to the hospital.” He reached forward, but she sat up suddenly and backed away before he could touch her.
“I don’t want to go to the hospital.”
He wanted to argue but he didn’t. “What happened next?”
“He shoved me onto the bed.”
“You didn’t see his face at all? Nothing familiar about him stood out?”
“No, nothing. He had me face down the whole time. He grabbed a pillow and tried to smother me with it.” Her voice started to shake. “I fought him off enough so I could scream and he took off.”
“And you climbed into the closet.”
She looked up at him, her blue eyes almost hostile. “Yes, I guess so. That’s where you found me, isn’t it? I wanted to hide in case he came back.”
He stared at her a moment. “Okay,” he finally said. “If you think of anything else, I need to know about it. In the meantime, are you able to get around?”
“I can move,” she said, wrapping her arms around her middle. “I’m just a little bruised.”
“Why don’t you get your stuff together? You’re coming home with us tonight.”
“Us?”
“Me and my brother. You shouldn’t be alone.” He didn’t bother waiting for her to respond. Instead he got up and walked outside.
“You think that’s a good idea, man?” Trace asked, eyeing his brother critically.
“I’m not leaving her alone. This wasn’t a random attack. My instincts are telling me there’s more here than meets the eye.”
“So what’s your theory?”
“I don’t have one. That’s the problem. I just know I don’t want her with Luci under the circumstances and there’s really no place else for her to go but with us.”
“I admit this doesn’t appear random.” Trace was quiet a moment. “I’ll follow you home I guess. Give me a minute to let Willow know I won’t be there tonight.”
Chas nodded and turned back to Roxy. She had since pulled on a pair of sweat pants and changed into a different shirt. Her duffel bag was sitting at her feet.
He picked it up and slung it over his shoulder. “Come on. The crime scene techs need to get in here sooner rather than later.”
“Are you going to get into trouble?” she asked as they walked out of the room. “I heard you tell Luci it wasn’t a good idea for me to stay at your place.”
“Things are different now. You’ll be safe there.” He walked toward the stairs and she followed.
“Do you think the man that attacked me tonight has something to do with Aunt Myra’s murder?”
“Do you?” The thought ate at him as he unlocked the passenger
door to his truck and helped her climb into the cab.
“I wasn’t here when she was murdered. Why would someone want to hurt me?”
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “But maybe the person who attacked you tonight is the reason your brother is hiding.”
ELEVEN
Chas stared at the television screen, sleep eluding him. When he glanced at his wristwatch, he saw that it was four-thirty.
Two hours ago, he had tucked Roxy Tavish into his bed—for real this time—and retired to the living room couch, still fully clothed. He hadn’t been comfortable stripping down to the boxers he normally wore to bed, with Roxy in the house.
Trace had disappeared into his own room and obviously gone to sleep. Unfortunately, Chas’s mind was working overtime. He tended to do that when he was working on a case. Most of the time he laid awake at night, staring up at the ceiling, working each detail over inside of his head. When cases weren’t open and shut, mulling the facts over again and again was all the police could do. There was usually something obvious missing that was right under their noses. It just took time to figure out what it was. To his chagrin, nothing was coming to him tonight. He was exhausted, yet too keyed up to sleep.
Slapping at the pillow under his head, he groaned. The couch was uncomfortable to sleep on. He and Trace had bought it strictly for the upright comfort of watching sports. It was hell on the back when you tried lying down on it. He made a mental note to consider that fact the next time they went furniture shopping.
Turning over, he reached for the remote and shut off the television. He needed sleep. He hadn’t had a full eight hours in a night for too long. It was beginning to wear on him.
He shut his eyes and concentrated on a dreamless sleep. Not five minutes later, he was awakened by a noise. It was faint and coming from the hallway.
Immediately, he was up and on his feet. He had his gun in his hand before he even thought about it. He quietly made his way down the hall. When he got to Trace’s bedroom, he noticed that the door was tightly shut, just like it always was when his brother slept there.
His eyes squinted in the darkness of the hallway. The door to his own bedroom was cracked open and light filtered from the slit in the door. They’d left the bedside lamp on for her because she’d been too rattled to sleep in the dark.
He knew immediately that the noise was coming from inside the room. It was a soft mewling sound. It took him only a second to realize what it likely was—Roxy was awake…and she was crying.
He reached for the door and slowly pushed it open. His first instinct was to make sure there was nobody else in the room, even though he was fairly sure there wasn’t. Once he deemed the room clear, he set the safety and shoved his gun into the back of his jeans. He watched her for a moment. She was underneath the covers, her face turned in the opposite direction. She was shaking like a leaf. Instantly he felt bad for her. She was obviously terrified, not that he could blame her. She’d had one hell of a night.
“Roxy?” he finally said, his voice soft. He didn’t really want to scare her more than she already was.
She turned abruptly, her eyes locking with his. He immediately saw the fear there—the despair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” She swiped at the tears on her face quickly and sniffled.
“You didn’t. I was already awake.” They stared at each other in silence. Finally he spoke. “What can I do?”
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say because she started sniffling again. She covered her face with her hands and turned into the pillow behind her head. “I just want to go back home. I shouldn’t have come here.”
Sighing, he walked over and crouched down next to the bed. “I know last night was bad. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
She shook her head almost frantically. “You don’t understand. It’s all happening again.”
Confused, he waited for her to say more.
“There’s something I didn’t tell you about last night.” She spoke and the words came out in a hiccup.
“Okay.” Frustration ate at him but he forced himself to remain impassive. “So tell me now.”
“He said my mother’s name.”
He took the words in and digested them.
“Only he didn’t use her real name—the name everyone else called her. He used a different name. Rose.” She looked him in the eye. “That was her middle name and the only person that used to call her that was my father.”
The air in the room seemed to thicken. Chas frowned, trying to make sense of what she was saying. “Are you sure you heard him right?”
She hesitated. “At first I thought I was dreaming. But now I don’t think so. I heard the words. I felt his breath on my ear.” She shivered. “He said, Rose, I knew you’d come back.” The words seemed to die on her lips and she started to shake again.
“Maybe you were dreaming. The whole thing was pretty traumatic.”
She wiped at her cheeks, shaking her head. “I felt him there. That’s why I woke up. I had left the light in the bathroom on. I hate the dark. He turned it off. I heard him say the words.”
Seeing that she was on the road to hysteria, he sighed and set a hand on her exposed arm, trying to calm her down. “Okay. Just calm down. He’s gone now.”
“My father is dead, Chas.” Her eyes looked haunted.
He couldn’t argue with that. He’d seen what was left of Hank Tavish after he’d taken a gun to his own head. He’d been one of the first cops on the scene six years ago. “I think you’re upset and confused right now. You’ve had a rough night. You need some sleep.” He kept his voice gentle as he stood up straight.
“I can’t sleep. I keep hearing his voice.” She avoided his gaze, obviously not used to admitting her weaknesses to anyone. It was clear that she was accustomed to dealing with her problems on her own. When a stray tear slid from one of her eyes, she reached up and swatted at it quickly.
Without giving it much thought, he let out a sigh and walked around to the other side of the room. He pulled his gun out of the back of his jeans and set it on the night table. Then he climbed onto the free side of the bed and made himself comfortable against the headboard.
“What are you doing?” she asked cautiously.
He glanced down at her. “I’m going to sit here until you fall asleep. The sooner you’re out, the sooner I’ll leave you alone.”
She narrowed her eyes, sniffling again. He expected her armor to slide swiftly into place. He expected her to argue with him out of pride. She surprised him by nodding her head. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He immediately decided that he liked the feisty version of Roxy Tavish better than this version. This version was tugging at the strings of his heart with a vengeance. Hell, she was tugging at more than the strings of his heart. Trace’s warning played itself over inside of his head again and he grimaced. This could not get personal. She was part of his job, that was it.
“Chas?” Her voice came out in almost a whisper.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry I’ve been so much trouble. If you had called me a week ago, I would have had a job and money and a car.”
He grinned halfway at that. “You’re having a tough week, that’s for sure. It can only get better.”
“I hope so.” She snuggled deeper into the blankets, her eyes slowly drifting closed. A moment later, she was fast asleep.
TWELVE
When Roxy opened her eyes, it took her a minute to orient herself with her surroundings. She was in an unfamiliar bedroom. Sun was brightly shining through the window directly to her left. When she lifted her head, she realized one thing right away. It hadn’t been resting on a pillow—and neither was the rest of her.
Frantic for a moment, she froze. Chas was lying next to her, sound asleep. She was wrapped around him like a blanket. Their legs were still tangled together and his arm was resting haphazardly over her stomach. The position was oddly intimate and immediately her sk
in warmed—well her skin and another rather personal area.
She wasn’t sure what to do. She knew he’d offered to stay with her until she’d fallen asleep the night before. Apparently he’d fallen asleep too. Had she wrapped herself around him in the middle of the night?
Embarrassment crawled through her. She never cuddled with a man—not that she’d had all that much experience with men. Maybe three boyfriends in the last six years—and boyfriend was a strong word. The relationships had been short and sweet. They definitely hadn’t involved cuddling at any time.
This man was not even a relationship. He was a cop working on her aunt’s murder case. What had she done?
She turned slightly and he stirred. Immediately she froze again and did the only thing she could think of to do—she pretended she was still sleeping.
She heard his breathing change, felt his arm move, his hand flattening over her abdomen. And then he seemed to freeze too. She waited to see what he would do next. She felt his hand lift carefully from across her middle. He had a little more difficulty untangling their legs without brushing against her rather intimately. The feeling of his midsection brushing against hers sent a jolt of electricity through her, popping her eyes open involuntarily. There was no disguising the bulge in his jeans. Thank God he had jeans on.
Their gazes locked, both looking rather panicked. She heard him swear and he ran his hands over his face wearily as he untangled himself from her and backed away quickly. He sat up, cursing again as he looked at the bedside clock. It was after eight in the morning.
Unsure what she should do, she just continued to lie there awkwardly. Better to let him get up first. After all, they were in his house.
He glanced back at her after a moment. “Do you want to shower first?”
So he was going to play the avoidance game. Two could play that one. “Sure. Unless your brother wants to.”
He grimaced. “He’s gone by six. He’s always at work before everyone else.”
“Oh.” She wondered why he looked so upset at that. Then she figured it out. Likely Trace had already discovered that his brother hadn’t slept on the couch. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
Skeletons in the Mist (The McCall Twins) Page 10