The American Temp and the British Inspector Page 7

  “What do you miss?” Max pushed.

  “I miss my mom.” Cassie’d never got to say thanks for keeping her and her sisters out of harm’s way. “I should go see her.”

  “I could come with you, if you’d like.”

  He meant well, but the offer bothered her. Not just bothered her, threatened her. She didn’t want him getting too close, knowing too much about her life. She didn’t want his support. Besides, bringing a man home with her would indicate a seriousness in their relationship that didn’t exist. A seriousness that could never exist.

  He was a wounded man in a violent career, two major red flags for a girl like Cassie.

  “Thanks,” she said. “But I have to do this alone.”

  Chapter Six

  Two hours later, Max found himself headed to the fire escape for a smoke. He and Cassie had said their good-nights an hour ago, acknowledging that they had an early morning and long day ahead of them. Next up: a visit to the fraternity.

  He passed Barnes’s room. A shaft of light streamed through the two-inch crack and classical music drifted into the hallway. Max had half a mind to scold him about disturbing his neighbors. He pushed open the door. Barnes was asleep in the corner chair, a book open in his lap, his specs lying on top. Max closed the door.

  He passed the TV room where Bobby slept soundly on the couch. Art reclined in the lounger watching a repeat of Monty Python. The man had changed into a powder-blue track suit with a double white stripe running down the sides.

  “Hey, guv,” Art whispered, not wanting to wake Bobby. “Can’t sleep?”

  “Needed a bedtime smoke.”

  Art nodded. “Did you see the media clip from this afternoon?”

  “I saw it.” He wasn’t happy about it. They didn’t need the spotlight—it would only complicate the investigation.

  “Your girl looked pretty on the telly. I meant to tell her she should go out for advertisements.”

  “I hadn’t noticed.”

  Liar.

  “Well, you go on and enjoy your smoke. God, I wish I could sleep. It’s the bloody jet lag.”

  “Doesn’t seem to bother Bobby.” Max smiled.

  “Neither did the three pints he had at the pub. Maybe I should start drinking.”

  Max narrowed his eyes.

  “Just kidding,” Art said. “I’m too old.”

  “Night, then.”

  “Good night, guv.”

  Max continued toward the fire escape. He’d have to pass Cassie’s room, which was down the hallway by the fire escape door. She was probably fast asleep. Good. He didn’t want to struggle with small talk, as he had earlier.

  What is the matter with you?

  For some reason, sitting in the kitchen and watching her eat pizza had felt incredibly odd, almost intimate. He’d never eaten with her like that before, the two of them sitting at a kitchen table, inches apart. Sure, she’d be working at his flat during lunchtime, but she’d always brought a sandwich to eat at her desk. She’d never asked for a break.

  Suddenly he felt like an absolute wanker.

  He wanted to apologize, but how? Admit he’d been a complete idiot during their four-month relationship? No, he wouldn’t call it a relationship, more like a business partnership. He’d paid her money and she’d typed out his story. But she’d also done more than that: she ran errands, made meals on occasion, and even picked up the flat. She didn’t have to do that.

  And he hadn’t stopped her. No, somewhere, deep down, he appreciated the human gestures, welcomed them. He’d done such a good job of isolating himself that he’d forgotten what it felt like to have someone care about him.

  Think again, Templeton. She’s being paid for her trouble, remember?

  Still, he felt an apology was in order. He approached her room and noticed light reflecting from under the door.

  “What, doesn’t anyone sleep anymore?” He knocked softly. “Cassie, may I come in?”

  He waited. Nothing.

  “Cassie?” He tried again.

  The hair bristled on the back of his neck. She was a high-energy sort, the kind who would jump from her chair if she heard something. Maybe from years of being ready to defend herself from an abuser?

  He tried the knob. The door was open. If she’d fallen asleep while reading, Max could be a sport and turn the light off.

  “Cassie,” he whispered, pushing open the door. He took a step inside and froze. The perfectly made bed was empty.

  “What the hell?” he said. Did she go back downstairs for some warm milk? He glanced out the fire escape window to see if the light from the kitchen reflected out back. It didn’t.

  He stepped into her room looking for clues as to her whereabouts. A picture frame had been turned down on her nightstand. He set it back up and studied the photograph: a mother and three little girls.

  Cassie had said she wanted to see her mum, but he didn’t think she’d meant tonight. Forget it, mate. She’d made her feelings clear on that one: she didn’t want Max anywhere near her family.

  He couldn’t blame her. What a shock for her mum, not to see her daughter for over a year, then receiving a surprise visit complete with Max, a mess of a bloke with a limp and odd mental illness. Wouldn’t fill Mum with confidence that her daughter had healed and was making better choices about men.

  He phoned her mobile from the house line. Voice mail picked up.

  “Bloody hell.” He scanned her room, analyzing its contents: a blue and white blanket that looked too worn not to be hers, and a teddy bear on the bed. He picked it up. Guilt grabbed hold of his conscience. He shouldn’t be here touching her private things.

  Putting it back to the bed, he glanced across the room at a journal lying open on top of the telly.

  …she looked pretty on the telly…should go out for advertisements…meant to tell her…

  Panic flooded his chest. Blast, another attack. He leaned against the wall and willed himself not to fall apart in the girl’s room. He wouldn’t let her find him like this, sweating, trembling, collapsed in a heap. He backed out of the room and closed the door, his hand gripping the glass handle with deadly force as he tried to ground himself.

  Her earlier words echoed in his brain: My ex-husband broke my back, put me in the hospital for two months and tracked me down at my sister’s when I got out.

  What if that bastard saw her on the telly tonight? Recognized her, decided a reunion was in order while she was in town?

  Max went downstairs in search of Eddie. The computer genius’s desk was empty. Max pounded his fist against the doorjamb.

  Then he heard snoring from the other room. He went to the back den and found Eddie sound asleep on the leather couch.

  “Eddie, wake up,” Max ordered.

  “I’m not late!” Eddie bolted straight up, his eyes wide.

  “Easy, mate, I need your help.”

  Eddie stared into Max’s eyes. Was the man even fully awake?

  “Help? Help?” Eddie mimicked.

  “I need you to help me find Cassie.”

  “Cassie, right,” He rubbed his eyes. “Cute, blond, nice ass.”

  Max refrained from boxing his ears. “If she needed a cab, which one would she ring?”

  “Yellow. Mellow yellow.”

  “Come on, wake up.” He shook the kid’s shoulder.

  “I’m awake! I’m awake! Yellow Cab. Everyone calls Yellow Cab.”

  Max stood. “Phone books, do we have phone books?”

  “I dunno.” He rubbed his eyes. “I get all my numbers online.”

  “Get it then, Yellow Cab.”

  “Okay, okay.” He got up and headed to his desk. “Never pegged you for a late-night drinker.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re meeting Cassie at a bar, right? Don’t waste your money on a cab. Take my car.”

  “Sit,” Max ordered. “Now find me that number for Yellow Cab.”

  Eddie settled behind his desk. “It’s gonna take me a minute.�
��

  Max glared.

  “Hey, Tabitha was asleep. She needs a minute to get her bearings.”

  “Tabitha?”

  Eddie motioned toward his laptop. “Tabitha, meet my boss, Max Templeton.” Eddie smiled.

  And they thought Max was crazy.

  “The number,” Max ordered.

  Eddie punched a few keys, hit Return and a Web site came up. “Damn.”

  “What?”

  “Web site’s down. Hang on.” His fingers flew over the keyboard, and he leaned back in his chair. “Come on, sweetheart, the boss needs to find a woman.”

  Panic still burned in Max’s gut. Cassie could be in trouble.

  Or Max was overreacting and had completely gone round the bend.

  “Here,” Eddie leaned forward. “You’ve got four numbers, take your pick.”

  Max grabbed Eddie’s desk phone and punched in a number. He got a recording. “Bloody hell.”

  “When you find her, take my car,” Eddie offered again.

  “What, and drive on the wrong side of the road? No thanks.” He’d never mastered the skill of driving in the States, and surely didn’t want to navigate Chicago motorways.

  Max tried another number.

  “Yellow Cab.”

  “Yes, my wife just left and I need to know where her cab was going. Did you have a pickup at 102 Cedar within the last hour?”

  “I can’t tell you that. Do you want a cab or not?”

  “It’s an emergency.”

  “It’s against company policy.”

  “But—”

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  CLICK.

  “Your wife?” Eddie eyed Max.

  Okay, he couldn’t do this alone. “Cassie’s gone and I’ve got to find her, immediately.”

  “O-kay.” Eddie raised a brow.

  “It’s not like that. I’m worried about her,” Max said. He didn’t know where the words came from, and couldn’t believe he’d uttered them to a complete stranger.

  He should have ordered the kid to find her, threatened his job if he didn’t.

  “What’s her last name?” Eddie said, readjusting his fingers to the keyboard.

  “Clarke, but it may not be her real name.”

  Eddie glanced up at him.

  “She’s got a rather complicated past.”

  “Don’t we all,” Eddie muttered. “Okay, the cab company, let’s assume it was Yellow Cab. Wait, what about her cell phone?”

  “She isn’t answering.” Max paced to the front window.

  He wasn’t sure why, but he needed to get to her. Or was this another anxiety attack from the post-trauma affliction?

  “Got it!” Eddie said. “Found the pickup—ten thirty, destination…Des Plaines.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Northwest suburb.”

  “Order me a cab. I need to change.”

  Max went upstairs and dressed in crisp trousers and a white shirt, in case he did meet the family. He glanced in the bedroom mirror to determine if he looked presentable.

  “Hopeless,” he muttered.

  He went downstairs and grabbed his leather jacket from a chair. Eddie came up beside him.

  “The cab’s outside, yeah?” Max said.

  “Nope. I’m driving.” Eddie put up his hand in defense. “No arguments, boss. That’s what friends do for each other. My truck’s in the alley.”

  Eddie shoved a baseball cap onto his unruly head of black hair and made for the back of the house. Max followed.

  Friends? What a strange concept. Max had lost anything resembling friendship after the bombing, mostly by choice. He didn’t want them feeling obliged to help him, check on him…feel sorry for him.

  They got into Late Eddie’s car, a compact SUV, and pulled out of the alley. Max tapped a fisted hand against his knee. He was overreacting, that’s all. Fine, if that be the case, he’d get to Cassie’s mum’s house, watch from outside, maybe offer her a ride home and all would be well.

  “Music, okay?” Eddie said.

  “Sure.”

  The kid hit a button and the rubbish they called country music blared through the car. Although it was popular in England, Max had never warmed to it.

  “Sorry,” Eddie said, turning it down.

  “You know where you’re going?” Max asked.

  “Ran directions off the Net.”

  They drove in relative silence except for the sound of the music. Friends were too much work, Max thought, gritting his teeth. He couldn’t bring himself to ask Eddie to switch to another station. The guy was doing him a grand favor by taking him on this midnight adventure.

  “I always wanted to be a cowboy,” Eddie said, his head bobbing with the music.

  Max glanced at him. Was this supposed to be true confessions, then?

  “What happened?” Max said, to be polite.

  “Allergic to hay.”

  Max nodded, then glanced out the passenger window. Lyrics from the radio filled the car…lyrics about love, hope and dreams.

  Now he knew why he’d never warmed to country music.

  “What did you want to be?” Eddie asked.

  Max wanted to tell him it was none of his business, to focus on the road and get him to Cassie before something dreadful happened. You’re overreacting, mate.

  “I always wanted to be a detective,” Max said.

  “Lucky,” Eddie muttered.

  Is that what you’d call Max’s life? Lucky? He wouldn’t go there with this kid, a young man who exuded an innocence that Max envied.

  Innocence.

  Innocent children, mothers being strewn about the train station like paper dolls.

  Shove it back, mate.

  He closed his eyes…

  …and saw Cassie’s sweet, round face smiling at him.

  She, too, wore an innocence, even after everything she’d been through. How did she do it? How did she keep a positive outlook on life after the abuse she’d survived?

  She puzzled him, that one. She seemed to be fragile beauty and independent strength all in one. But then, he probably puzzled her, too.

  Or maybe not, maybe she had him sussed out, knew he hid from his life by snapping and growling and acting like a supreme ass.

  It was best this way. It kept him a safe distance from people.

  “I grew up a few towns over from Des Plaines.” Eddie glanced at Max, then back to the road. “How about you?”

  “I’m not much for small talk, mate,” Max said.

  Eddie shrugged. Was that chagrin creasing the boy’s brow?

  “Coventry.” Max looked at him. “England.”

  “I figured as much.” He chuckled. “What brought you over here?”

  A sardonic smile creased Max’s lips. “A woman.”

  “Nice,” Eddie said in appreciation.

  “It didn’t work out. Take my advice, never let a woman dictate your life.”

  “First I gotta get a woman.”

  Max studied his driver. The boy seemed nice enough, youthful in some ways, above-average looks, although that hairstyle could scare anyone away. He had a full head of curls that made him look wild and immature.

  “So, why are we tailing Cassie?” Eddie asked.

  Max’s smile faded and he stared straight ahead. “Let’s just get there.”

  “Sure, okay, boss.”

  The reference to Cassie brought him back down, sinking him in a mass of panic.

  She’ll be okay. Yet the panic in his chest proved otherwise.

  The trouble was he was going mad.

  Thirty minutes later they pulled onto a residential street lined with small brick houses. Eddie parked across the street from the house where the cab supposedly dropped off Cassie. The house was completely dark.

  Max reread the address. They were at the right house. “You’re sure this is where the cab brought her?”

  “I’m sure,” Eddie said, eyeing the small home.

  “She wouldn’t have left al
ready.”

  “Whose house is it, anyway?” Eddie asked.

  “Her mother’s. Hasn’t seen her in over a year.”

  “Intense.”

  Max got out of the car and eyed the neighboring homes.

  “Hey, boss, over there in the park.”

  Max glanced across the street where he noticed a man and a woman. The man gripped the woman by the wrist.

  “Let go!” the woman demanded.

  Max’s blood ran cold.

  “Cassie,” he whispered.

  Chapter Seven

  “I missed you so much, honey,” Karl crooned. “I figured you’d come home.”

  The jerk had seen Cassie in the Blackwell news report and he’d been waiting for her at Mom’s house, Mom’s old house. She no longer lived there. Sadness crept into Cassie’s chest.

  “I never should have let you go,” he said. “I’ve missed you. I never meant to hurt you.”

  Like he was hurting her now? Squeezing her wrist like he wanted juice from an orange?

  “I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered and pulled her against him.

  “Don’t touch me!” she cried, kicking him in the shin to break the hold.

  In slow motion she saw it coming, his unwieldy, large hand aiming for her cheek.

  Instead of cowering, as she would have in the past, she grabbed his wrist, twisted and jerked him off balance. She kicked in the back of his knee, he fell to the ground and she kicked him in the ribs.

  “You’re friggin’ nuts,” he cried, rolling away from her.

  She kept after him, kicking him in the chest, adrenaline blinding her. Then someone grabbed her by the waist and pulled her away from Karl.

  “Cassie?” It was Max’s voice.

  Shame curdled in her belly. Max placed a hand to her cheek and looked into her eyes.

  “It’s okay.” Max brushed his thumb across her cheek, his concerned expression touching her somewhere, deep down where the violence hadn’t reached. “Take her to the car,” he ordered his companion. She glanced over her shoulder into the compassionate eyes of Eddie.

  Great. More people knew her shame: she’d fallen for a bastard who had broken her…and she’d let him.

  Max nodded and Eddie led her to an SUV. She climbed into the back seat. “He hurt me,” she choked.