The American Temp and the British Inspector Page 8
“It’s okay now.” Eddie squeezed her shoulder and closed the door.
She clasped her hands together, her fingers shaking as if she’d been exposed to the cold for hours, days even. A tear slipped down her cheek and she felt her lower lip quiver. That crazed animal that attacked Karl wasn’t her. She was a nurturer, a sweet girl.
Well, she had been a sweet girl for a brief time, when her first months with Karl had been blissful and perfect. Now it was back to being guarded and cynical, the way she was growing up.
There’d been another brief time, during the past year, when she’d caught glimpses of a sweeter, happier self, glimpses of a girl with hope in her heart.
Tonight that girl was completely lost and Max had showed up in time to witness her rage. She didn’t want him to see her that way, out of control and violent.
Why had he come, anyway?
He opened the door and got into the back seat beside her. “He won’t be bothering you anymore.”
“I didn’t need your help,” she said.
“Obviously. All the same, are you hurt?”
He reached over and examined her wrist, where there would surely be bruises tomorrow. Such a tender, caring touch in contrast to Karl’s. But she didn’t welcome Max’s touch or attention. She didn’t want to depend on any man. For anything.
She snapped her wrist back. “Don’t.”
The look on his face tore at her heart.
“Let’s get back, Eddie,” Max ordered.
“You got it, boss.”
They pulled away from the curb and Max closed himself off to her, staring out his window. She hadn’t meant to snap at him, but her emotions were splattered across her chest thanks to the encounter with Karl. Truth was, she’d never thought she’d see him again.
After the “accident” that had put her in the hospital, she’d pressed charges, filed papers and kept the nurse-call button close at hand while recovering. She thought Karl had gotten the message, but months later he’d showed up at her sister’s house, begging for forgiveness and claiming to have enrolled in an anger management program.
When her father suggested she give Karl another chance, she truly saw what had happened. She’d learned how to love from her mother, how to love an abuser, and if she went back to Karl, she’d end up like her mother: fearful, lost and bruised in more places than she’d ever admit.
Cassie always wondered why Mom stayed with the old man, but deep down she had her suspicions. Mom didn’t have a college degree or training of any kind. She was a good housewife and a loving mother. She needed her husband’s paycheck to provide for her girls.
She’d sacrificed her life for them.
And Cassie wanted to thank her, yet she hadn’t a clue where Mom had gone.
Had she divorced Dad? Where were Cassie’s sisters? Did Lindsy make it into University of Illinois as planned? Did Bethany and Mark move to Florida for his job?
Cassie didn’t know. She didn’t know because she’d thought keeping in touch with them would put them in danger from her ex-husband.
Sure, he’d been remorseful when he’d tried convincing her of his love over a year ago. He’d practically broken down, swearing never to hurt her again.
She’d heard those words before. God, she’d been so stupid.
It always started the same way. A suggestion, turned into an order, followed by punishment if the order was not obeyed. She should have recognized trouble when he’d wanted the names and addresses of her girlfriends, then when he started showing up at the girls’ night out with his buddies. At first she’d thought it cute. But as time passed, it started to bother her.
Just like it bothered her when he talked about having children. At first she’d said her female “issues” were too volatile to consider pregnancy. Fibroids were painful and could be complicated. But as the years passed, she knew it was something else that kept her on birth control pills, something that motivated her to hide them for fear that if Karl found her taking birth control he’d flip out.
Listen to yourself, girl. Why did you stay with him so long?
Because it’s what she knew. Because she thought that was love.
Thank God she knew better now. She knew what love wasn’t. Yet she wouldn’t recognize true love if it was gift-wrapped and dropped in her lap.
“Great news about the note, hey, boss?”
Eddie’s voice splintered her thoughts.
“What news?” she said.
“The specks on the note weren’t blood,” Max said, not looking at her.
She owed him an apology, an explanation for pushing him away. No she didn’t. She’d told him that she needed to see her mother alone.
“Why did you come?” she pushed. She resented the fact that she’d been relieved to see him.
Max clenched his jaw and stared out the window.
“How did you find me?” she said.
“I found you,” Eddie offered, smiling into the rearview mirror. “The boss woke me from a sound sleep and said he was worried about you, so we called the Yellow Cab company, but they wouldn’t give up the information, so I did my magic and broke into their system and—”
“Why?” she interrupted his ramble and studied Max. “Why were you worried about me?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“You didn’t think I could take care of myself, did you?”
They pulled into the alley behind the house and Eddie parked. Max got out and slammed the door.
She jumped out after him. “Wait a second.”
He was halfway up the back stairs when she caught up to him. “We’re not done,” she said.
“I think we are. You’ve made your feelings clear, Miss Clarke.”
Eddie stood at the bottom of the steps looking from Cassie to Max.
“Inside,” Max ordered Eddie, not taking his eyes off Cassie.
“Sure thing, boss.” Eddie glanced at Cassie. “Glad you’re okay. Good night.” He disappeared into the house. Max stood opposite her, leaning into his cane.
“How’s your hip?” she said.
He shook his head and started up the steps.
“Max, wait.”
He didn’t turn, didn’t look at her. Shame gripped her vocal cords. She had to do this.
“I’m kind of messed up right now,” she said. “I didn’t expect to see him.”
“And now you have. You’ve conquered your demons all by yourself. Congratulations.”
“Max,” she croaked.
He turned slowly and looked at her. Tears welled up in her eyes, tears of frustration and loss. She wanted to tell him she’d lost her family, possibly for good, and the pain was unbearable.
No words came out.
She started up the stairs and he touched her shoulder. “What is it?” he said.
She leaned into his chest, her fingers clutching his cotton shirt like a child squeezing a stuffed animal. His deep, earthy scent filled her head, welcoming her, making her feel safe and grounded.
Weak, you’re a weak and foolish broad. Karl’s voice rang in her head.
She broke the embrace. “I told you I’m a mess.” Her chuckle came out more like a cough. She rushed to the back door.
“Cassie?”
She hesitated, studying the chipped window frame trimming the glass.
“Look at me,” Max said.
She was afraid to, afraid of what she’d see in his eyes.
“Please?” he said.
She turned, biting her lower lip. But she didn’t read disappointment or disgust on his face. She read compassion, and that scared her even more.
“Can I help?” he said.
She shook her head no, swallowed back a ball of emotion and went into the house. She’d spent the last year and a half learning to depend on no one but herself. Yet she’d welcomed his touch of support, falling into his arms and leaning against his strong, hard chest.
He was the first person she’d felt slightly inclined to lean on.
She
couldn’t allow that. She sensed Max was a man she could grow dependent on.
“No,” she whispered. She’d made herself a promise never to fall into that trap again. Besides, he had enough baggage of his own. He didn’t need hers.
She raced up the stairs to her bedroom, needing to get away from him, to forget what happened and find peace. How was she going to do that when his caring, green eyes and soft, deep voice would surely haunt her dreams?
THE NEXT MORNING, Max walked into the kitchen and aimed for the coffee. He needed the caffeine to make up for a total of four hours of sleep. He poured some into a large Chicago Bears mug and settled himself at the kitchen table. Someone had had the presence of mind to bring in the morning paper. He flipped a few pages and his eyes caught on a headline: Private Task Force Hunts Serial Killer.
“Bloody Nora!” He slammed his fist to the table.
Footsteps echoed down the hall. Barnes stepped into the kitchen and aimed for the kettle. “You’re awfully loud first thing in the morning.”
“We’re in the paper. Did you see it?”
“I saw it,” Barnes said, in a monotone voice.
Barnes rarely showed emotion. Max envied the man’s self-control.
“We don’t need the publicity,” Max said. “It’s only going to muddle the investigation.”
Barnes didn’t respond.
“Is everybody here?” Max wanted to get started, frustrated that they’d wasted a full day chasing their tails.
“It’s just seven. I expect they’ll be down soon.” He turned to Max. “I tried to rouse Late Eddie from his spot in the den, but he’s out cold.”
“He had a late night,” Max said.
Barnes raised a brow.
“He and I went out.”
“Really? Trolling the pubs for women?”
“Not exactly. We were looking for Cassie,” Max explained.
“What, she went missing?”
“She went to visit family and I got worried.”
“Why?”
“It’s a long story,” Max said. “Wake everyone, will you?”
“But I—” He glanced at the teakettle, then back to Max. “Right.”
He strode past Max.
“Wait. Barnes?”
Barnes hesitated at the door and looked through his rimless specs at him.
“Don’t wake Cassie,” Max said. “She can join us when she’s ready.”
“Yes, sir.”
He disappeared into the hallway and Max heard him climb the stairs to the second floor.
She went to visit family and I got worried.
Why?
That one word haunted Max. Cassie had asked him the same question: Why was he worried about her last night?
Because after nearly a year of shutting himself off from the world, he’d finally started to care about someone: his little blond assistant.
A lot of good it did him. When he’d found Cassie it was obvious Max was the last person she wanted around, and it was even more obvious she didn’t need his help.
He’d been stunned when she’d lost it and attacked her ex-husband with such voracity. She would have kept on hitting and kicking him. It was a good thing Max showed up when he did. At least it kept her from being arrested. Max made sure of that. While Late Eddie took her to the car, Max had a proper chat with her ex, explaining the ramifications if he filed a police report.
Max said he had influence with the local police and they wouldn’t believe a word of his complaint. He also said that Cassie had moved on, to which the man said, “With a cripple?” Max had smiled and hadn’t disagreed. He let the bastard think she’d found an even bigger bastard to fall in love with.
Max finished by explaining that Cassie was part of a team of professionals that included former detectives from Scotland Yard and the Chicago Police. The ex would have to get past all of them to talk to her again. Max suggested he move on with his life; Cassie wanted no part of it.
When Max started toward the car, he’d heard the ex come up behind him. Max stepped aside and stuck out his cane, effectively sending the twit facedown on the sidewalk. With the tip of his cane to the back of the man’s neck, Max leveled one last warning, then headed for the car. The ex didn’t follow, most likely ashamed at being bested by a “cripple.”
Max pushed back from the kitchen table and limped to the coffeepot. Late Eddie could use a strong cup of coffee with the night he’d had. He’d really come through for Max.
Max poured a mug of coffee, his gaze drifting to the spot outside where Cassie had leaned into his chest last night. He wasn’t sure how to comfort her, so he’d stood there, feeling her heart beat against his chest, his own heart breaking a little as she rubbed her cheek against his shirt.
“Enough,” he muttered.
Max headed into the den in search of Eddie. He turned the corner and stopped in the doorway. The sofa was empty. He continued toward the front room. Soft voices echoed down the hall.
He went to the main room, surprised by the sight of Cassie kneeling beside the computer bloke. She rested her arm on the back of his chair.
“Good morning.” Max tried not to sound irritated by the fact that she wouldn’t accept his help last night but had obviously awakened Eddie to enlist his service.
Max went to Eddie’s desk and slid the mug next to a pile of papers. “Thought you’d need this.”
Eddie glanced at the mug. “Thanks, boss.”
“I didn’t think you’d be awake or I would have poured you something,” Max said to Cassie.
She stood, running her hands down her navy slacks, looking rather uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?” Max asked.
“No, no, everything’s fine,” Cassie said.
Eddie stared at his computer screen.
“Good,” Max said. “Why don’t you get yourself some coffee?”
She blinked bloodshot eyes at him. “Okay, thanks.”
She disappeared around the corner and Max turned his attention to Eddie. He wanted to ask what their little meeting was all about.
“Did you need something, sir?” Eddie glanced up.
“Actually, yes. Did you get that list of e-mails and messages from the latest victim’s computer?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good, print them out for me, will you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Eddie?”
“Sir?”
“Thanks for helping out last night.”
“No problem.”
Max heard the squeak of someone coming down the hardwood stairs. He turned to see Barnes hesitate at the bottom of the steps, stretching out his neck.
“They’ll be down in ten minutes,” Barnes said.
The front door swung open and Agent Kreegan walked into the command center, studying a piece of paper in her hand.
“Good morning,” Jeremy offered.
“Did you see this?” she said, not looking up. “I found it outside.”
It was then that Max noticed she was wearing latex gloves.
“What is it?” Max said.
“Looks like another note from our killer.”
Chapter Eight
Jeremy studied the note in the forensics expert’s hands. “Where did you find it?”
“Taped to the front door.”
“It wasn’t out there this morning when I brought in the paper,” Jeremy said.
“Which means, not only does he know where we live, but he was here within the last hour.” Max opened the front door and stepped outside.
Jeremy watched him glance down the street. Egomaniac killers often enjoyed watching their prey struggle and squirm. He could be standing down the block, waiting for a reaction.
“What’s he doing?” Agent Kreegan asked.
“Bag the note and be ready to report,” Jeremy said. “Meeting starts as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir.” She went to her desk, carefully placing the note in protective plastic.
“Coffee is in the kitchen,” Barnes said. “We need to get started. There’s been a development.”
“What’s it about, guv?” Bobby asked, rubbing his eyes.
“C.K. dropped off another note.”
“Dropped it off?” Art said, astonished.
“Yes. We’re meeting in five minutes.” Jeremy went out to the front landing, taking a position opposite Max. The former inspector was beating himself up for this, Jeremy could sense it.
Max pushed away from the brick, gripping his cane with deadly force. “Come and get me!” he called out.
With hands braced against the cement rail, Jeremy glanced at his polished shoes, avoiding Max’s eyes.
“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” Max said.
Jeremy looked at him. “I think you’re frustrated.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Wouldn’t know it by looking at you,” Max said.
No, Jeremy was the king of control, always keeping his emotions in order. In his mind, that was the most effective way to function in this profession. And his job was his life.
“I’ve got to be honest, Barnes.”
Jeremy held his breath. Max had never shared anything with him in the past.
“Something doesn’t tally.” Max leaned against the railing, shaking his head.
“Sir?”
The senior investigator looked at Jeremy. “C.K. never got this close before, never risked it.”
“You don’t think it’s C.K. then?”
“I’m not sure. Either it’s someone else, or he’s developed an addiction to game-playing he didn’t have before.”
“Serial murderers do mature,” Jeremy offered.
Max started back into the house. “Let’s make this quick. I want to get to the fraternity this morning.”
“Our appointment is at ten.”
“Phone them, push it up.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jeremy did as ordered, and then joined the team in the front room.
“We’re guessing it was dropped off this morning, between six-thirty and seven,” Agent Kreegan said. “It wasn’t there when Agent Barnes brought in the Tribune at six, but I found it taped to the door when I arrived.”