by Jane Blythe
“Right now we’re pursuing several leads,” he told her vaguely.
Annoyed, she wiggled free from his grip. “That’s a terrible answer.”
“Well, it’s all I can give you at the moment,” he replied unapologetically.
“You keep sending me mixed signals,” she groaned. “Sometimes you’re really nice and sometimes you’re almost cold. Are you interested in me or not?”
“I'm…” he started to answer as the door swung open.
“Xavier, Rob wants to see us, now,” Detective Hannah announced, then disappeared as quickly as she’d come.
“We’re not finished talking,” Detective Montague informed her as he headed for the door. “Wait for me at my desk. When I'm done, I’ll come get you and we’ll grab some lunch.”
“Detective Montague, I don’t think that’s a good…” Annabelle protested immediately.
He interrupted, “Xavier,” he corrected. “Please, Annabelle, wait for me.”
“Fine,” she agreed reluctantly, not sure why she would consent to go on a date with this man, and hoping that she didn’t like it. Once he was gone, she gathered herself and breezed out into the main room, located Detective Montague’s desk, and sat. Feeling very conspicuous, Annabelle began to fiddle with the pile of pens on the desk. She didn’t think it was a good idea to start calling Detective Montague by his first name. They weren’t dating—they weren’t even friends—and he had been completely accurate when he’d said that she was just a victim in a case he was working.
Yet she knew he wanted it to be more than that.
And she didn’t.
Well, at least she thought she didn’t, but he had called her Belle.
When she’d been a lonely, sad little girl she had had a dream where her prince charming had come riding in on a big white horse and carried her away to live in a big beautiful castle, where she would never be sad or lonely ever again. Her prince charming had called her Belle. No one else had ever called her that. Not her parents or her siblings or any of the few friends she’d had, just the man who would love her and care for her forever and ever.
As a little girl, Annabelle had thought it was so special for her prince to call her Belle, and in her head, she had grown to connect the name Belle to the man who would love her like no one else ever had.
It was stupid.
She knew that.
It was just a coincidence that Xavier had called her Belle. She was letting her childhood dreams cloud her judgment. Whatever Xavier saw in her wasn’t really there. He would quickly realize that and forget all about her, and she would forget all about him, too.
Only she knew that was never going to happen. In her mind, Detective Montague had already morphed into Xavier.
She was attempting to spin one of his pens around her fingers, when it flew across the desk and into a stack of papers instead. Reaching out a hand to retrieve it, she accidentally sent the papers scattering. Distracted, she began to restack the pile when she saw a photo of her house. These must be the crime scene pictures. Against her better judgment, Annabelle began to rifle through them. She didn’t expect to see anything she hadn’t already because she’d already been back to her house and seen all the blood.
Then her hand froze.
It was a photo of her parents. Only they weren’t her parents anymore.
Well they were, only someone had slashed their throats, ripped out their eyes, cut out their tongues, and chopped off their hands.
Rifling quickly through the stack, she found one of her brother Julian, and one of Paul.
Their bodies had been mutilated, too.
Hesitating before she continued, surely there couldn’t be one of Katherine. No one could do this to a seven-year-old child. But the very next picture showed her baby sister’s lifeless corpse, minus hands, tongue, and eyes.
How could any person have this much hate for another human being that they could mutilate them so horribly?
Her hands began to shake uncontrollably.
Someone had done this to her family and Detective Montague, who had pretended to be so understanding and thoughtful, had accused her of doing this.
Feeling her whole body begin to quake, she dropped the papers on Detective Montague’s desk and fled for the elevator.
“Annabelle?”
Spinning around, she found Detective Hannah watching her worriedly.
“You look pale? Is everything okay?”
“Fine,” she managed to croak out, then fled before the detective could pepper her with more questions. With tears pricking the backs of her eyes and a sob catching in her throat, Annabelle desperately sought refuge. The only problem was she didn’t know where to go to find it.
* * * * *
12:36 P.M.
“Kate? What’s up?” Xavier was looking from his empty desk to his partner who was staring intently at the elevator. He hoped that Kate hadn’t said anything to Annabelle to upset her. He had felt like he was finally making progress with her when she agreed to go out for lunch with him.
“Annabelle just ran out of here like the place was on fire.” Kate turned to look at him, and he saw the genuine concern there.
“Did you say something to her?”
“No, she was already at the elevator when I came in,” Kate explained. “I just asked her if she was okay. She said she was fine, but she looked pale—something really freaked her out.”
“I asked her to wait at my desk until we were done with Rob, then we were going to have lunch.” Xavier was already half way to his desk and when he was close enough, he saw immediately what had upset Annabelle.
“Xavier? What is it?” Kate came up beside him.
“She saw these.” He held out the crime scene photos from the Englewood house, struggling to draw a deep breath as he pictured how Annabelle had felt seeing what had been done to her family.
“Oh…” Kate looked horrified. “Well, that certainly explains the look on her face.”
“I've got to go and find her.” He’d already made the mistake of leaving her alone this morning; he wasn’t going to do that again.
“Go,” Kate nodded. “Wait, Xavier, you don’t know where she is. Do you want me to put out an APB on her?”
“No, I know where she’ll be.” He grabbed his jacket, keys and cell phone, positive that he knew where Annabelle would have fled.
“Okay, call me when you find her,” Kate called to his back as he took the stairs down to the parking garage.
Xavier hardly remembered the drive to his house. All he could think of was that he hoped he was right and Annabelle had sought sanctuary at his house. And that she hadn’t done anything stupid.
Thoughts of Julia couldn’t help but infiltrate his mind.
He remembered the fear he’d felt that night as he’d sped home, unsure of what he’d find when he got there. The scene that met him when he arrived was chaotic. Police officers everywhere, the blood, the screaming, the feeling of wondering how he could be married to someone and yet know so little about what went on inside their head. That was the night he’d found out Julia had been raped. That was the night he’d found out just how far gone Julia really was. That was the night that he’d lost her forever.
He couldn’t go through that again.
Whipping his car into the driveway, he didn’t bother to lock it as he flew through the front door. Immediately he let out a breath when he heard the shower running; at least he had been right about where he’d find her.
Satisfied she was there, he slowed his pace. Annabelle was upset, she’d just seen the pictures of what someone had done to her family, of what she had been accused of doing, and the last thing he wanted to do was startle her.
Plus, he was also pretty sure that some of her anger would be directed at him. She knew he was interested in her, and he knew she would be upset that he hadn’t told her about the post-mortem mutilation, and that he had thought her capable of such a heinous act.
Reaching the bathroom, he heard the
sound of sobbing mingle with the pounding water. Edging the door open, he saw her huddled on the floor of the shower. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, her head tucked in, and her arms encircled her body like she was physically holding herself together.
Without a second thought, Xavier stripped off his shirt, dropped his pants and boxers, and opened the shower door. Annabelle didn’t notice him until he sat behind her and pulled her against his chest.
He expected her to fight him, but instead she came into his arms willingly, resting against him as she cried. When her sobs ceased, Xavier held her for a moment longer, and then gently tugged her to her feet. Again, she came willingly and stood still while he poured some shampoo into the palm of his hand and began to wash her hair. Annabelle leaned into him as he massaged her head, pressing against him, and he had to struggle to reign in his desire.
When he was done, he turned off the shower and drew her out behind him. Rubbing her dry with a towel, Annabelle barely seemed to register him; her white eyes were still glazed with shock. Throwing his clothes back on, he wrapped her in a fluffy towel and carried her to his room, setting her down on the bed as he went to find her something to wear. In the spare room, he dug out some of Julia’s old clothes he hadn’t been able to part with yet, which were still packed away in boxes.
Returning to the bedroom, he saw Annabelle’s eyes were closed and he assumed she had fallen asleep, but at his touch they popped back open. She didn’t move while he slipped the sweatshirt over her head and tugged her arms through the sleeves, carefully trying to avoid causing pain to her injured shoulder.
He needn’t have bothered; Annabelle seemed to have retreated from the world to hide inside herself. Probably a trick she had employed many times over the years and would likely employ many more before this was over.
The sweat pants he slipped her legs into were way too long. Julia had been a good five inches taller than Annabelle, so he rolled them up. After dressing her, he tucked the covers up around her chin and stretched out beside her, surprised and pleased when she immediately curled into him, nestling her face against his neck.
Soaking in how amazing it felt to be holding Annabelle in his arms, for a few minutes Xavier just allowed himself to enjoy it. However, he knew it couldn’t last, he and Annabelle needed to talk about what she had discovered. Gently he began to stroke her hair. “Belle, I think we should talk.”
“Why do you call me Belle?” came the soft reply.
“I don’t know, why?” he answered, surprised with the question.
“It’s stupid.”
“You can tell me anything.” He slid his arm out from under her and propped himself up on his elbows so he could see her better.
“When I was little, I used to dream that the man who would love me called me Belle,” she answered dully, her unfocused gaze staring unseeingly through him.
He was touched by the sadness and longing in her voice. “I’m sure your family loved you,” he assured her, knowing what it was like to grow up sure, and yet not quite sure that your family loved you.
At that, tears began to trickle down her cheeks again. “How could someone do that? How could someone chop off the hands and rip out the eyes and tongue of another person? It’s so horrible. Wasn’t killing them enough? What kind of monster did this?”
“I don’t know,” he answered her truthfully. “I don’t know why he did it, but I think that it means something to him, and that’s a good thing. If he’s doing this for a specific reason, then it means we can find him.”
“How could you think that I could do that?” she whispered desperately.
“It wasn’t that I wanted to think you did it, that was what the initial evidence suggested,” he explained. “I am sorry, Belle, really sorry,” he assured her, hoping that she would be able to forgive him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” her voice was flat, more disappointed than accusing.
“Because I didn’t think you needed to know.”
“You didn’t think I needed to know?” she repeated, with only a hint of incredulity. “My parents and brothers and sister were mutilated, and you didn’t think I had a right to know that?”
“I didn’t think you could deal with it right now; I would have told you when you were ready to hear it.” Xavier wasn’t sure he would have ever told her unless backed into a corner.
“Do you really think Dr. Daniels could be the killer?” Annabelle was still steadfastly refusing to meet his gaze.
“Maybe, but he’s not the only person we’re looking into at the moment.”
Annabelle pressed her body closer against his. “Xavier, I know you have to work, but would it be okay if you stayed here with me for a little while?”
Ignoring the burning desire pulsing inside his body, Xavier told himself that Annabelle needed his support right now, nothing more. “Of course.” His hand cradled her head against his chest, his face in her hair. “I'm not going to leave you,” he promised. “Just try to get some rest. I'm gonna call Kate and tell her I'm not coming back in today and I'm going to stay right here by your side for as long as you need me to.”
He deliberately did not add that he hoped that would be for a really long time. Annabelle was in no frame of mind to be committing to a relationship right now. She needed a friend, someone to help her with no strings attached. He would be that person for her, and if when this was over, she decided she wanted more, then great; and if not he’d walk away. As hard as he knew it would be, if him walking away was what Annabelle wanted, then he would do it.
He tenderly kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose; hesitating, his lips hovered above hers. Xavier wanted more than anything to kiss her but Annabelle was vulnerable right now, and she’d already accused him of taking advantage of her once. He didn’t want to ruin things between them before they even started by doing it again.
Then Annabelle’s eyes met his for the first time. In them, he saw acknowledgment of what he wanted to do and permission to do it, and ever so slowly he brought his mouth to hers. Ensuring the kiss was soft and light, Annabelle didn’t return it, but she didn’t shrink away from it either.
When he pulled back he met her hungry eyes, and she laced her fingers in his hair and pulled his mouth back down upon hers. This time, her kiss was hard and fiery and the next thing he knew she had released his hair and her fingers were fumbling at his belt.
Breaking off the kiss, he caught her hands and stilled them. “Belle, wait.” He stopped her. “If and when we do this, I want it to be perfect. I want it to be something we’re both going to remember for the rest of our lives. I want it to be something that you want to do, not something you think will make you forget about everything you’ve been through. I’m sorry, I don’t want to hurt you.”
Annabelle nodded, her face growing sad once more, and as he lay back down beside her, she immediately folded into him. With his arms encircling her, he resumed stroking her hair, and in less than five minutes, he felt her relax against him, sleep taking hold.
Reaching out a hand to grab the phone from his bedside table, Xavier hoped that when he found this killer, Annabelle would give him a chance, give them a chance, and not ask him to walk away.
MAY 9th
7:02 A.M.
“I have bad news,” Diane entered Rob’s office with a grim face.
“More bad news?” Xavier didn’t want anything to spoil the high he’d been riding since yesterday afternoon. Although he’d laid awake for close to two hours holding Annabelle in his arms as she slept, he had eventually dozed off, awakening in the early evening to Annabelle’s whimpering. Drawing her closer, she had immediately settled back down, and another hour passed before she had awakened in a panic.
Xavier had been concerned that when Annabelle awoke, her numb and flat mood would have been replaced by one of anger and resentment, and that she would immediately begin to push him away. But Annabelle had allowed him to comfort her as she was held in the grip of her nightmare, and when he’d s
uggested dinner she had willingly followed him to the kitchen, watching absently as he prepared something for them to eat.
After dinner, they’d watched a movie. Sitting together on the couch had reminded Xavier of all those good times with Julia just after they had been married. He’d missed simple pleasures like that and wondered why he had kept himself out of circulation for so long. He loved being in a relationship.
When darkness had fallen and he told her it was time for bed, he had waited with bated breath for her to make a decision when he’d asked if she wanted to sleep in the spare room or his room. Without much hesitation she had chosen his room, so once again he had fallen asleep with a woman curled up in his arms.
This morning he had refrained from making the same mistake as the previous day and awakened Annabelle to inform her that he had to go to work. Unsure about leaving her alone, he didn’t think that she would do anything stupid but she was still in shock and shouldn’t have to be alone right now. He had even bitten his tongue and offered to call her friend, Ricky Preston. Annabelle had insisted, though, that she didn’t mind staying alone, and that she wouldn’t mind some peace and quiet to process things. So he had reluctantly left her in his living room, curled up in a corner of the couch looking small and scared, and come in to work where apparently more bad news awaited them.
“What’ve you got, Diane?” Rob asked tiredly, none of them wanted to hear more bad news on this case.
Diane cast him a concerned glance that made his heart beat uncomfortably hard. “What’s going on?” Xavier asked.
“It’s about Annabelle.” Diane now avoided his gaze.
“What about her?” He didn’t like the fact that Kate wasn’t the only one who seemed to know that he was attracted to Annabelle.
“I was finishing up with the evidence we collected from the Englewood house. I was going through the things from Annabelle’s room, and…” she trailed off.
A horrible feeling brewed in his gut. “Don’t tell me you think Annabelle is involved in this…”
