Along Came A Prince

by Carlyn Cade

  “Sit down,” she heard Ryan say, his voice sounding as if it were coming from Mars.

  Why is there a wet cloth on my forehead? She moved slightly and realized Ryan was holding her. She fought against opening her eyes to reality. It was better to drift in this feeling of peace enveloping her. What was she doing sitting on the floor in her brother’s arms? Don’t remember, her mind ordered, but it tricked her into remembering anyway.

  Ryan was holding her close to his chest. She could feel his heart thundering against her ear. “It’s okay, Stace. You’re safe here with me.”

  She opened her eyes and looked at him. Why hadn’t his words of comfort convinced her everything was all right? How could they when his face was lined with worry? “I fainted, didn’t I?” she asked. Her voice came out fluttery and weak, yet she was surprised she could talk at all.

  “Yeah, you did,” he confirmed.

  She tried to stand, and Ryan guided her to an upright position. Her legs miraculously held her up. She steadied herself as she leaned against him for support. “I’m fine now.” He let go of her, and she decided to sit down anyway. “You didn’t tell me what the note said before my little disappearing act.” Her body might be weak, but her brain was as strong as ever in the memory department.

  His phone rang. Ryan answered it. “Good,” he said a few moments later as he ended the conversation. He turned to Stacia. “The chief’s dispatching as many detectives and police officers as he can spare to question everyone entering, leaving or working inside the building, and to inspect the grounds and building for clues. So now all we have to do is wait.”

  “For him to strike again?” Stacia said, her words edged with cold resignation. “It seems weird to wait for one’s death.” A déjà vu´ feeling raced through her mind and disappeared instantly. “Once, I prayed for death,” she said, unaware the spoken words had even come from her mouth.

  “What?” Ryan asked. His expression was one of confusion before he chose to ignore her last remark. “Stace, A good chunk of the police force will be here shortly. There’s nothing to fear. They’ll be making a full investigation.

  “And what if he dresses up in a police uniform? He’s cunning enough to get one, you know. What if –”

  “Stop it, Stace.”

  Ryan might be able to stop her from speaking out loud about her fears, but she wished he could also stop her mind from thinking about it. Her instincts screamed, death any second. Suddenly, in the distance, the sound of sirens became audible. She listened as they screeched louder and louder, like a beacon light searching for a distressed ship at sea. The piercing sounds stopped at their peak.

  “They’re here,” Ryan announced.

  “Along with the media,” she remarked dryly.

  “Get over this hang-up you have about publicity. I don’t give a damn how much your face is plastered over TV or the newspapers. Just as long as that face is living and breathing.” He stomped out of the room.

  He’s right, as usual, Stacia thought. I only hope I live long enough to change.

  ♥♥

  “I’m sorry, Stace. I shouldn’t have left you in a huff,” Ryan said when he returned a short time later. “Guess I’m more stressed out than I realize.”

  “Did you find out how he got by security?”

  “We should have some answers shortly. They’re investigating everyone here.”

  “And in the meantime...”

  “We wait.” Ryan shifted his gun slightly.

  “You haven’t told me what the last note said.” She hadn’t asked before because of the debate going through her mind on whether or not she wanted to know the latest message. She finally decided she again needed to know.

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “It’s that bad?”

  “What good does it do to keep telling you everything? We’ll catch the bastard soon, and it’ll all be over.”

  “You’re talking about my life here. I have a right to know.”

  “And maybe in my professional role, I have a right not to tell you.”

  “That’s not good enough,” she said flatly. “What right do you have professionally not to tell me when my life is involved?”

  “Maybe the only right I have is I’m your brother, and I love you, and I’m watching out for you the best I can. Did you ever think of that?”

  “I still have the –”

  “You’re not going to leave me alone until I tell you, are you? You passed out awhile ago. What makes you think you won’t again when you hear the note? How much more can you take, Stace?”

  She stood up in front of him, her hands stuffed in her jeans’ pockets. “Fear is ignorance of the unknown. I need to know his latest move. I’ll still be afraid but, unlike you and your bullets, it’s the only ammunition I have.”

  Ryan stared at her for a long time. “Okay, you win.” He took the envelope from his pocket and yanked out the letter. “This one says, ‘The game is over, Audra, and so is the wait. Step out your door, and you’re mine. Bang! You’re dead.’”

  Stacia sat down hard on her sofa, terror rushing through her like a dam had broken free. “He couldn’t have chosen any other words in the dictionary that would have scared me more. Why does he think I’m Audra? There has to be more to this than what the notes have said.”

  “We’re working on all the angles, but so far...” Ryan shrugged his shoulders.

  Someone knocked on the front door, and the man guarding it looked through the peephole. “It’s Chief Brannigan.”

  Ryan started for the door. “Let him in,” he said.

  The man opened it, and a solemn-faced Brannigan walked in.

  “Saunders. Stacia,” he said and nodded toward the two of them.

  “What did you find out?” Ryan inquired.

  “Not anything good,” Brannigan stated gruffly. “We’ve also questioned the guard at the gate. He reported he knew everyone who’s entered with the exception of a man who came home with a Mrs. Melbourne who lives here. The security guard downstairs reported the same thing as the one at the entrance. He said the victim told him the man was her cousin from Utah. Since he knew her and she lived here, he figured she was telling the truth and didn’t question her further.”

  “Could this be our man?” Ryan asked.

  “I’m getting to that,” Brannigan said. “May I sit down? Never mind, I’d rather stand.”

  Why did the chief seem so ill-at-ease? “I know Mrs. Melbourne,” Stacia said. “She’s been a widow since before I moved here. She’s a lovely lady.”

  “A widow, lonely and vulnerable, evidently,” the chief said, compassion and pity written on his face. “We went to her condo immediately because it was the logical place to start. We hit pay dirt, except it’s not the kind we like to find.”

  “Wait, sir. Maybe my sister should leave the room. I don’t like what you’re leading up to.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Ryan,” Stacia said firmly as she crossed her arms. “Go ahead, sir,” she said to the chief.

  Brannigan looked at Ryan, who nodded his consent. “Mrs. Melbourne was murdered. She was shot in the head in her living room, among other things.”

  What other things? Stacia wondered, but she knew better than to ask. She didn’t want to know.

  Ryan moved toward her and put his arm around her.

  “I’m okay,” she whispered as she clenched her brother’s arm.

  “Was it our man or a coincidence?” Ryan asked.

  “We’re running a check on the killer’s M.O. We’re also checking out every angle, including the camera footage from when he came here with the victim. You know how we work, Saunders.”

  “And I know how long it takes.”

  “Unfortunately, we have to follow certain procedures and regulations.”

  “Yeah, red tape,” Ryan mumbled. “Well, I’m going to cut through that tape right now.” He stood up and headed toward the door.

  “I don’t know what you’re planning, Saunders. W
e’ll get him, you know that.”

  “Before or after my sister ends up like Mrs. Melbourne?” Ryan yelled out as he slammed the door.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Ryan sat in the dark inside his car, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He could think of no other plan for Stacia’s survival. He’d reached the dead-end road people in his profession hated most. Red tape waiting time, when the bad were protected by the law, and the good were unjustly abandoned. He could no longer follow the rules dictated to him by law and his superiors because the words, dead and end, were not how he wanted to describe his sister. He had to use his brotherly instincts to make certain that didn’t happen, and he only knew one quick way to do it.

  He pulled out his cell phone and tapped in a number.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, Clay. This is Ryan Saunders, Stacia’s brother. I wouldn’t be calling you if this weren’t an emergency. Stacia has –”

  “Is she all right?”

  “For the present, yes. But her life’s in jeopardy, and I intend to keep her all right.”

  “If Stacia’s in danger, I’ll be there in hours.”

  “You can’t.”

  “You can’t stop me.”

  “Clay, this has to stay confidential between us. You have to trust me. I’m with her every possible second, and I’m always armed.”

  “If Stacia’s life is in danger –”

  “She –” Ryan interrupted.

  “If her life is in danger,” Clay interrupted back. “I could come get her and bring her to SwissDen. She’d be safe here.”

  “How would you get her out of her condo? She won’t listen to me, and some psycho’s been sending her notes threatening her. The last one said if she stepped out of her door, she’d be dead. We have to believe that for the time being. We believe this stalker is hiding somewhere close waiting to gun her down. He’s already killed one woman to get closer to Stace. No, Clay, she’s safer here where I can protect her.”

  “What about disguises? She could dress like a man and we could sneak her out.”

  “A disguise? You’re not thinking rationally here. If I remember right, the last time you two tried disguises, the media recognized you anyway. Do you want to gamble her life against a disguise? I don’t.”

  “I can at least come there to help protect her.”

  “No, Clay, you can’t.”

  “You already said that,” Clay replied stubbornly. “I won’t agree with you no matter how many times you repeat yourself.”

  “Let me put it another way then. Not only do I need professionals guarding her, my sister wouldn’t approve of me calling you. I doubt she would talk to either of us for a long time. I learned years ago I can only push Stace so far. Even though she’d know I was trying to save her life, calling you is a line I should not be crossing. And I’m doing this solely because of who we’re dealing with,” Ryan admitted. “And she wouldn’t approve of the reason I called you either.”

  “Which is...”

  “As I said, some psycho’s been sending her threatening notes. He seems to think she’s Audra Parker.”

  “The actress from London Affair?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Do you know who he is?”

  “We don’t have a clue, and the notes keep coming. Each time one’s delivered, he gets bolder and bolder. I know he means what they say, and that’s where you come in.”

  “Me? How?”

  Ryan hesitated before continuing. “Since you’ve had your ice exhibit here, there’s been talk going around the precinct about you and your father. And...this is difficult for me to say...”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Well, rumors have linked your father with the Mafia. You don’t have to confirm or deny it.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Let’s just hypothesize here, Clay. I’m really desperate, or I wouldn’t be talking to you like this.”

  ”Keep going.”

  “In my scenario, if your father does have connections with the mob, I was hoping he could somehow quietly find out who’s threatening Stacia. I believe the person is in some way connected to Audra Parker. Otherwise, it makes no sense why he would call Stacia by Audra’s name. But then psychos never do make sense, so maybe I’m not even in the same ballgame. My sister told me the story about Audra’s death, and I know at the time she died, the studio had connections to the mob and took care of the three guys involved.”

  “And...?”

  “That’s about it. Except I don’t want a repeat of what happened to them. No rough stuff, understand? Just let me know his name, or his whereabouts, or have him taken to any police station and mention my name. He’s here in L.A. and has been in her building. The guy’s dangerous, and he’s no amateur.”

  “You know I’ll do anything for Stacia, right?”

  “I thought so. That’s why I called you.”

  “Then, I’ll talk –”

  “Don’t incriminate yourself by admitting something to me you may be sorry for later. I don’t want to know if your father is connected to the mafia. I just want this killer behind bars. And Clay, one more thing.”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t normally work this way.”

  “Neither do I.”

  ♥♥

  Ryan returned to Stacia’s condo after his call to Clay. The chief and Stacia were sitting in the living room the same way as when he left.

  “Did you cool off, Saunders?” Brannigan asked.

  “I did what I had to do,” Ryan said emphatically.

  “And what was that?” Stacia questioned.

  “Don’t ask, because I have no answer for you.”

  “Do you have one for me?” Brannigan inserted.

  “Not this time,” Ryan said and walked to the bar. “Anyone want something to drink?” He grabbed a bottle of beer out of the refrigerator, opened it and took a big swallow. “Got a bad taste in my mouth,” he stated as he wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand. He set the bottle down.

  Stacia wondered what Ryan could have done that suddenly gave him this air of belligerence, which was so out of character for him. I did what I had to do, he’d said. What did he mean by that? Such small words to have such a large impact on his change of attitude. Did he go see Mrs. Melbourne’s body? If he did, why would that make him belligerent? Stacia shivered as she thought about the woman’s demise.

  Brannigan stood up. “I’m going back to the victim’s place. Care to come along, Saunders?”

  “No thanks. You can handle that end of it.”

  The chief left, and Ryan drank a few swallows more of his beer.

  Stacia was still puzzled by the way her brother was acting. “I’ve never suggested this before, but perhaps when this is all over, you should think of changing your profession. I know I’d feel better if you did, and I’m sure Josie would too.” she said quietly.

  Ryan walked over and sat next to her. He looked directly into her eyes and placed his hand over Stacia’s. “I got into police work because I cared about helping people, and I wanted to make a difference in their lives. But when someone you love’s in danger, and you realize not enough is being done to keep that person safe, your values and decisions can change drastically. Instead of being detached as you must be in this line of work, you’re attached, and it affects your emotions in such a way that it controls everything you say or do.” He slapped his knees and stood up. “Well, that’s it, Stace. End of lecture.”

  And the end of asking him to change jobs for a safer one. She was so proud of him as her brother, and as a man dedicating his life to help other people. Stacia felt tears slipping down her face. “I love you.” she said. “And I know I’d feel the same way you do if I were in your position. But, we won’t let him win, Ryan. We’ll fight him together...somehow.”

  ♥♥

  “You know I don’t agree with everything you do, nor am I interested in knowing some of your activities,” Clay said to his father as they s
at behind the closed doors of his office.

  “And I didn’t involve you in any of these – as you call them – activities. You also know there’s only one reason why I’m involved in them.”

  “I don’t understand your reason. Why do you want your crown back? You have more riches now, and have had for years, than when you were king.”

  “There is a certain honor at stake here. The royal blood runs thick in our veins and has as far back as anyone can trace. To have our country snatched away by rebels who share only dirty blood running through them is not acceptable and never will be as long as I’m alive. Our people deserve better than that.” He shook his head. “Royalty is royalty. Peasants are peasants. You cannot change this. The blood lines should not be mixed.”

  Clay could see his father getting angrier by the second. He was sorry he’d ever brought the subject up. He should know better because their conversations always ended the same way, with his father getting incensed and him being repulsed. Clay didn’t have his father’s strong competitive demands, instead, he’d inherited his mother’s more subdued desires. Like her, he’d learned to accept what his father did because he loved him. He just couldn’t condone it.

  “And what will you do, son, when you become king? How will you run your kingdom differently?” His father seemed to have cooled down and adopted a different strategy.

  “First of all,” Clay said, “I don’t intend for you to die for a long time. And also, there’s no kingdom to run as far as I can see.”

  “But there will be – and sooner than you think. One of these days you’re going to have to take the responsibility you were born to assume.”

  “You had me just to be king?”

  “Of course not. That choice was made when you became my son.”

  “You’re forgetting one thing, Father. I also have a mother, and unfortunately for you, I am more like her.” What good did it do to re-hash this same argument over and over again? He had more important things to discuss with him. “I need your help. It’s about Stacia.”