Cassidy and the Princess

by Patricia Potter

  She stood back, Dan next to her. “Was anyone hurt in the explosion?”

  He shook his head.

  “He won’t stop at anything, will he.”

  Dan was silent.

  The door opened again and MacKay entered. His gaze found hers, studied her, then turned toward Sam. His expression was grim. She saw a muscle throb in his cheek.

  Dan didn’t wait. “There was an explosion at the end of the street. I went to see what happened. I think John was distracted. He was calling for fire trucks.”

  MacKay’s expression was withering. “You were told not to leave under any circumstances.”

  Marise moved then. “It wouldn’t have mattered. If it hadn’t been Sam, then Dan probably would have been shot. Sam…put himself between me and the window. So if there is anyone to blame, it’s me.”

  “You don’t know better,” he said harshly. “They do. It’s their job.”

  “He’s right,” Dan said. “I shouldn’t have left. I thought someone might be hurt.” He saw MacKay’s expression. “I know. That’s what he wanted me to think.”

  MacKay’s gaze returned to hers. His eyes softened as they lowered to her hands.

  She looked down. They were clasped together so tightly, it would probably take pliers to force them apart.

  The paramedics rolled Sam over on a stretcher, then lifted him.

  “How is he?” she asked.

  Neither of them answered her, just rushed him out to the ambulance.

  Sam was the detective with a wife. A flight attendant, she recalled. She swallowed hard. It really had been her fault. How could she have been so thoughtless as to approach the window?

  Because she’d thought herself safe in this house. In this neighborhood. With these people.

  But this proved she wasn’t safe anywhere. Nor was anyone who was with her.

  Chapter 11

  Cassidy couldn’t remember when he’d been so angry. Or had as many doubts about his own abilities.

  He’d heard the call on his way home. He had invited an attack; he hadn’t expected outright war on the part of the perpetrator.

  But then, he’d miscalculated since the beginning of this case. Perhaps that’s why he was giving Dan such a hard time. He blamed himself every bit as much as he did Dan, and he would let the detective know that.

  He tried to soften his voice. Marise’s face was pale, almost bloodless. It was obvious that she felt she was responsible for Sam’s injury. But Cassidy knew Sam would have peered out the window, anyway.

  He didn’t want her to feel the blame for this. It was his fault this time. Entirely his. He should have anticipated this, just as he should have anticipated the attack in the hospital.

  It was evident she wasn’t safe here. He would understand if she didn’t feel safe anywhere in police protection.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “So am I,” she said. “Sam?”

  “I think he’ll make it,” he said. “The hospital has a great trauma unit.”

  “Shouldn’t you go with him?”

  He shook his head. “Right now, I’m not leaving you again.”

  “I can go, too.”

  “No,” he said. “I’m taking you somewhere else until Monday morning.”

  “Where?”

  Cassidy shook his head. Maybe he was paranoid but he didn’t plan to say anything in this house. The killer had gotten very, very close. There might even be some kind of parabolic microphone nearby in the neighborhood.

  That the killer had tried again when he must know she was well protected spoke of his desperation. Or his belief that he could outsmart the police.

  Was Charles Norris their man? Where was he tonight?

  “What about Sam’s wife?” she continued, breaking into his thoughts.

  “The captain will notify her. Someone will find her and take her to the hospital.”

  Marise was silent, but he saw the pain in her eyes. She wasn’t worried about herself nearly as much as she was worried about Sam. About Sam’s wife. That part of him that he thought had stopped feeling was beating hard again. Fast.

  He willed it to slow. He needed to keep his wits about him.

  He would check on Sam as soon as he could. Right now, he needed to get her out of here.

  The uniformed officers were still waiting for instructions. He called Manny on the cell phone. His partner was at the station, coordinating the search on Norris.

  “Anything yet?” Cassidy asked him.

  “Nothing more than circumstantial stuff.”

  “Sam’s been shot. There was an explosion at the Anderson home in the next block. They weren’t home, but Dan left my place to check on it. Someone took a shot at Marise through the window, and caught Sam, instead.”

  Manny muttered something on the phone, then asked, “How’s Sam?”

  “It’s serious,” Cassidy said. “He’s still in surgery. A chest wound.”

  Another mutter. Manny never cursed. A mutter was as close to it as he got. “How’s Marise?”

  “She’s shaken but uninjured. I want to keep her that way.”

  “Okay,” Manny said. “I’m on my way over. I’ll tell the guys to check and see where Norris was tonight. Or do you think we should bring him in for questioning.”

  “Not until I know where he was tonight. Was he working? Find that out first. If he was at the hospital, then he isn’t our man. And tell our people not to spook him.”

  “What now?”

  “I want to get her away from the house,” Cassidy said.

  “Where are we going?” Manny asked.

  “Just pack a bag,” Cassidy said.

  Manny hung up. He’d gotten the message.

  “Tonight?” Marise asked.

  “Tonight,” he said. “Our guy’s getting more and more reckless. I’m not taking any more chances.”

  She looked at him with those big blue eyes. He knew she must be wondering what she had gotten herself into. But instead of voicing recriminations, she turned and went into the other room. He saw her slumped shoulders and he wanted to take her into his arms. It hurt to think that she might feel Sam’s injury was her fault. They were the professionals.

  He called his captain. Haynes would be awake, having been notified immediately about Sam.

  The captain answered. “I’m on my way to the hospital. What happened?”

  Cassidy quickly ran through the events. At least, what he knew about them. “I want to take her out of the city.”

  “Take Manny with you,” Haynes said. “You want anyone else?”

  “No. But I would like a couple of officers at my house until the window is fixed. And I want a security system.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” The captain was silent a moment. “You still think Monday’s press conference is a good idea?”

  “I think it’s worth a chance. This guy is getting desperate.”

  “But not particularly careless,” Haynes reminded him.

  “Well, now we have a bullet.”

  “That doesn’t help much without the gun. Are you sure you can keep her safe until Monday?”

  “I’ll keep her safe,” Cassidy said grimly.

  Cassidy had hung up by the time Marise returned. She had run a comb through her hair, and added a touch of lipstick and cheek blush that gave her face some color. Her eyes looked tired. Sad. He wanted to bring back that spirit that gave them so much life.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t do a very good job in protecting you.”

  “I’m alive,” she said.

  “No thanks to me,” he said. He looked down at his watch. It had been nearly two hours since the shooting. He wanted the forensics team here before he left. He got back on the phone.

  Minutes later, a van arrived.

  “They’ll be establishing the crime scene,” he said. “They’ll have a few questions for you, to determine where the shot came from.”

  She nodded as he went to the door and opened it. A tall woman
and a shorter man came in. “This is Doc,” Cassidy said as he introduced the woman. “She’s the best we have in Forensics. And this is Milt.”

  She stuck out her hand. “I’m Marise Merrick,” she said.

  “It’s a pleasure, Miss Merrick,” Doc said as she took Marise’s hand. “I’ve seen you skate.”

  Doc turned back to MacKay. “Sorry I wasn’t here sooner. They woke me up, and I had to wake Milt.”

  Milt looked as if he’d just been roused. His hair was mussed; his shirt wasn’t buttoned all the way and the tail wasn’t quite tucked in. It didn’t seem to bother him, though. He just looked at the blood on the floor. “Where was the detective standing?” he asked.

  Marise started to move toward the window.

  “No,” Doc said.

  “You tell me where he was standing,” Cassidy said.

  Horror filled her face. “You think he’s out there now?”

  “No,” he said. “I’m more Sam’s size than you are.” It was only part of the truth. He wasn’t taking any more chances.

  But her face cleared slightly. “A little to the left,” she said.

  After several more instructions, he was in place.

  “Where was Detective Preston shot?” Milt asked.

  “His chest.”

  “Show us,” Doc insisted. He placed a small note-size piece of paper from a sticky pad on Cassidy’s chest. “That it?”

  She nodded.

  Cassidy stood in the same spot Sam had stood, while Doc and Milt went outside. He remained perfectly still as they roped off an area, took a number of photos, then came back inside. “All right, Cass, you can move now.”

  Cassidy nodded. “Thanks, Doc.”

  “We’ll stay here until it’s light. See if we can’t find some shoe prints or something else.” She nodded at Marise. “I would say it’s nice to meet you, but I know it’s not that great for you.”

  “Thank you for your help,” Marise said.

  “We’ll be leaving in a few hours,” Cassidy said. “There will be officers here.”

  “Okay. What’s your cell number?”

  Cassidy gave it to her. She went back out the door, Milt following her.

  “Why aren’t there any female officers protecting me?”

  He turned and looked at Marise. “Because I wanted people I’ve worked with for years.”

  “People you can trust,” she said. “But we know it’s not a woman.” It was more a statement than a question.

  “There are several I would trust with my life. None were available. I’ve worked with these guys, and I know what they can do.”

  “You think someone with the police department might be involved?”

  “No,” he said. “But I didn’t want to take a chance. Whoever this guy is, he knows something about police procedure. I wanted people I’ve worked with before.”

  She didn’t say anything, just turned away and sat down. He noticed she’d placed her suitcase next to the chair.

  He dialed Stan at police headquarters. “Send someone back to the place where Norris works. Do it in the morning when Norris won’t be working. I want all the prints there.”

  “There will be a lot of them.”

  “This guy used a gun last night. He’s a good shot. He could have a police background. If so, prints will be on file.”

  “Will do,” Stan said.

  Taking all those prints would require time Cassidy didn’t have. Marise didn’t have.

  His cell phone rang. “I’m at home,” Manny said.

  “Marise and I will be over there. We’ll take the back way.”

  “The gate will be open.”

  Marise napped part of the way. She’d felt drained physically, emotionally and mentally. Visions of Sam lying on the floor as blood spread over his shirt haunted her. She wondered whether they would haunt her forever.

  Just as a dark figure in shadows haunted her. Just as roses haunted her.

  Manny drove. She sat in the back seat with MacKay. They had left his house, snuck through an alleyway to Manny’s home. There she’d met Janie, Manny’s wife, and then was tucked into the back seat of Manny’s car. No one would be looking for Manny’s car.

  Up to now, she’d had the feeling of being a character in a thriller novel. Nothing had quite driven home the reality of her situation until she knelt next to Sam and saw the blood flowing from his chest. She had washed but she still felt the blood on her hands. Warm. Thick.

  And the sickness inside at not being able to do anything.

  She wondered whether she was in shock, as Manny steered the car out of the driveway and down the street. She was aware that MacKay was keeping an eye out behind them until they were well on their way.

  “Where are we going?” she finally asked.

  “My brother-in-law’s place.”

  “How far is it?”

  “About two hours. Try to get some rest. It’s nearly three in the morning.”

  She huddled in a corner. The air was warm inside, but she felt chilled. She shivered, and he put his jacket around her. Then she closed her eyes, not wanting him to see how unnerved she was.

  She must have drifted off, because she woke to a jarring and realized they must have turned onto a rutted dirt road. She was no longer huddled in the corner of the car, but was tucked against MacKay. His arm was around her, and she realized her head was on his shoulder.

  Everything came back. The blood. The expression on Sam’s face. The sound of sirens. The arm tightened around her. “It’s okay,” he said. “We’re almost there, and then you can get some sleep.”

  She sat up and looked around, then out the back window.

  “No one followed us. No one knows we’re here. Not even Manny’s wife. Not even my captain. There aren’t going to be any leaks.”

  “How would they know, then, if…?”

  “Nothing’s going to happen. Still, I’m to check in every eight hours on the cell phone.”

  “Sam? Do you know anything about Sam?”

  “Not yet. I’ll call the hospital as soon as we get settled.”

  She sat up, pushing back hair that had fallen away from her braid. It was still dark, and the woods looked shadowy—not safe at all. But she held those feelings inside as Manny turned onto another road. She could see water and the silhouette of boathouses on the right side. Manny drove perhaps another half mile before turning into a driveway. He stopped and parked the car.

  “Stay here with Marise,” MacKay told Manny. He got out and went to the house.

  Through the moonlight, Marise saw a large log cabin structure with a screened front porch that overlooked the lake.

  She and Manny waited, as MacKay took keys from his pocket and disappeared inside. Within minutes he was back, opening her door.

  He offered his hand, and she took it, knowing exactly what was going to happen. Despite feeling both exhausted and heart-sore, the warmth from his hand sent a jolt of electricity running through her veins. And yet it was comforting at the same time.

  How could that be so?

  He put his arm around her as if he feared she would fall. The ground was rough and she stumbled once, wondering at that because she was usually surefooted. She stopped for a moment, trying to stop her legs from trembling. She didn’t know whether it was his proximity, her exhaustion or the lingering effects of violence.

  He lifted her, cradling her in his arms. She found herself snuggling there.

  Paul, of course, lifted her all the time. She could always rely on his solid strength, the sureness of his hold. But this was different. She felt as if she belonged here, as if in some way she had come home.

  She’d never felt that way with Paul. Why with this detective, whose life revolved around violence? After the past two days, she couldn’t imagine living that way. Yet Janie had accomplished it successfully. So, apparently, had Sam in his second marriage.

  And then she thought of Sam lying on the floor.

  MacKay pushed the door open and wen
t inside. He gently lowered her to the sofa, as Manny came in with one large bag of groceries and her suitcase. They must have stopped for groceries and she hadn’t been aware of it. Had she really slept that hard?

  “Are you all right?” MacKay asked her.

  She tried to smile. “Yes.”

  “I wouldn’t be,” he replied roughly.

  “I wasn’t the one who was hurt,” she said. She didn’t want to appear weak. Or terrified. She’d tried so hard not to be either. “Can you call and see how Sam is?” Then she wondered out loud, “Or is it safe?”

  “There are ways of tracing a cell phone, but first someone would need this number and would have to have access to some very sophisticated equipment. I’ll call Doc on her cell phone. That should be safe enough.”

  He picked up the phone. “Doc?” she heard him ask. “Do you know anything about Sam?” He listened for a moment, then said, “Thanks,” and hung up.

  Manny had taken wood from a stack next to the fireplace and was building a fire in the hearth. He stopped midway, waiting.

  “He made it through surgery. The doctor thinks he’ll make it.”

  Marise released a breath she hadn’t been aware was trapped in her throat, then said a brief prayer of thanks.

  She looked out. The first rays of light were creeping into the room.

  “To bed with you, Miss Merrick,” MacKay said sternly.

  “I’m awake now,” she said.

  “You won’t be once you get into bed.”

  He went to the hall. “There are three bedrooms. This time you get your choice.”

  He waited for her. She got up from the sofa and walked down the hall. The floor was hardwood with colorful rugs scattered throughout, including one that ran the length of the hall. She stopped at the first room. The bed was high and had a thick comforter. A comfortable-looking overstuffed chair sat between a window and a dresser.

  “This is fine,” she said.

  He put the suitcase on the bed. “You take the bathroom first,” he said. “I’ll make some hot chocolate.”

  “You bought hot chocolate?”

  “Manny’s wife sent a care package.”

  Suddenly she did feel tired again. Hot chocolate sounded wonderful. Being pampered felt even better. Especially being pampered by Cassidy MacKay. She doubted if he made hot chocolate often.