Cassidy and the Princess

by Patricia Potter

  “No, it won’t. Not all of it. There have been some…good moments.”

  “It’s the adrenaline, darlin’,” he said lightly. It rang false, even to him.

  “No,” she said with dignity and a poignant assurance.

  She went inside before he could say anything else.

  Chapter 14

  Marise spent an hour doing stretching and aerobic conditioning. It had been three days since she had done any, and now she worked until she was exhausted.

  She kept thinking of the new victim of the killer. A blond student. She knew exactly how the woman had felt in her last moments. The terror. The helplessness. The knowledge that she’d made a terrible mistake by being out alone at night.

  Marise could smell the same odor the woman must have smelled, feel the same strong hands and the edge of a knife.

  Despite MacKay’s assurances that the killer would have struck anyway, she couldn’t get the idea out of her mind that that student might have been a substitute.

  She knew it was foolish to feel guilt. But she did. As well as the renewal of fear. She’d tried to dismiss it earlier. She didn’t want it to rule her life, because then the killer would have won even if he hadn’t ended her life. She’d tried not to show it to Cassidy or Manny.

  So she tried to work through it. Sweat through it.

  And hopefully work off the other roiling emotions she felt.

  Cassidy had made it clear that he was going to avoid her. As much as one could avoid another person in a fairly small cabin. She saw the torment in his eyes, and knew he was determined not to repeat yesterday’s…mistake. But it wasn’t a mistake to her, and her heart shriveled at the thought that it was exactly that to him.

  She didn’t go outside the room until she heard Manny’s voice. Then she knew it was safe.

  She took a long shower. First, hot water to work out the kinks in her muscles, then cold water for a dash of reality.

  The questions in Cassidy’s eyes when she’d talked about Paul and her mother made her realize how she’d given up so much of herself.

  He didn’t know all the circumstances of her father’s death, of course, but she was beginning to free herself from it.

  She had to place in the Sectional in Seattle, then the National, and, if she and Paul got that far, the Olympics, then Worlds. After that, she would retire from the intense competition that she’d never really liked. Perhaps she could skate as a singles in challenges or ice shows, or television productions.

  And coach. She would like that. Not the high-stakes competition coaching that David did, but working with youngsters who wanted to skate for the love of skating.

  Could she support herself on that?

  And her mother? Her mother was only fifty. Cara Merrick loved the competitive skating world and could make a successful career out of organizing events or as a business manager. But she would never do it as long as she could live vicariously through her daughter.

  It was time that they both let go.

  The water was like falling ice shards. Even at twenty-four, she found it hard to let go of all the forces that had influenced her.

  She turned off the shower and stepped out, toweling herself and then her hair. She pulled on a pair of slacks and a sweater. She brushed her hair until it started to dry.

  She knew she needed to call Paul again. Her mother and Paul had probably gone crazy if they tried to call her at Cassidy’s number. She just didn’t know if she could go through the same questions and protestations again.

  And now was not the time to tell Paul what she’d just decided. She had to do that in person.

  She applied a little lipstick, then stepped out.

  Manny and Cassidy were around the table. They both looked up as she came into the room.

  Manny started to rise, and she shook her head. “Please don’t,” she said.

  He sat back down.

  She went into the kitchen, got a diet soda from the fridge and returned. “Any more leads from the task force?” she asked. “You said they were going to bring the suspect in.”

  “Only that they haven’t found any other leads. Except for that one night, he fits all the criteria. We have a few more backgrounds to check, but so far…”

  She felt a black hole gaping inside her. She had so hoped they had found the man. “When are they going to question him?”

  “The captain decided to wait to question him until after your press conference in the morning. They want to know if he tries to attend, or even comes into the hospital. His shift begins at midnight.”

  “And if he does?”

  “Then, it’s another indication of…his interest in you. We need as much as we can get before questioning him.”

  “Because you still don’t have evidence?”

  “Not sufficient to charge him,” he admitted.

  “I promised Paul I would be back by Wednesday. We need that long before the Sectional begins next week.”

  His face was expressionless. “I know.”

  “I will leave on Wednesday,” she added. “I have to.”

  A muscle in his jaw worked. Then he nodded.

  “What about some opera?” Manny said.

  Cassidy looked as startled as she felt at the question. “Opera?”

  “I know Cassidy likes it, so I brought a couple of cassettes with me,” Manny said. “You can listen while I go and see if I can catch some fish for supper.”

  “Good cover,” Cassidy said.

  “What’s this cover business?” Manny said with a grin. “You know I like to fish.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since it’s the alternative to canned chili,” Manny said. “Is the equipment still in the boathouse?”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay. I’ll fish and keep an eye on the lake and the road.”

  “I’ll have the chili ready.”

  “Ye of little faith,” Manny said.

  The old bantering was back. Marise felt a sense of relief. Something had been worked out while she was in the other room.

  The sound of Puccini’s La Bohème floated through the room.

  Marise watched as Cassidy sat back on the sofa, folded his hands at the back of his neck and rested his head against them. She’d skated to one of the arias once, and she knew the music well. For some reason she hadn’t suspected that a suspicious police detective who worked with his hands would know it well, too.

  But from the expression on his face, he did. Another side of a man who kept surprising her.

  She sat back and listened, satisfied just to be in the room with him and the majestic music. She closed her eyes, so as not to be seen staring at him, and tried to relax. Unfortunately, his image appeared larger and larger in her mind. Her eyes might as well have been wide-open and fixed on him.

  A phone rang and startled her.

  Cassidy rose from the sofa, turned down the stereo and answered.

  He spoke in monosyllables. Negative and positive.

  Then he said, “Do we still need the press conference?” Silence on his part, then he said, “Okay,” and hung up. “We might have another witness. The beat officers found a man who thinks he might have seen something last night.”

  Relief flooded her. “What?”

  “He saw a late-model car follow a young blond woman. He didn’t think anything of it at the time. Just thought it was someone trying to pick her up. But it’s a dark sedan just like the one that was stolen and left at the MARTA station. This is a guy of habit. The preliminary FBI profile said that.”

  She hadn’t seen the profile. Or even heard about it. “What else did it say?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t think it was that helpful, but then, they haven’t had much time. A loner. But most serial killers are loners. Because of his activities, he would most likely be a bachelor. A shoe’s been missing at each scene, so the killer must keep them as a memento. Maybe he raises the roses he leaves, but I think he buys them. It’s part of the game.”

  “
Game?”

  “Catch Me If You Can. He’s been accelerating his activities so the adrenaline is climbing, demanding more and more excitement, which means more and more risks.”

  “What about this suspect of yours? Does he own a house?”

  “Nope. He rents an apartment, and no, there’s not a garden. He’s not married, and he lives alone. He seems to have few friends.”

  “You know all this, and he’s not aware of it?”

  “We know how to do it. As far as he knows, we’re asking the same questions about everyone.”

  “But if he has a record, wouldn’t he think he would be singled out?”

  “Ever think about going into police work?”

  She liked the glimmer of respect in his eyes. “Nope.”

  “Just as well,” he said. “You’re too pretty. All the perps would fall in love with you and surrender and make the rest of us look bad.”

  She swallowed hard. She’d been told before that she was pretty, and in far more eloquent terms. But never had it sounded quite so good before.

  Then the smile left his eyes. “His record was a long time ago in another state.”

  “Do you really think he might try to come to the press conference?”

  “I don’t know. We’re not even sure this is the guy. But he fits what you told us. About the right size and weight. As an orderly, he comes into contact with cleaning fluids, other chemicals. He was off the nights of the attacks. Except for the one at my house.”

  “And that really didn’t fit his pattern,” she said. “I heard you and Manny talk about it.”

  “No,” he said. “As far as we know, he hasn’t used a gun before. Nor has he committed arson.”

  He went over and turned up the stereo again. The strains of an aria emerged loud and pure. He held out his hand. She took it, and they walked together to the sofa and sat. He didn’t make a movement toward her. Nor she toward him.

  It was enough, for now, to be together.

  And to forget about tomorrow.

  The drive to Atlanta the next morning was agonizing.

  Each mile they traveled was one less moment left with Marise. It was Monday. She’d made it clear she would leave no later than Thursday morning.

  Three days to catch a killer. And Cassidy might well be off the case. He planned to tell Haynes today that he’d become emotionally involved with a witness. He’d always been honest with his superiors. He didn’t plan to break that particular rule.

  But though he was in turmoil, she looked serene, as if she were going to church rather than to face ravenous reporters and possibly a killer. If she was nervous, she showed no sign of it. She was uncanny that way.

  Manny chatted away in the back seat. He was still basking in his success. He’d caught two fish yesterday. “Captain will have a new location for you today,” he said.

  “Not unless you two are there,” she said.

  “That’s not our call,” Cassidy said.

  “It’s mine,” she said.

  It wasn’t, but he was not going to debate that with her.

  They had left the cabin at six, thirty minutes after he had prowled around the area one last time. No red boat. No new footprints. Just dew and the first streams of an early morning sun gilding the water.

  She had looked out at it as they left the house. “So peaceful,” she said with a certain awe. “I think I could stay here forever.”

  He knew he could.

  But then they had to leave, and he watched her look down at the boathouse regretfully. They never did take that ride. But that boathouse would always hold exquisite memories for him.

  She said very little on the way back to Atlanta. Instead, she looked out the window, and he could almost see her drinking it all in. She was such a mixture of assurance and wistfulness. Sometimes, he thought nothing would startle her. And at other times that everything was new and exciting to her.

  “Joey won in her class last night,” Manny said. There was regret in his voice.

  “I’m sorry you missed it,” Marise said. “I would have liked to see her, too.”

  “Maybe sometime when you’re back here,” he said. “Janie taped it. Joey wants to be a professional skater.”

  “It probably means going away to a training facility,” Marise said.

  Cassidy looked in the rearview mirror at Manny’s face. No way was his daughter going away from home. Scratch one skating career.

  “Let her skate for fun and see what happens,” Marise said, looking back at him. “Most competitive skaters absolutely love it but not many have the discipline to make it a career. It isn’t a normal life for a child.”

  “Most,” Cassidy said. “Does that include you?”

  She looked at him for a moment. “Yes,” she said finally.

  He didn’t believe it. Maybe because he didn’t want to. But it wasn’t his business. It was her career, her life, her decisions. He was a big believer in that.

  He stopped at a restaurant for breakfast. It was one he knew well. One of those old-fashioned establishments with real grits and country ham and redeye gravy and bottomless cups of coffee.

  Everyone looked at Marise as she walked in, but Cassidy was becoming used to that by now. She’d dressed for the news conference in skirt and blouse and sweater. Ordinary clothes for almost anyone else, but on her they looked spectacular. He still didn’t understand how someone who looked so lovely could be so down-to-earth, so unaffected, so unaware of her own impact on others.

  “What do you suggest?” she asked.

  “You don’t want to know,” Manny interjected.

  “Country ham, redeye gravy, grits and eggs,” Cassidy said.

  She looked to Manny for help. “Any other suggestions?”

  “Country ham, redeye gravy, grits and eggs,” he said, “and I know you’re not going to ask me the same question you asked Hoppy.”

  She looked indecisive, then grinned. “Make it three of them,” she said.

  She looked like a kid who was stealing a cookie from a forbidden jar, joyous in the immediate reward but a little apprehensive about the consequences.

  Though she obviously liked the food, she ate only a small portion. MacKay found his own appetite suddenly waning. They were on the road again within thirty minutes.

  Half an hour later, they drove up to the hospital. Television trucks were already parked in the parking lot. Reporters were gathered at the doors, waiting. Cassidy pulled around to a side entrance, and Manny and she went inside while he parked the car.

  When he found them, they had been joined by a security guard. “I’ll take you to the room,” said the guard. “We’re trying to keep the reporters in the lobby or at the entrance.” Like the customers in the restaurant, the guard seemed unable to take his eyes from Marise. He stopped and thrust a piece of paper at her. “For my daughter.” It was half plea, half explanation.

  “Of course,” she said, taking it. “What’s her name?”

  “Jennifer. But everyone calls her Jenny.”

  Cassidy watched as she scribbled down something and handed it to the beaming guard.

  Then Cassidy put a hand to her back, and they headed down the hall to a large meeting room. Television cameras had been erected both inside and outside. The ones outside were roving back and forth to catch anyone walking down the halls.

  Captain Haynes was inside the room, as were two plainclothes detectives, several officers in uniform and three people in jeans manning the television cameras. A podium with microphone had been placed at the front of the room.

  Haynes came up to her. “Thank you for all your assistance,” he said.

  “You’re welcome, though it hasn’t seemed to do a lot of good yet.”

  “Maybe we’ll have some luck today.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  “I thought I would call him a coward, maybe something a little stronger.”

  Haynes looked at Cassidy. “I like this girl
.”

  She wasn’t exactly a girl, and Cassidy saw a small tightening of her lips, something he doubted the captain noticed.

  “Miss Merrick is rare,” he said quietly.

  The captain shot a glance at him, then turned back to Marise. “We have plenty of protection for you here, and I’ve found a safe house for you. We’ll add a couple of men to the detail.”

  “I only have a few more days,” she said.

  “Detective MacKay has made us aware of that.”

  She didn’t look at Cassidy. Cassidy didn’t look at her. Manny looked at both of them and sighed.

  The captain glanced at his watch. “We have twenty minutes to go.”

  “Do you have any more information?” she asked.

  “We have a great deal of information. No proof.”

  “Are you going to question the man you suspect?”

  “This afternoon, whether or not he shows up here. We’re having him followed.”

  There was a knock on the door. Several men in suits entered. One was the public information officer for the hospital, the other, the administrator. It was obvious they were not altogether pleased about the press conference, or the idea that one of their employees could be a serial killer. But in seconds, Marise had charmed them both, thanking them for letting her use their facilities and for the wonderful care she’d received as a patient.

  Manny shrugged his shoulders, as Cassidy threw him a wry frown.

  In these few moments, Cassidy didn’t have a chance to talk to Haynes. At least, that’s what he told himself.

  He waited by the door, his pistol hidden by a sports jacket, as more people entered the room.

  Marise went up to the podium where more radio and television microphones were tied to the hospital one. She had to lower them for her height. Then she went through the testing routine. Her voice, soft at first, seemed to grow stronger. She radiated confidence.

  But as he looked into her eyes, he thought he saw something no one else saw. She wasn’t as sure of herself as she wanted him, and everyone else, to think. He wished he could be there with her, standing beside her. Instead he winked at her.

  She winked back and threw him a grateful smile.