Silence.
“We’ll bring in Norris and question him. Maybe we’ll get lucky. MacKay, I want you there. You know more about this case than anyone.”
Cassidy hesitated. He didn’t like being away from Marise. But Manny would be there. Dan and Britt were also good men. And it shouldn’t be for more than a few hours. He would get a sense quickly whether Norris was their man, whether or not they could get the evidence needed to indict him, or even to obtain a search warrant. They certainly didn’t have it yet.
And he was having second thoughts about returning to his home. Still, it had all the advantages it had before, and now the neighborhood would be far more alert. They would be on the lookout next time.
Was it Marise or instinct that unsettled him?
“Norris is at the hospital,” Haynes said. “Sarah, you and Rich pick him up. I want MacKay to watch him for a while before going in the interview room. Let’s just hope he doesn’t have a lawyer.”
“If he’s our man, he’ll sure request his rights.”
“Then, we’ll know,” Haynes said. “MacKay, come into my office.”
Cassidy followed him inside.
“Maybe we can get this wrapped up tonight,” Haynes said.
“I don’t believe in that kind of gift,” Cassidy said. “I read the stuff on Norris. Other than being a loner and the lone conviction, nothing else fits. He’s not bright enough to be our guy.”
“This is one time I hope you’re wrong.”
“Me, too,” Cassidy said as he restlessly paced the office. “But I think we should make copies of the picture of the man that Marise pointed out, and have our people check the hospital.”
“We’re doing that now.”
“He’s the right height. Wrong color hair, though. She’d said she thought it was dark.” Cassidy knew he was babbling like a rookie. He couldn’t suppress the worry clamoring inside him. Even the rising panic. It wasn’t a good idea for Marise to return to his house. He wished now he’d vetoed it.
He kept telling himself that Manny wouldn’t let anything happen to her, wouldn’t take any chances.
The captain was watching him.
“Is there anything more you want to tell me?” Haynes said.
“No,” Cassidy said. He was confused by the way Haynes phrased the question. It left him an out without lying. So for one of the first times in his life he skimmed over the truth.
He just didn’t trust anyone else with Marise’s safety. The killer was extraordinarily shrewd and clever, and obviously familiar with police work.
“Have we checked to see whether any of the hospital employees has ever had police training?” he asked.
“No,” Haynes said. “We were searching for criminal records.”
“Let’s add that search,” he said. “Also whether they had any connection with a police department in the past. Could be in Information Services.”
Haynes picked up the phone and added that search to the list of hospital employees.
“Nothing among our own?”
Haynes shook his head. “We’ve fine-combed the records, particularly those who have joined the department the past two years. Nothing in their pasts. We deleted those who were on duty in other parts of the city during the time of the attacks. We’re asking the others for alibis, but no one believes anything will show up there.”
“That brings us back to the hospital.”
“We’ve found a few criminal records but, other than Norris, nothing in the sex offender area. Most happened years ago, and the hospital authorities were aware of them.”
“So we’re back to Norris.”
“And the mystery man on the tape.”
Haynes hesitated, then asked, “What does your gut tell you?”
“That Norris isn’t our man.”
“It’ll be interesting if you feel that way after we question him.”
Despite the violence that had occurred in Cassidy’s house just days earlier, Marise felt comfortable. His presence was everywhere.
Manny told her to keep away from the windows, and the new detective looked through the house. They checked the telephone for listening devices.
Routine, they told her.
It wasn’t routine to her.
She knew she should call Seattle. Her mother would be frantic. So would Paul.
She finally lifted the telephone and dialed her mother’s cell phone.
Cara Merrick answered on the first ring.
“Thank God,” she said. “I’ve been trying to reach you for hours. Your cell phone’s been off. We’ve been inundated by the press. It’s really terrific publicity. I’m getting calls from everyone. Especially from promoters and prospective sponsors. They are very interested in you and Paul. One’s even talking about a television special.”
Marise stood there stunned. She had expected censure. Disapproval. Worry.
It took her a moment to adjust. She should have realized. Her career had always been her mother’s principle concern.
“I have plenty of protection,” she announced coolly.
There was a pause. Then, in a less exuberant voice, her mother asked, “You are all right? I was assured…”
“Yes,” she said, telling herself not to feel guilty. She was tired of feeling guilty.
“Are you still going to be here Thursday?”
“Yes,” Marise said. “I’ve already told everyone—”
“I’ll set a press conference for seven that evening,” her mother said. “Make sure you’re here by then.”
Rebellion started to foment inside Marise. “You had better wait on that,” she said. “And Mother, tell Paul to stop telling people we are engaged. We’re not. We never will be.”
There was a pause, then her mother said, “I think you had better tell him that yourself, Marise.”
“I’ll do that,” she said, and softly replaced the phone in the cradle. Grief and anger both cut her with their sharp edges. She felt like an object to be sold. There had been no questions about how she felt. Whether she was in danger.
She had worried about them flying down to be at her side. Now, conversely, she was hurt that her mother, at least, had no intention of doing so. It didn’t make sense, and she wondered whether it was due to her bewildering emotions. Or perhaps that was always a part of letting go of a substantial part of your life. A divorce must always be a combination of hurt and anger and relief.
What she was contemplating could be construed as a divorce.
She went to her room and looked at the cell phone she’d left at Cassidy’s home. She turned it on and returned to the living room, stopping at the photos. None of Cassidy. None of his former wife. She wondered—and not for the first time—what she was like. And how she could possibly leave someone like Cassidy MacKay.
Cassidy was so easy to be with.
He was also in a dangerous line of work. Could she sit night after night wondering whether he would come home? Whether she might get a phone call or a visit from the captain, the way Sam’s wife had?
Were the emotions, the feelings, she had with him—the extraordinary bond that seemed to link them—worth the agony of loss?
But then, she was only supposing. He’d never mentioned love. Never mentioned permanence.
The phone rang, and Manny picked it up.
She saw the concern that etched his face as he listened. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Maybe tomorrow.” He hung up. “Joey saw you arrive. She wondered if she could come over with my wife. She’s bringing some food.”
“There’s no school?”
“It’s teacher’s day. They have meetings at the school.”
“I would love to see her,” Marise said. She’d really liked the precocious little girl who was so full of questions.
Manny frowned.
She suddenly understood. “You think…”
“I just think it’s better that Joey stay away.”
Her stomach churned. “Of course,” she said.
&n
bsp; “My wife, though, is going to bring over dinner. Joey will stay with a neighbor.”
Marise hadn’t realized how hungry she was. “But is it safe for her?”
“She’ll just be here a moment. And she’ll be in sight of our watchers most of the way.”
Marise wanted to go to the window and watch. She wondered whether she could ever look out a window again without flinching. The anger she’d felt earlier at the press conference started building again.
No one had the right to deprive someone else of such a simple pleasure.
“How did you meet?” she asked Manny.
“High school sweethearts,” he said. “Neither of us ever dated anyone else. We got married right after graduation.”
“Was it hard?”
He shrugged. “At first. I always wanted to be a policeman, but I was too young. I went to Georgia State to study criminology, and we both worked. She has a real head for figures. She quit when we had Joey but she still does some accounting and taxes for small businesses. And members of the police department,” he added.
She sounded like super woman to Marise. Good wife, good cook, good mother. Marise felt a sudden stab of envy.
She was a terrible cook, and she had neither home nor children. Nor someone to love and to love her.
She went to the compact disc player and looked through his selection. She’d thought Manny might have been kidding the other day when he’d said Cassidy liked opera. It was obvious from his collection that he did. And jazz. Both traditional and progressive. Easy listening. Classical. Some Irish music: jigs and folk songs. Even some Irish drinking songs.
A man of many tastes, just as he was of many skills. He would never be boring.
She smiled at the thought.
The doorbell rang and Manny answered it.
Janie Sharman smiled at her as she handed a dish to Manny. “I wanted to thank you. Joey was thrilled about your giving her your number. She’s promised not to abuse it, but she’s written it down in several places and carries it with her wherever she goes. A real bragging point.”
“And I’m glad to get the chance to thank you for the spaghetti the other night.”
“They’ve been starving you, huh?”
“Not exactly. Chili dogs, pizzas and…”
“Corn beef hash, I know. Typical male last resort. I brought some lasagna and salad.”
Marise saw more calories coming. At this rate, Paul wouldn’t want her as a partner. He wouldn’t be able to lift her.
But she was hungry. She hadn’t had anything since breakfast this morning. “Thank you. It smells wonderful.”
“Where’s Cass?”
“Down at headquarters,” Manny said, returning from the kitchen. “He’ll be back later.”
“I saw you on television. You were great.”
“I was angry.”
“I could tell,” Janie said. “I understand how you got the best of him. At first, you looked so small…” She looked down at her own body with a regretful expression on her face. She was plump but pleasantly so, and had a pretty face and lovely, calm gray eyes.
“I’m a lot stronger than I look,” Marise said. “I have to know how to move fast.”
“Well, I hope you find him.” She paused, then said. “I have to go back home. I have a costume I’m working on.”
“For Joey?”
“Yes.”
“I would like to see it. And Joey. She’s a joy.”
“Just don’t let her hear you say that,” Janie said with a chuckle. “You’ll never get rid of her.”
“Oh, I’m not worried,” Marise said. In fact, she thought it was exactly what she needed. She didn’t want to think about this morning, or roses, or killers.
Janie had reached the door. Marise saw her gratitude. But it wasn’t Janie who should be grateful. It was Marise.
Normalcy.
What a nice thought.
Chapter 16
The lasagna and salad were wonderful. Marise and Manny ate together with one of the other officers, and she thought it was so good it was sinful. Another couple of pounds she would have to work off.
For a moment she thought wistfully of running, but after the other morning, that was out of the question. Other exercises would have to do, instead.
When they finished eating, they went back into the living room.
Her cell phone rang.
“Hi,” Joey said.
“Hi,” she replied.
“I wanted to come over and see you but Daddy said I shouldn’t.” She sounded immensely grown up.
“Your daddy is right. But I’ll see you soon.”
“I won a gold medal last night. I wanted to show it to you.”
“That’s wonderful,” Marise said, truly pleased. “I wish I’d been there.”
“I want to be in the Olympics,” Joey said.
Marise tried to be as honest as she could. “It means giving up a lot. Your family life is disrupted. You need the right coach and have to move to his training facility. You practice for hours every morning and afternoon between school work. You have to watch your diet.”
“Dad would never let me move somewhere without him,” Joey said.
“And that is a good thing,” Marise said. “I would trade my career for a dad like that any day.”
“What happened to your dad?”
“He was killed in an automobile accident when I was very young. So was my brother,” she said. Strangely enough, the words came more easily. More matter-of-fact. Yet she knew the dark guilt still lay in waiting, deep chasms that continued to haunt her. She wondered whether they would ever go away. Whether the sickening dread that always accompanied memories or reminders would ever recede.
“I still think it would be awesome to go to the Olympics.”
“I think it would be awesome, too,” Marise said.
“I hope you win.”
“Hey, I haven’t even qualified yet.”
“But you will,” Joey said with the confidence of the young and untried. “Can I call you when you win the Nationals?”
“Of course. You can call me any time now that you have the number.”
A pause. Then she asked, “Do you ever fall?”
“Oh, yes,” Marise replied. “Four years ago, Paul and I medaled in the Nationals and were practicing for the Olympics. A rough piece of ice threw him off balance and I started to fall. He tried to protect me and fell himself, injuring his ankle. We had to withdraw. So this one is very important to him.”
“To you, too?” Joey asked, sounding curious.
The girl was intuitive. Too intuitive. But it was important to her. Not as important as to Paul. But important. She told herself that. But then, why did she feel she would miss this more. This. Home. Family.
“Me, too,” she assured her.
“What countries have you competed in?” Joey asked.
“Japan. France. Germany. Hungary. Norway. Russia. Canada.”
“That must be wonderful,” Joey said.
“There’s not much time for sight-seeing.” That had always been another of her regrets: never having time to explore the wide boulevards or eat in small cafés, or taste the chocolates or freshly cooked pastries and loaves of bread hot from the oven.
From the time her father died, and her mother had started pouring all her emotional and financial resources into Marise’s career, she had felt obligated to succeed. To never miss a moment when she could be practicing, to watch her diet, to make up for her mother’s losses, to catch that brass ring that had eluded her parents but which had continued to be their life’s goal through their children.
Marise tried to wipe away the sudden melancholy. She’d had an extraordinary life and extraordinary experiences. And she did love skating. When it went well, there was a joy and exultation that little could equal. The outburst of spontaneous applause, Paul’s hug when they completed a flawless program…all moments to cherish. Then, why was she so restless?
“Daddy taped
one of my competitions. Maybe you can look at it and tell me what I’ve done wrong.”
“I would love to.”
“That’s cool,” Joey said. “Well, I should go…”
Marise smiled to herself as she said goodbye.
She went into the kitchen. Manny was reading a newspaper. “I just talked to Joey. She’s still determined to be a skater.”
Manny looked up and grinned. “A few months ago she wanted to be a doctor, and before that a policeman.” He paused. “Did you ever want to be anything other than a skater?”
She sat down in a chair. “Oh, I wanted to be an orchestra conductor, a cowgirl, even a teacher.”
They settled into an easy conversation. She wondered where Cassidy was, particularly as minutes turned into an hour.
Cassidy’s phone rang, and Manny picked it up. She watched as his face paled. He hung up.
“Joey’s missing,” he said.
Norris wasn’t their guy.
Cassidy had known it almost immediately. He’d stood outside the interview room, watching through the one way window.
Norris wasn’t smart enough, or clever enough, or savvy enough. He had a dazed look after being confronted at the hospital, and had meekly agreed to come downtown. He hadn’t even asked for an attorney.
He had reluctantly admitted to being a convicted sex offender, and had looked completely horrified at the thought of being considered a possible suspect in the Rose Murder case. He’d readily agreed to having his apartment searched, and said he’d never been anywhere near the hospital that morning.
He just wanted to live a normal life, he kept saying as tears welled in his eyes. He was terrified of losing his job.
Cassidy went into the room and played the role of a bully. He usually did it well, but now he felt like someone kicking a puppy. He didn’t like sex offenders, but for some reason this guy really did seem as if he was trying to get his life on track.
He left the room and talked to Haynes. “He’s not our man.”
“You sure?”
“I’m never sure about anything. But I would bet my house on it.”
Haynes shook his head in disgust. “What now?”
“Let’s look at everyone who knows Norris. He probably has a small circle of acquaintances.”
Cassidy and the Princess Page 20
