Marise felt sick. She was way out of her depth. She wanted to twist around and touch the pistol for reassurance, but that wouldn’t do.
“Are you alone, Marise?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think I believe you.”
She had no answer to that. She knew there was such a thing as protesting too much.
“Did you tell anyone I wanted to see you skate?”
“No. I was afraid you would hurt the child.”
“Smart lady. Do you have a phone with you?”
She hesitated.
“Don’t lie to me, or your friend will die.”
“Yes.”
“Leave it on the ledge beneath the pay phone.”
She didn’t know if he was watching. She hesitated. “Not until I hear Joey’s voice.”
“She’s sleeping.”
Apprehension crept down her spine.
“Oh, she still lives. But she’s tucked in a safe place. At least, safe if I get back in time.”
“What do you want?”
“I told you. I want to see you skate. For me. Just for me.”
“Where?”
“A place called the Ice Chalet.”
“I…I don’t have a car.”
“That’s all right. I’ve called a cab. It should be there any moment.”
“I don’t have any money.”
“There’s a fifty-dollar bill taped under the ledge. Now, aren’t you impressed with my planning?”
She’d read a lot, but she’d always avoided serial killer books. Any and all of them. She had no idea what to say. To goad, to pacify, to flatter or admire. Why had she started this? Why hadn’t she waited for Cassidy?
Because the killer wouldn’t wait. Because being trailed by a mob of people would mean Joey’s death.
A cab to an ice rink. How much more bizarre—sick—could this get? Or would he be the cabdriver? Driving a cab she might never leave? Yet she had no choice. “I don’t have skates or anything to wear—”
“What you are wearing now is fine, and you can rent skates. I want you to do those spins, and a double axel and one of those triple lutz.”
He’d been reading. But not enough. She suspected he wouldn’t know a triple lutz if he saw one. But he wanted to control her, make her do his bidding because she had humiliated him. She understood that.
She also knew he would be at the rink. If she could contact the police, then they would have him. Her taunt earlier in the day had produced results. But would she and Joey live through them?
The pistol she’d so resisted touching felt good in the small of her back.
Hope started swirling inside her.
Just then a cab drove up. She looked around. Had anyone found her message yet?
She glanced at the cabbie. He was a young black man. Music blared from the radio. She felt momentary relief.
“You the one going to the skating rink?” he asked.
She’d made her decision. “Yes.”
Cassidy’s phone rang.
“We have a possible,” Haynes said. “We’ve sent some detectives to question him.”
Cassidy broke in. “We’ve lost Marise Merrick.”
“Lost? How in the hell did you lose her?”
“She apparently received a phone call, and our perp threatened to kill Joey.”
“And everyone just sat around and watched her stroll out?”
“No one saw her go.”
“A houseful of detectives and no one saw her leave?”
Cassidy knew it sounded ridiculous, but didn’t respond to that. “We have a lead. She said he wants to see her skate. We need people at every skating rink in metro Atlanta.”
“I’ll get them there. What about you?”
“I’m going to the nearest one…Ice Chalet. Manny’s daughter skates there.”
“I’ll send squad cars.”
“Better send undercover people.”
Cassidy hung up and stepped on the gas. He used his police light as he threaded through traffic, his heart pounding. Haynes said they had a possible—a suspect—but not in custody. And now Marise was in terrible danger. She was his first priority.
Dammit, he should never have let her out of his sight. He should have known she would follow her heart rather than…
Gallant. That was the only word for her.
And foolish, thinking she could somehow trap a killer who had already eluded the police over and over again.
Ten minutes. Fifteen. Then he squealed up to the building. The parking lot was full. He wheeled in, parked on a grassy spot, ran inside. His gaze took in everything. Onlookers standing around or sitting in a small stand on the other side of the rink.
He saw her. She was just entering the rink, anonymous in her jeans and shirt.
He breathed easier. He was in time. He watched as Marise skated around the ice. Her own gaze roamed. He knew it the moment she saw him. Her eyes widened but she continued as if she didn’t see him.
He forced his eyes away from her. He studied every man in the building. Some looked like doting fathers. Some looked impatient. A few young guys watched young girls. Boyfriends?
No one looked suspicious. If their suspect was here, he was a chameleon.
Cassidy turned back to the ice. Skaters were moving to the side, as she spun, then did a leap of some kind. Everyone’s eyes were on her as she skated and whirled and jumped. He had never seen anything so graceful, so completely perfect.
She looked as if she were skating for her life.
For Joey’s life.
She completed her routine and came to a stop. Her eyes met his, panicked.
Then he saw several couples entering the building that he recognized. Detectives. Without being obvious, they stationed themselves at the exits. He doubted that anyone else noticed.
He held out his hand. Marise skated over to him and took it, as applause echoed throughout the rink. Then slowly, the other skaters returned to the ice.
Cassidy held her hand tightly. “Don’t ever do that again.”
“Do you think he’s here?”
“No,” he said.
“Then, why?”
His eyes feasted on her. Her fingers had wound around his, holding tight. For a moment, time stopped. His relief was so profound, his heart beating so hard, his senses so impacted that he felt paralyzed.
A shout at the door. He wanted to go over there, but he wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. He wasn’t going to leave her.
As if she read his mind, she disengaged her hand and skated over to an exit. Quickly, she untied the skates and stepped out of them. In socks, she took his hand and together they ran over to the door.
A man was bending over a child who had been placed on a bench. Another man, a girl of about six at his side, was standing toward the end of the bench. Other patrons had started to gather around.
Joey. Even as his hand held on to Marise’s, Cassidy leaned down and touched her face. It was warm. He could hear her soft breathing. Relief flooded him.
“How is she?” he asked the man kneeling beside her, doing all the things that a doctor did.
The man looked at him. “Her heartbeat is a little slow but regular. I think she has been drugged. Do you know her?”
“Yes,” Cassidy said. “She’s my godchild.” He touched her forehead, pushing back her bangs. For the second time in minutes, he said a prayer of thanks.
He stood up and showed his badge. “Does anyone here know what happened?”
“Theresa found her in the back seat of my car,” said the man with the small girl. “I thought she might just have just gotten tired, found an unlocked car and crawled in.”
Drugged. The killer was telling them that he could reach Marise anywhere. Any time.
Her fingers tightened around his. She had obviously reached the same conclusion.
But something else was more important at the moment. He extracted his fingers and reached for his cell phone and called Manny. “Sh
e’s safe. We have her. She was drugged but apparently nothing worse.”
He heard Manny’s prayerful “Thank God.”
“Hold on,” Cassidy said. He looked down at the man kneeling next to Joey. “You are…”
“Dr. Al Markum,” he said.
“Can you talk to her father?”
The doctor took the phone. “An ambulance has been called,” he said. “She’ll go to City Hospital.”
After a few seconds, Cassidy heard the doctor reply, “You’re welcome. I’ll stay with her.” He hung up.
Then came sirens. Med techs came running in, received information from the doctor, did their own brief examination, then loaded Joey on a stretcher.
“We should go with her,” Marise said. “If she wakes…”
He agreed. His badge would get them on board. He was not going to leave Marise alone again. But first he talked to the other officers. They were to check everyone who left the rink. Not, he thought, that they would find anything. He doubted the killer had ever come inside.
He looked at Marise and thought he had never seen anything so beautiful. It wasn’t just the surface beauty that was astonishing but the character that lay beneath it. The compassion, the courage.
She ran and retrieved her shoes, then joined him at the ambulance. She climbed up, shoes in her hand, and he followed, both of them retreating to a corner, as the technicians busied themselves over Joey’s still inert body.
The call came late that night at Cassidy’s house. A voice, again electronically masked, asked for Marise.
She was awake, drinking coffee, relating everything that had happened for the fifth time. Manny and his wife were at the hospital. Security had been heightened. Two police cars were outside the front door. A team of officers patrolled the backyard.
Why, she wondered, hadn’t the killer tried to take her at the phone booth?
He probably wasn’t anywhere close, Cassidy had explained. He probably didn’t think she would go there alone.
That she would be foolish enough to do so. The unspoken words hung in the air. Cassidy had not been happy with her. That had been obvious on the trip to the hospital and back.
But the ringing of the phone shoved that thought away.
“Keep him talking as long as you can,” Cassidy said as he handed it to her. At least, it was tapped now.
“Did you like my little present?” the voice said.
“Yes,” she said. “Thank you.”
“I’m not interested in little girls. They are…innocent. Not like you. You use people. Then betray them. I know everything about bitches like you.” His words had taken on a wild tone, even through whatever he used to disguise them.
She didn’t say anything.
“I just wanted to let you know you were wrong. I am not a coward. And I can find you anyplace. Any time. You will be mine. I want you to think about that.”
The phone went dead.
She was supposed to be going home tomorrow. No, later today. It was close to dawn and she still hadn’t gotten any sleep.
She wondered whether she would ever sleep again.
Last evening had been analyzed, and analyzed again. There was a weird sense to it if you considered the acts had been committed by a madman.
She had taunted him. He was taunting her.
It was obvious to all that Joey had just been another opportunity. Unplanned. He’d probably been driving by in a car that looked like an unmarked police vehicle and saw her running between the houses.
Joey had remembered very little when she gained consciousness an hour after arriving at the hospital. She’d seen the car pass her, but had paid no attention to it. Suddenly she had been seized from behind, blindfolded and forced into a vehicle. It had been so quick.
A phone had been put to her mouth, and she was told to ask for her father. Instead, she’d recognized Cassidy’s voice. She knew she’d said something but didn’t remember what. Then she’d felt a sharp sting. That was the last she recalled.
Drugs again. Another link to the hospital.
The newest suspect had been off duty. He was reportedly taking an emergency medical leave because of an illness in the family. He had not been at home. Officers were doing an extensive background check. They’d already discovered that he had been a member of an auxiliary sheriff’s unit in Memphis. He would know police procedure. But he had no record of any kind.
The auxiliary element raised all sorts of flags, according to Cassidy. The suspect would know police calls, operation of a police radio, and more. He had been a lab technician in Atlanta for the past six years and had had the same job previously in Memphis. He had a good record at both jobs.
But he was also a bachelor and was considered to be a loner.
Cassidy believed he came closer to their profile than anyone else so far.
But their only real link was the man’s casual friendship with the first suspect. Not enough for a search warrant.
Detectives, though, had been dispatched to find him.
Marise had listened to it all. The voice on the phone, though, still chilled her through and through. She wondered whether the sound of it would ever fade from her mind.
She rose from the bar stool where she’d been sitting. Light was filtering through the windows. She was tired. But she had decisions to make.
The killer had made it clear that he intended to stalk her. She would be no more safe in Seattle than she would be here. And if she went, she could bring danger to her mother. And others. How could she forget the explosion? Or Joey?
They had been lucky. Joey could have died tonight. Would have, if the killer had not wanted to make a point.
Marise knew she represented something to the killer. She’d sat through several sessions with Cassidy about serial killers. Something set them off and they couldn’t stop killing, but the target usually represented something to them. A mother. A lover who had spurned him. A woman who had humiliated him.
Could she just return to her old life now? The Sectionals. Then to the condominium in California to prepare for the Nationals. And, hopefully, the Olympics and Worlds.
Would she always feel the rush of heat, the surge of gladness, the giddiness that flooded her when she thought of Cassidy? Could she ever tame her need for him? The craving that carved a great hole inside her when he wasn’t near?
She jerked herself back to reality. The important thing now was staying alive. And keeping those she cared about alive.
She had turned to the window to watch the first rays of dawn appear. She felt him behind her. The light lingering aroma of his aftershave, the electricity that always filled her at his nearness. There was an awareness between them. It was so sharp she didn’t have to see him, or hear him. She just felt him.
The kitchen was empty. One detective was asleep in the spare bedroom. One was watching through the window, although she knew there were two more officers outside. They weren’t going to let her sneak out again. She wondered how much grief they’d caught because she had managed it earlier.
“I said I would go back today,” she said.
Silence.
She turned. He was close. Close enough that she had to look up. “Advice?”
“I’m not sure I’m the one to come to for that. I’ve not done a very good job.”
“I haven’t helped.”
“No,” he admitted. “But because of you, Joey is back home.”
“She never would have been in danger if I hadn’t…mouthed off at the news conference.”
“You did what we asked you to do.”
She didn’t say anything. She no longer thought she knew the right thing to do. She’d been wrong since the beginning. Perhaps if she had gone to Seattle as her mother and Paul had wanted…
“Then, more women would be dead.”
It was uncanny. He seemed to know everything she was thinking.
“He isn’t going to stop,” Cassidy said. “He wasn’t going to stop. He has a taste now for blood and fear and
power. It becomes addictive.”
“What do we do?”
He was silent.
“I want to finish it,” she said with desperation. “I have to finish it.”
“We have a suspect,” he said.
“But you don’t have the evidence even for a search warrant. You don’t even know where he is. But he knows where I am.”
“We’re checking every drug cabinet he might have access to, every druggist in the vicinity. Something will turn up.”
“But that takes time. I don’t have time. I owe it to Paul…to my mother, to be in Seattle for the Sectional.”
“It’s that important?” he asked gruffly.
Her eyes met his steadily. “We have to place there to make the Nationals,” she said. “The Nationals decide who goes to the Olympics. And the Worlds.”
“The Worlds?”
“The World Championship.” She heard the urgency in her own voice. She had to give Paul his chance. Her mother her dream.
“Is it worth your life?” he asked quietly.
Was it? No doubt Cassidy wouldn’t think so. But she couldn’t put her life, her career—Paul’s life and career—on hold indefinitely. She couldn’t hide for a month, a year, forever.
She wouldn’t hide.
She saw the frustration on his face. She knew the same expression must be on hers. She knew all the reasoning on both sides.
He reached out and took her hand, pulling her close to him. She didn’t realize her hand was cold until she felt the warmth of his. She leaned against him, seeping up the heat from his body.
Then he led her to her room. They passed the detective named Britt, who kept his eyes trained on the view outside the window. So many people to guard her. Six in all at the moment. Even if she stayed here, how much longer could she expect the police department to keep these men with her?
Cassidy opened the door and released her hand, standing back to let her enter.
“I don’t want to be alone,” she said.
“You need some rest.”
“So do you.” She saw the exhaustion in his face, the new trails in the contours of his face. She didn’t think some of them had been there yesterday. Her hand went up, and her fingers ran over those small lines snaking out from his eyes.
Cassidy and the Princess Page 22
