His Frozen Heart

by Nancy Straight

  Dave’s voice was disappointed. “You don’t have to. I don’t need it. I’ve got a car I can drive.”

  The car he had brought to my house earlier today was still parked in front of my house. How many cars did he have? Trying to make sure he understood the only reason I wasn’t returning to his place was that I couldn’t leave Mrs. Bavcock alone, I said, “She needs me.”

  “I understand,” although from his defeated tone, he didn’t.

  I cupped my hand over the phone so I wasn’t sharing this with all of the people now standing within ear shot of me. “I want to see you. That conversation you started on the stairs, I had a few things I wanted to add.”

  Another sigh sounded in my ear. “The garage is open at eight.”

  Mischievously I answered, “So expect me at seven.”

  He gave me his cell phone number before I hung up, and I felt unforeseen butterflies taking flight in my stomach. His kiss had been unexpected, both of them, although the first one probably didn’t count. Lying in the snow with his weight on top of me and his lips finding mine had been his way of keeping me from screaming for help. An enormous smile grew as I thought of how he had completely disarmed me. The second kiss was different, very different. It also disarmed me, but in a sensory overload sort of way. I thought of nothing beyond the sensations in the moment – as if the rest of the world would have to get along without us for a while.

  A policeman approached while I was still reliving the moment with Dave in my mind. I probably looked like a dork standing with my phone in one hand, wearing a dazed look I was sure any passerby could see. The policeman was a little overweight, or maybe he had washed his uniform in hot water; regardless, it didn’t seem to fit. He nodded in my direction, “Miss Kane?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mrs. Bavcock indicated you called this in tonight.”

  Cautious with my answer, given the circumstances in the last twenty-four hours, “Yes.”

  “She also says you will be staying with her this evening?”

  “Yes.”

  Narrowing his eyes at me, he asked, “What is your relationship to Mrs. Bavcock?”

  I looked in the old woman’s direction. “No relation, we’re neighbors.”

  “The Sergeant’s log says we responded to a disturbance at your place this morning.” He motioned to my house directly across the street with wide bright yellow caution tape across the door.

  A disturbance? Which one? “Right. The same guy who broke into Mrs. B’s house tonight had been in my house this morning before I got home. A friend chased the guy out of my house and down the street.”

  The policeman looked down at his notes. When he did, a bald spot on the top of his head leered at me. “That friend of yours is a suspect. His name is David Brewer. Were you aware he escaped our custody earlier today?”

  Now was my chance to get things cleared up for Dave. “Yes, Officer Bivens told me. But I don’t want to press trespassing charges or anything against him. Dave was just worried about me.”

  The middle-aged police officer furrowed his brow, “You want to drop your charges against him? The report says he and the suspect who just did a home invasion on your neighbor are friends. Besides, trespassing is the least of his worries. He’s looking at an assault charge.”

  “Assault? He didn’t even talk to Mrs. Bavcock or me this morning.”

  “No, but the officer who escorted him to the hospital was assaulted when Mr. Brewer escaped custody.”

  I hadn’t bothered to ask Dave how he got away. I figured someone turned their head and he ran. This was going to get ugly fast. Maybe if I could make the police officer understand that he shouldn’t have been in custody to begin with, the other charge might go away, too. “They’re not friends. Dave’s brother might know the guy who broke into Mrs. Bavcock’s house tonight and mine this morning.”

  “Who is his brother?”

  “I’ve only met him once: his name’s Mark. The guy who broke into my house mistook Dave for Mark, and I didn’t know Dave had a brother until he told me.”

  The policeman shook his head as if my words were spoken in another language. “So you’ve spoken with Mr. Brewer since he escaped custody?”

  Crap. Me and my big mouth. His expression was all business as he waited for my answer, “Yes. I saw him at the hospital this afternoon when I went to check on my roommate who had been attacked by the same guy you’re looking for now.”

  He answered in a condescending way, “Mr. Brewer is a fugitive.”

  “That was my mistake earlier. How do I officially drop the charges?”

  “You can fill out some paperwork at the station, but he’s a person of interest in several crimes.” The pen in his hand pointed at Dave’s truck which I had left up the street, “I couldn’t help but notice that vehicle is registered to Mr. Brewer. When did you borrow his truck? Is it safe to assume he is in the area, too?”

  Double crap. “Um, he’s not here. I just came here to check on Mrs. B.” Several crimes? Could this be true? I couldn’t get involved with a criminal, no matter how good a kisser he may be.

  As I began to walk away from the astute police officer, he reached out and stopped me, “You, Miss Kane, are a person of interest, as well.”

  “What?!” My temper flared, “Are you nuts?” How could they think I had anything to do with shooting myself, attacking my roommate, or trespassing in my own house?

  “You have to admit it looks a little suspicious. Your roommate is attacked in a house that is rented by you. Shortly after the attack, someone robs you, who you yourself told the police you owed money to. You paid that debt with your employer’s money.”

  “I didn’t owe the guy anything!”

  “As I understand, you and your roommate were involved in illegal gambling activities, and the man wanted his money back. Who could blame him? He fired at you through bullet-proof glass, so you were in no danger. Why would you give him money from the register if he couldn’t harm you?”

  Fully on the defense now, I answered, “I was scared. I don’t imagine he knew I was standing behind bullet-proof glass.”

  “Maybe not, but don’t you think he would have figured it out after the first shot? Why would he keep shooting if it weren’t for show?”

  “Your theory sucks. Maybe he was trying to scare me. I pressed the silent alarm before he pulled out his gun. The police were already en route.”

  “Right again, you pressed the alarm because he was loitering by the bathroom. Are you sure this isn’t some sort of scheme you had cooked up that has gone bad, and you don’t know how to get out of it?”

  “No! My roommate is in a drug-induced coma right now. Her doctor put her there because her brain is bruised. She’s my best friend. I didn’t have anything to do with any of this.”

  “Yet, you know the shooter.”

  “No, I don’t know the shooter.”

  “My mistake, your boyfriend knows the shooter.”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend! Dave Brewer is a friend, and it’s his brother Mark who may know the shooter.”

  “Ah, yes, the mystery Mark. You just learned of his existence today? Convenient story. You return to your home and that same shooter, who you allege robbed you, was waiting in your house with one of your friends.”

  “Dave wasn’t waiting in my house with him. Ask Mrs. B. He got here after I did this morning.”

  He scribbled illegible notes on his pad. I felt the watchful eyes of my neighbors gathered on the sidewalk now hanging on his every word. “You have an answer for everything, don’t you, Miss Kane? So tell me: you are supposed to spend the night with a neighbor, but at the last minute you decide to stay elsewhere. Yet the man you have convinced the entire police force is pursuing you, is in your neighbor’s house where you are supposed to be. Somehow, you know he’s there, yet the patrolman stationed on your street is unaware. Have I missed anything?”

  I was at a loss for words. I felt the heavy stares of my neighbors. Their whispers fr
om the sidewalk were angry. They were angry and now all questioned my role in all the awful things that had happened. The policeman, too, noticed the mob of neighbors standing on the sidewalk. He asked, “So how did you know the shooter was threatening Mrs. Bavcock’s safety this evening?”

  My voice was meek, absent the earlier fury, “I called her and she told me.”

  He began scribbling again. “She told you the shooter was in her house?”

  “No. I mean, yes. She didn’t come right out and say he was there. I heard a cat hissing while I was on the phone with her.”

  The policeman actually smiled at me like we were playing some stupid game, and he was about to say “checkmate.” “You’re telling me her cat told you there was an intruder in the house?”

  “Yes!” I shouted like a game show contestant. Feeling his contempt, I tried to explain, “I mean. Her cat didn’t tell me. She told me it was her dead cat, so I knew it couldn’t have been him.”

  I began shivering, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or from his ludicrous interrogation. “Miss Kane, how about you have a seat for a minute.” He motioned for me to go to the closest police car. I shook my head, but he gripped my arm and led me toward the vehicle. When he held the back door open and tried to force me to take a seat, I did my impersonation of a cat being lowered into a bath, my fingers clinging to the body of the car as he tried to help me in.

  “No!”

  “You’re refusing to cooperate?”

  “No, I’m just not getting into the car. Look, Mrs. B wants me to spend the night with her. She’s scared. Get out of my way.”

  His hand was on my shoulder as his other hand rested on a stun gun at his waist. “I suggest you get into the car, Miss Kane.”

  Something about his threat awakened the anger in me a second time, “I suggest you keep your hand off of me,” I spat.

  In a low voice, only loud enough for me to hear, he accused, “Here’s what I think. It’s a pretty peculiar situation. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone with Mrs. Bavcock. If I have to take you down to the station to keep you from entering her premises, I will. I may not be able to lock you up for good, but I can hold you for forty-eight hours.”

  I saw Mrs. Bavcock standing in her yard, desperately trying to see what was going on, worry etched on the lines of her face. Forty-eight hours. What could happen to her in that amount of time? Would he come back here? I’d already learned that a policeman staked out on our street was not enough of a deterrent to keep this creep away. Reluctantly, I agreed, “Fine, just let me tell her you don’t want me to stay, and I can go somewhere else.”

  The overbearing, overweight, jackass of a cop followed me to where Mrs. B stood looking hopefully. I didn’t want for her to know what this schmuck believed. She was frail, scared, and except for her furry roommates, she was alone. I couldn’t have her thinking that I had any part in this. My lips pursed together in a thin smile when I delivered the news, “Mrs. Bavcock, I’m not going to be able to stay over tonight after all.”

  Her questioning glance shot between the policeman and me, “Well, why not?”

  I looked at the arrogant moron beside me desperately wanting to spit out all the idiotic conclusions he had drawn, but decided that would for sure land me in jail. “Maybe another night, okay?”

  “I don’t understand, Candy.” Her eyes began clouding with fright again, and I reached over her pristine white picket fence to try to reassure her that she would be safe, when the dork in blue held his hand up to stop me.

  Nothing escaped Mrs. B. She saw his hand block me. I didn’t offer an answer to her unspoken question, instead saying, “I’ll call you tomorrow, Mrs. Bavcock. Have one of the officers check all your rooms before they leave, and then lock your door tight when they go. Don’t open it for anyone.”

  She pressed her lips together, not understanding my change of heart. As I waved my goodbye, I made a straight line to Dave’s truck. The same cop was just a few paces behind me. I’d watched enough television to know he was operating on theory only, which was fine because his conclusions were absurd, and unless he fabricated some sort of evidence, I would never be charged with anything.

  He stuck out his chest as if trying to intimidate me. I wasn’t biting. “I have a few more questions for you.”

  Ignoring his words and still fuming at him, “Great. Let me know when your boss wants to talk to me. I’m done talking to you.” I climbed into the truck, and he grabbed hold of my door. Instead of quietly going away, I shouted, “One more thing. If anything happens to that little old lady because you stopped me from staying here to protect her, I’ll talk to every reporter from here to New York City. I’ll post interviews on Facebook, YouTube and anywhere else I can find. I’ll make it my mission to tell the whole world what a moron this city has working for it!”

  Coolly, he responded, “That sounds suspiciously like a threat.”

  “No, a warning. She is your responsibility; you’d better make sure she’s safe.” I yanked the door free from his grasp, turned over the ignition and backed the wrong way up the street to leave because squad cars were still blocking traffic in both directions on the street.

  Before I had rounded the second corner, I dialed Dave back. He picked up with a sweet tone, “Calling to wish me sweet dreams?”

  I ignored his seductive words, “Not hardly. I’m not sure, but I think I just royally pissed off a cop. I’m on my way back to your place, but I’m not sure if we should stay there.”

  “What? Is the shooter following you?”

  “No.” I glanced in my rearview mirror on instinct and didn’t see any headlights following me. “I don’t think he’s following me. Shit, I don’t know anymore. Is there someplace we can go other than your apartment?”

  “I’ll think of somewhere. How quick can you get here?”

  “Five minutes.”

  I hung up. When I pulled up to Dave’s garage, the right side bay door opened, and he waved me in. Once I had pulled the truck inside, he closed the garage door behind me. Dave opened the driver’s door to the truck for me to climb out. My hurt and anger must have still been pretty clear on my face because as I stood he gathered me in his arms. Dave’s voice was full of concern when he said, “Tell me what happened.”

  I did, all the horrible details – everything the stupid cop had said. Dave shut off all the lights downstairs then guided me toward the steps. I shook my head, “We should go. We can’t stay. If the jackass ran your tags, he knows this is your address. It won’t be long until they bust in here.”

  “My registration and driver’s license both have my address listed as Mr. Kravitz’s house. I called Kravitz to fill him in on what was going on. He won’t give them this address. If they pull my tax records, they could find this address, but if the cops think you had anything to do with what’s gone on, I don’t think we have to worry about their investigative skills. We’ll be fine.” He paused for a minute then gave my hand a gentle tug that sent shivers through my body, “Come upstairs.”

  A part of me started to argue, especially remembering what the jackass cop had said about the assault charge. Before I could say anything, Dave moved in close holding one solitary finger to my lips. “Shhh, come upstairs.” Halfway up, on the step where he had sent my senses into a tailspin with his kiss, I remembered exactly why I ran back to him.

  He turned the lights on in the apartment. Dave went to the kitchenette and opened the refrigerator. He uncapped a strawberry wine cooler and handed it to me. I gratefully took it. Underage drinking was nothing compared to what they were considering charging me with, and at this point, I seriously needed something to calm down. As I stood in his kitchenette, one of the policeman’s questions was still bothering me: Dave was a person of interest in multiple crimes. “Dave, how’d you get away from the cops today?”

  “It wasn’t that hard. One of them left the room to get a coffee. The one who stayed with me after the doctor finished up was on the phone with h
is wife, engrossed in a conversation about a water leak in their basement. I walked out while he was on the phone.”

  “One of the cops at Mrs. Bavcock’s house said you assaulted a police officer today.”

  “Assault? Not hardly.”

  “So how’d you get away?”

  “Like I said: I walked out of the room when the one was on the phone. I saw the second one as I was going to the elevator. He tried to stop me, so I pushed a tray on wheels at him in the hallway, then took off up the stairs. By the time he got in the stairway, I could hear him going down. I went up to the fourth floor and hid in a supply closet. When no one found me, I got the idea to sneak out at the next shift change. I found a pair of scrubs, a coat jammed into a box on a shelf, and I walked out with a crowd of nurses from the hospital. When I was trying to figure out how to get out of the garage, I saw your car parked inside.”

  That didn’t sound like much of an assault charge. He pushed a tray on wheels at the policeman? Maybe the cop had embellished the story so he wouldn’t get in trouble for wandering off for a cup of coffee. I doubted the truthfulness about Dave being a person of interest in several crimes, too. There was nothing in his demeanor or actions that would make me believe he was any kind of a criminal.

  “Any other crimes I should know about?”

  “What? No. Why are you asking?”

  “The cop said you were a person of interest in several crimes. Why would he say that if it weren’t true?”

  Dave looked baffled. “I have no idea. The last thing I did that involved the police was to report graffiti spray painted on my garage.” He paused, then added, “Candy, I’m not a criminal.”

  Chapter 15

  A question had bothered me; after the almost-interrogation on the street in my neighborhood by the stupid cop, I couldn’t let it fester. I insensitively blurted out, “So why didn’t you ever tell me you had a brother?”

  Dave shrugged his shoulders, but held my gaze. “It never came up.”

  “Oh, come on. As much as I complained about my two sisters, you never once thought I would be interested that you had a brother?” I sensed there was more to the story. I took a big swig of the strawberry goodness and took a seat on the sofa, crossing my legs in front of me and pulling them to my chest. “Is he your twin brother? Because he looked just like you.”