by Pat White
“Like what, guv?” Bobby asked.
“If I knew I’d be in a whole lot better mood, wouldn’t I?”
The room fell silent. Max had better watch it. It did him no good to take out his frustrations on the team. And he sure as hell didn’t want to look like a right nutter who couldn’t control his temper.
A man who couldn’t keep it together.
“Agent Kreegan? Get me something off that note.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Barnes, make an appointment with the fraternity president,” Max said. “That’s it. Get to work.”
Why was C.K. making this personal? He’d never taunted Max like this before.
“Can I get you anything, sir?” Barnes asked, concern lacing his voice.
Pity from Barnes nauseated Max.
“Where’s Cassie?” Max said.
“I think she’s in the back making a call.”
“Get her, will you? I’ll need you, Finn and Cassie to accompany me to district headquarters. I want to canvass the area, check security tapes. See if we can drum up leads as to who dropped off the note.”
“Of course, sir.”
Barnes disappeared and Max turned to glance out the front window of the command center. A blur of movement caught his eye: leaves being tossed about from the fall wind. Which was how he felt right now, tossed about, unable to get hold of anything.
“Sir?” Agent Kreegan said. “The notes you received during the London murders, were they printed on fancy paper?”
“Not particularly. Why?”
“Because this one was printed on parchment with little specks of red, pink and orange. Does it mean anything to you, sir?”
His blood chilled. Could C.K. have already taken his next victim and used the boy’s blood to decorate the notepaper?
“Cassie!” he called.
“Yes, sir?” She strode into the room.
“The note, where is it?”
“I’ve got it,” Barnes said, standing beside her.
“Give it to Agent Kreegan.” He turned to her. “Test every speck for DNA. Results go directly to McDonald. He’ll be working the missing-persons angle.”
“Yes, sir.” She grabbed a briefcase from her chair and left.
“My God,” Cassie whispered. “You think that was blood on the note?”
“I doubt it,” Max said. “Barnes, get her a glass of water, will you?”
“I’m fine,” she said.
He heard the tremor in her voice.
“All the same.” Barnes touched Cassie’s shoulder and led her into the hallway toward the kitchen.
Max squeezed the brass handle of his cane. Did no good to be furious with Barnes for following an order. Only, Max didn’t remember telling him to touch the girl.
She’d turned white at the suggestion of blood spatters on the note. How was Max going to do his job effectively and look out for her tender sensitivities at the same time?
Focus.
Max went to McDonald’s desk. “I’ve got Agent Kreegan working on a lead. If she gets a blood type, see if it matches with any suspected missing boys.”
“Wish we could get access to the FBI missing persons database,” McDonald said.
“I’ve worked with the FBI. I can get us in, sir,” Late Eddie offered. “Although, that would probably mean breaking twenty-seven different federal laws.”
Max leaned over his desk. “Being a part of Blackwell means bending the rules to get results. This isn’t a government agency. We do whatever it takes.”
“Is that a direct order, sir?” Eddie said, with a twinkle in his eye.
“Yes, it is.” He glanced across the room. “Agent Finn?”
“Yeah, guv?” Bobby walked over to Max.
“You’re riding with us. Bring a car around, will you?”
“Right away, guv.”
Max glanced at the doorway in time to see Cassie smile at something Barnes said. Her smile was innocent, yet charming, and Max was jealous that Barnes had put it there.
Perfect. Not only was Max a target of a serial killer’s attention, but he also had to cope with rusty investigative skills, a strange mental disorder and now…jealousy.
What should he care if Barnes made her laugh, or even took her out and showed her a good time? She deserved a good time, something she was definitely not getting from Max.
Barnes leaned a little closer, whispered something, and she smiled.
Clenching his jaw, Max limped up between them trying to look unaffected by their flirtation.
“Bobby’s bringing a car around,” he said. “Cassie and I will sit in the back.”
“Why, thank you, sir,” Barnes said.
Was that a mocking grin on his face?
“Let’s go,” Max said. It was going to be a long afternoon.
IF SHE DIDN’T KNOW better, she’d think Max was jealous. Ridiculous, Cassie thought, following him to a liquor store around the corner from police headquarters.
He stopped and glared over his shoulder. “Stay here.”
Taking a step back, she crossed her arms over her chest. Wow, the first two words he’d spoken since they’d left the command center: two emotionless words equaling an order.
As he disappeared into the store, she leaned up against the building. If it wasn’t jealousy, then what? Was his hip bothering him more than usual, but he wouldn’t admit it? He was determined not to show any weakness. He’d survived a deadly blast. It wasn’t his fault he’d been injured. It wasn’t exactly a personal weakness like being conceited or nasty.
No, he chose to be bossy, hardheaded and rude.
She thought they’d cleared the air during lunch: Cassie spilling her guts about Karl, Max telling her point-blank that he needed to trust her without reservation.
He sure wasn’t acting like he trusted her. Sheesh, he acted as though he didn’t even like her all that much.
She watched Jeremy and Bobby make their way down the other side of the street. They were asking business owners if they’d seen a man resembling the one who had dropped off the note. Thanks to Agent Spinelli’s connections, he’d gotten a good description from a police lieutenant.
She watched Jeremy shake hands with a businessman. Jeremy was rather attractive, tall and lean, with a reserved nature and wry sense of humor. He seemed like a nice enough guy, a proper gentleman, but not her type.
No, she’d been conditioned to be drawn to the rough guys, hard-asses, maybe a little mean. Which is why she wasn’t getting involved anytime soon. She wouldn’t risk her own bad judgment. It would surely land her in a mess of chaos and pain. And it would be a frigid day in hell before she’d put herself in the position of depending on a man again, giving him that kind of power.
She guessed Max’s ex-fiancée had depended on him before the accident. Cassie imagined that after the bombing, he’d pushed her away because he felt weak and helpless.
Cassie didn’t see him that way at all. Withdrawn, sure, but definitely not weak.
Turning back to the street, she glanced at pedestrians who marched down the sidewalk toward their various jobs, appointments and lunches. She hoped that Max would stop hiding in his apartment and come out into the world on his own. In some respects, he was a lot like the women she worked with at the shelter: wounded, scared and distrustful. These were challenging emotions for a woman, they must be brutal for a typical man. Although, she wouldn’t know a typical man if he walked up and kissed her on the cheek.
“Enough,” she muttered, shaking off the self-condemnation.
Jeremy glanced in her direction and smiled. She smiled back, appreciating the friendly gesture.
“What is it with you two?”
She jumped at the sound of Max’s voice and glanced up into his hard, green eyes.
“What, so absorbed in your fantasy about Agent Barnes that you didn’t even hear me hobble up beside you?” Max said.
It was a rude remark. But at least he was talking to her.
Girl, you�
�ve got to learn some new tricks.
She narrowed her eyes, winding up for a good comeback. But before she could utter a word, he shook his head and walked away. Walked, not hobbled. He never hobbled. Why was he determined to berate himself for needing the cane? Was it that horrible to be dependent on something?
Yes, she thought, for Max Templeton, it was appalling.
“Hey, wait up!” she called after him.
Jeremy waved them over. Apparently they had found a lead. Max practically sprinted through traffic to get away from her.
Good grief, Cassie! He wants to find a killer. This isn’t about him getting away from you.
Or was it?
She danced through traffic and caught up to him. Max, Jeremy and Bobby were deep in conversation. “She said a man fitting the description of the suspect visits her espresso stand Monday through Thursday afternoons, around four,” Jeremy said.
“She’s sure it’s him?”
“Pretty sure, guv,” Bobby said. “Gray hooded sweatshirt, a pierced eyebrow, she thinks Hispanic.”
“He can’t be our killer,” Jeremy said.
“Maybe not, but he could lead us to him.” Max eyed the street. “We’ll wait.”
Max directed Jeremy to stand inside an office building about thirty feet from the coffee stand, while Bobby placed himself a few offices in the other direction. Max and Cassie waited in the car.
“You never answered my question.” Max’s deep voice penetrated the silence.
“What?” she said.
“I asked about you and Barnes.”
She squared off at him. “I considered it a rhetorical question.”
He continued to stare out the front window. “It wasn’t.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, wait, what are we talking about here? I only met him two days ago. What do you think is going on between me and Jeremy?”
“I could guess.”
He pressed his fist against his hip, the place where she suspected a piece of shrapnel had ripped the joint apart.
“Why?” she said.
“Excuse me?” His gaze seemed to look right through her, as though he didn’t want to see her, or talk to her.
“Why do you care what I do or who I talk to?” she said.
“You smiled at him.”
“Or who I smile at? It shouldn’t matter a hoot. I should be able to smile at a bartender or a cop, or a male stripper for that matter.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t give me that look. I’m your assistant, not your little sister. You have no right to tell me who I can and cannot smile at. It’s not in my job description.”
“Stay here.” Max whipped open the car door and casually strode to the espresso stand. What, did he need a sudden hit of caffeine to continue sparring with her?
Cassie wanted to give him a piece of her mind, but hesitated when she saw him nod at Jeremy. They were on the move.
Bobby Finn approached from the right, as Max faked a smile and spoke to the man in the sweatshirt. Jeremy started towards them. Max placed a friendly hand on the man’s shoulder—
Sweatshirt guy spun around and swung at Max, who backed away. Max put his hand out, as if trying to reason with the man, calm him down. Cassie reached for the door handle, her heart racing into her throat. Sweatshirt guy lunged at Max, jabbing at him with his right hand. The afternoon sun reflected off something, momentarily blinding her.
God, no. Not a knife.
She clenched the door handle, frozen in place. He was going to stab Max, kill him right here in broad daylight on a busy Chicago street. Through her peripheral vision she saw pedestrians step back like a ripple around a stone plunking in water.
Sweatshirt guy yelled something, lunged again and turned to run. Max tripped the guy with his cane and he fell flat to the sidewalk. Bobby jumped on top of him and pinned him to the cement. The knife? Where was the knife?
Her heartbeat hammered against her throat. Bobby grabbed sweatshirt guy by the shoulders and pressed him against the building. Bystanders slowed to get a better look. Jeremy approached, hands on his hips, speaking rationally, in complete control.
Max rolled his neck and joined Jeremy and Bobby as they questioned sweatshirt guy. She couldn’t see him clearly, but realized he’d slid down the wall in surrender. Jeremy knelt down and talked with him, Bobby stood poised to subdue the man again, and Max leaned against the wall looking down, watching the interrogation.
She started to feel lightheaded and it was then she realized she’d been holding her breath. Glancing at her hand, she snapped it free of the door handle, berating herself for her trembling fingers. She’d healed, damn it, no longer that passive girl who let violence terrorize her.
Maybe it was still too soon. No, she wouldn’t accept that. She’d grown a new set of emotional muscles to protect herself, an imaginary shield to keep the violence out.
Movement caught her eye. Two cops raced across the street and cuffed sweatshirt guy. One of the cops dragged him away, while the other stayed back and spoke with Jeremy. Bobby and Max headed for the car.
Breathe, Cassie. You don’t want him to see you like this.
No, he’d send her packing for sure. But she couldn’t leave, not yet. She had unfinished business in Chicago.
Bobby got behind the wheel. “That was bloody exciting. You okay, guv?”
Max slid onto the seat next to Cassie. “Exciting isn’t the word that comes to mind.”
He closed his eyes and tipped his head back.
“What happened, Bobby?” she asked.
“Bloody waste of time. He didn’t know who paid him to drop off the note. He got the money at a phone box down the block. He walked by one day and the phone was ringing. He picked it up and was told to come back, same time tomorrow, and there’d be a note and a hundred-dollar bill waiting for him.”
Jeremy got into the front seat and glanced at Cassie. “You okay back there?”
Max snapped his eyes open and studied her.
“Hey, don’t worry about me,” she said. “I’m fine. What about you? Didn’t that guy have a knife or something?”
Max closed his eyes again. “Or something.”
“Where to now?” Bobby asked.
“The command center,” Max ordered.
“The hospital,” Jeremy countered.
Max opened his eyes and glared at Jeremy.
“The hospital? Why?” Cassie panicked.
Then she looked at Max’s fisted hand on the seat beside him. It was covered in blood.
Chapter Five
“A bloody waste of time,” Max said, storming down the hospital corridor. “We’ve lost three hours on this case. I hope you’re happy.”
Jeremy wasn’t happy. He was angry, frustrated and more than a bit worried about his senior in command. The man would have let himself bleed to death.
It wasn’t as serious as Jeremy had suspected, but the team leader did need ten stitches. What was he planning to do, wrap it himself and risk infection?
Jeremy followed closely as his cranky ex-boss navigated around hospital personnel. It had been a boring three hours for sure, but necessary. Besides, there was no time clock going on this case…yet.
Max stopped short and turned to Jeremy. “I know what this is really about and I don’t bloody like it. Deal with your own guilt. Don’t use me to ease your conscience. I swear to God, if you keep treating me like a child I will hop the next plane to Seattle, C.K. be damned.”
He rushed ahead, Bobby catching up to him. Jeremy counted to five before following, allowing Max space. Cassie kept pace with Jeremy.
“He doesn’t mean it,” she said.
“You’re the expert, are you?” he smiled, half teasing.
She shrugged.
He’d hoped letting her accompany Max into the examination room would help keep him calm. Jeremy guessed the last time Max had been in a hospital was for one of many surgeries to repair hip damage. A hospital was the last place M
ax would want ever to step foot into again. Jeremy couldn’t blame him.
“It’s not the pain. He doesn’t do weakness very well,” Cassie said.
“I’m sorry?”
“Y’know, the fact that he got stabbed is worse than the pain itself. He’s probably ashamed he didn’t defend himself better or some ridiculous thing like that.”
Ridiculous? Like the guilt that settled low in Jeremy’s gut? The guilt that screamed out: If you’d been quicker you would have taken on the knife-wielding idiot instead of putting Max in his path.
In two moves Jeremy could have disarmed him and avoided the bloodshed. Instead, the crippled former inspector had had to fend off the man.
If Max ever heard Jeremy refer to him as crippled, he’d strangle him with his bare hands.
Jeremy agreed with the girl, Max was berating himself for letting the suspect get the better of him. Truth was, it could have happened to any of them. No one expected the man to go crazy and wave a switchblade wildly about. They didn’t think him the killer, rather hoped he was a lead to the killer’s identity.
“What guilt?” Cassie said.
Jeremy turned to her. “Excuse me?”
“Max said you needed to deal with your own guilt?”
His lips curled into a wry smile. Max had Jeremy’s number on that one. “I was supposed to be at King’s Cross Station when the bomb went off. Max was doing me a favor by picking up an agent. Max ended up in the hospital with a shattered hip, needing multiple operations. I ended up with his job.”
“That’s not your fault.”
He didn’t say anything. What could he say? That he’d spent the last ten months trying to work out how to make it up to Max, and now he feared he might be making the man’s condition worse by thrusting him into the heat of another serial case?
“What is that all about?” Cassie said, slowing down.
Narrowing his eyes, Jeremy noticed a media crew on the other side of the glass doors.
“Looking for publicity, were you?” Max said to Jeremy.
“I had nothing to do with this.”
“I’ll get the car and bring it around.” Bobby pushed through the group.
It was going to be tricky getting out of here without giving a statement.
