The American Temp and the British Inspector

by Pat White

  “We need to interview him,” Max said.

  “Hospital staff said no visitors until morning.” He glanced at Max. “I’ve got a theory, guv. I think our canvass of the neighborhood messed up C.K.’s plans, he lost control of the situation and Lyle Cooper escaped.” Bobby glanced at the doorway. “You look bloody awful.”

  Max turned to see Barnes, arms crossed over his chest as if he hadn’t a scratch or bruise on him. Truth was, he looked like he’d gone five rounds in a boxing ring.

  More like one round with a madman.

  “You should see the other guy,” Barnes joked.

  “We need someone to keep watch over the Cooper boy,” Max said, directing the focus back to the investigation. “Barnes, call Spinelli. Have him swing by the hospital after he drops off Kreegan. Since the Cooper boy has turned up, phone McDonald and have him return from the pubs. You and I will interview the Cooper boy tomorrow.” Max snapped his attention away from Barnes. “Seems we have a temporary reprieve. I have a feeling C.K. is going to step things up next time around. We’d all better get a good night’s sleep.”

  Max noticed Late Eddie motion to Cassie. He must have uncovered information about Cassie’s mother and sisters. A part of Max wished he could be the one to help her reunite with her family.

  It was better this way: better that she depend on someone like Eddie the computer geek than on a dangerous and unstable sod like Max.

  He brushed past Barnes and made for the stairs, needing time to process today’s events.

  “Guv?” Barnes followed Max. “Does this mean you’re staying on?”

  “Looks that way.” He hesitated at the top of the stairs.

  Barnes stepped up beside him.

  “You should put some ice on that.” Max motioned to his swollen lip.

  “You almost sound like you care.” Barnes cracked a half smile.

  “Don’t count on it.” Max went to his room and shut the door, needing time alone, time to think and get his bearings back. He paced to the window and cracked it open, fully intending to light up. Then he realized it had been days since he’d smoked, and he hadn’t even missed it, his mind so absorbed in finding a killer.

  A killer who had either screwed up or had planned the boy’s escape to further engage the team in his game of torture and death.

  No, C.K. had screwed up. What had Bobby said? That the team’s presence had thrown the killer off and contributed to the boy’s escape?

  “Wishful thinking, mate,” he whispered.

  If he accepted that, he’d have to consider the possibility that Cassie was right: Max’s post-traumatic stress had heightened his sensitivity and sharpened his instinct, instinct that had led them close to the killer.

  Now he truly sounded mad.

  ANTICIPATION kept Cassie awake well past midnight. She tried counting sheep, pigs and whales. She even tried reading a mystery she’d found on the shelves. Nothing worked.

  She put the book down and slipped the piece of paper out of her sweatpants pocket.

  Eddie had located her mother.

  She ran her finger across the address: 145 Cleveland Street, Elgin. Her mother had relocated to the western suburbs. According to the report, the Des Plaines house had been sold last year. Mom had signed the documents using her maiden name, which meant she must have finally gotten a divorce.

  Could Cassie do this, show up out of the blue on her mom’s doorstep? Would she embrace her daughter, or would she be ashamed of the young woman for marrying an abuser, then abandoning her mother and her sisters?

  She tried picturing herself visiting Mom’s new house, ringing the doorbell, seeing her face. But Cassie wasn’t alone. In the picture, Max stood by her side.

  “Not good,” she muttered.

  He was becoming a part of her life, a good friend, no, more than that. She was starting to care about him, a lot.

  She needed him.

  Her worst fear. Needing him meant she’d grown to depend on him. She’d never make that mistake again. She was safe on her own, independent.

  And safety was key for Cassie.

  A muffled sound snapped her attention away from the note. She placed it back in her pocket and swung the covers off. Surely everyone had to be asleep at this time of night. She glanced at her clock radio. One-fifteen. She climbed out of bed and opened her door. She waited. Maybe it was her imagination.

  She was about to close her door when she heard it again: the sound of a man crying out.

  “Max,” she whispered. She grabbed her robe from the chair and headed down the hall to his room. The nightmares were terrifying. She knew that better than anyone.

  She knocked softly on his door. “Max?”

  Another door opened down the hall. Jeremy stuck his head out of his bedroom.

  Max cried out again. She placed her hand to his doorknob hoping he hadn’t locked it. She glanced at Jeremy, who shot her an understanding nod, and closed his door.

  She went into Max’s room. He’d left a desk lamp on; to chase away the demons? She’d slept with a light on for months after she’d moved to Seattle.

  “Max?” she said, touching his bare shoulder.

  His sheets were strewn across the bed; his pack of cigarettes had been knocked to the floor.

  “Wake up,” she said.

  His eyes shot open, glassy and wide. “I can’t get to him. I can see him, but I can’t get to him.”

  “It’s okay now,” she hushed him, shifting onto the bed and resting his head in her lap. She stroked his thick, black hair, remembering how desperately she’d needed someone to hold her a year ago, hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay.

  “Relax,” she said. “We’ll find him.”

  She leaned against the headboard and stroked his hair until his breathing slowed. His white-knuckled fingers balled the cotton fabric of her robe.

  Max was used to being strong and in charge. But between the stress of this murder case, and battling post-traumatic stress, he must feel completely out of control.

  A terrifying feeling.

  “Got to stop it… Blood everywhere…” he muttered, with a catch in his breath.

  She wondered if he was dreaming about this case or the bombing that had changed his life.

  “It’s okay, Max. Everything’s okay,” she whispered, stroking his hair, hoping her touch would ground him. Her other hand trailed down his bare shoulder. She noticed an ugly scar across his lower back. God he must have gone through hell after the bombing.

  His breathing slowed and his fingers relaxed their grip on her robe.

  “It will be fine,” she said, knowing that in the end what mattered most was your attitude about your situation.

  She’d taken a horrible situation and had turned it around, made a new life for herself. Now if she could only help Max do the same.

  A SHARP KNOCK jolted Max from a deep sleep. Good God, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so soundly.

  “Meeting in twenty minutes!” Barnes called through the door.

  Max glanced at the door, then at the woman lying beside him.

  Cassie.

  What in the bloody hell was she doing here?

  He noticed his hand resting protectively on her hip. He snatched it back and got out of bed, standing there for a good ten seconds, trying to figure out what to do. He needed a bloody smoke, but he’d left them on the nightstand on her side of the bed.

  She rolled onto her back and sighed, then opened her eyes.

  “Hey, how’d you sleep?” She smiled at him.

  The room tipped sideways.

  “You’re in my bed.” Brilliant, mate.

  She sat up and stretched her arms over her head. She acted as though sleeping next to him was a completely normal affair, like…she’d been completely satisfied by a long night of pleasurable lovemaking.

  “You had a nightmare,” she said.

  “I did not,” he said. Good God, had she heard him all the way down the hall and come to hi
s rescue?

  “Okay, I had a nightmare.” She smiled again.

  He couldn’t move. He stood there, like a complete idiot, in nothing but his undershorts.

  She yawned. “What time is it?” She glanced at the clock. “Crap! We’re going to be late.”

  She threw off the covers and whipped open the door. “See you downstairs!” she said over her shoulder and disappeared.

  Yes, he surely would see her. He snatched the pack of cigarettes from the floor, his hip aching in protest. Bugger, this had become bloody awkward.

  Now why’s that, mate? It’s not like you made love to the girl.

  But he wished he had.

  Bad, very bad. This was a professional relationship. Besides, this woman was too fragile to be stuck with Max’s mental issues. He glanced at the bed where he’d been snuggled up against her warm body, his hands all over her.

  The girl was recovering from trauma of her own and he’d used her as a security blanket. He should be ashamed of himself.

  Yet a part of him welcomed the good night’s sleep. He glanced at the clock. Great, he had fifteen minutes to get downstairs. Didn’t look good if the team’s leader was late.

  In record time he showered and shaved, threw on clothes and made it downstairs. Coffee, he needed coffee.

  A few team members were already at their desks, going over notes and waiting for the day’s assignments. Max headed for the kitchen where Barnes poured hot water into a mug. Art stood beside him.

  Art glanced up. “Hey, guv, how’d you sleep last night?”

  Barnes, whose room was near Max’s, smiled slightly as he stared into his cup. Did he know about Cassie’s middle-of-the-night visit?

  “I slept fine,” Max said. “Why do you ask?”

  “I tossed and turned all night. Can’t get used to the humidity.”

  Barnes stepped out of the way and Max poured himself coffee.

  “I’ll meet you inside.” Art headed for the front room.

  Barnes followed him.

  “Jeremy?” Max said.

  “Yeah, guv?”

  He wanted to say, “Sorry for beating the tar out of you.” Instead, he squeezed the mug between his fingers.

  “I don’t know about you, guv, but I’m frustrated as hell,” Jeremy said. “C.K. has never anticipated our approach before. It’s almost like he’s a step ahead of us, stringing us along.”

  “Then the trick is to get three steps ahead of him, yeah?”

  “Yes, sir.” Barnes turned and disappeared down the hall.

  Max started for the meeting and passed Cassie in the hallway. She looked bright and cheerful this morning, her hair pulled back with a headband, her smile full and genuine.

  “Coffee’s on,” he said. “Not as good as yours, but it should do the trick.”

  “Thanks, Max.” She sauntered into the kitchen.

  She’d called him Max. Well, that was a first. Sure, why not? She’d spent the night holding him while he sobbed in her arms. After that kind of intimacy you tend to drop formalities.

  Max went to the front of the room. “Where’s Agent Kreegan?”

  “Had a problem with her daughter,” Jeremy said. “She’s on her way.”

  “Right. Listen up, Agent Barnes and I will visit the hospital and interview the victim. Agent McDonald, anything from the pubs last night?”

  “Dead end, guv,” McDonald said. “But I’m following up on a few leads I picked up from speaking with the Cooper boy’s brother.”

  “What else?” Max prompted, glancing at his team.

  “The plumber was a dead end,” Eddie said. “Spinelli had me check him out. Records confirm that the guy was out of town during the first murder and he had an alibi for the second. Nothing suspicious about the college advisor, either. He’s happily married, volunteers at the YMCA and is on various boards of charitable organizations. He’s a stand-up guy.”

  “Aren’t they all?” McDonald muttered.

  “What else?”

  “I’ve got something on the coin,” Eddie offered. “If you look through a magnifying glass you can make out Themis, the Goddess of Justice.”

  “Lyle Cooper was pre-law so that makes sense,” Barnes said.

  Still, something nagged at Max’s brain. Keep moving, mate.

  “Eddie, see if you can find security video from the pubs in the immediate area of where the boy was found,” Max said. “Agent Barnes will get you the names and contact information for those pubs. Agent Barnes, did you speak with the Cooper family?”

  “Yes, guv. We have their permission to interview the boy.”

  “Excellent. Agent Finn will accompany us to the hospital to relieve Spinelli. The good news is we no longer have the time pressure to contend with. That said, let’s find C.K. before he snatches another victim. Check in at four.”

  He spotted Cassie in the hallway, reaching up to touch Barnes’s swollen lip. That was her way, to heal and comfort. That’s what last night was about. She’d heard Max screaming in his sleep and had come to his rescue.

  That’s when he admitted something quite frightening: he wished she’d come into his room because she wanted him. He wished she were attracted to him as a man, not as a casualty of war needing triage.

  The truth was, he’d grown attached to her, not for her secretarial skills, but he’d grown attached to her refreshing smile and sassy mouth. Nothing scared her off, not even a broken man with a chip on his shoulder the size of Great Britain.

  This can go nowhere.

  Hadn’t that kiss proved otherwise?

  Finn waited in the hallway with Barnes and Cassie. Max walked up to them, cupping Cassie’s elbow. “Why don’t you stay back and relax today?”

  “What if I don’t want to relax?”

  Barnes and Finn looked terribly uncomfortable, as if they were eavesdropping on a marital squabble.

  “I’ll meet you outside,” Max said to them.

  He redirected his attention to Cassie. “We could be sitting at the hospital for hours waiting for the boy to wake up. Surely you’ve got better things to do with your time.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Eddie found your mum, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “Take the day and go see her. I don’t need you.”

  The four words felt strange coming out of his mouth, and her expression looked even stranger, as if he’d insulted her somehow.

  “I’d rather not go alone,” she said.

  “Fine. When we solve this case, you can take someone from the team with you. Eddie’s good company, or maybe Barnes? He’s a solid chap.”

  She shook her head.

  “What?”

  “For a detective, you can be so obtuse.” She brushed past him and went out the front door.

  Now what had he done? He was trying to be helpful, show the same concern and compassion that she showed him last night.

  He’d never understand women, and now wasn’t the time to try. He followed her to the rented SUV. She climbed into the back with Bobby, chatting away as though they were old friends. Max got into the front beside Jeremy.

  They pulled away from the curb and Jeremy navigated city traffic like a pro.

  “Nice job for someone used to driving on the other side of the road,” Max said.

  “You’ll find I’m full of surprises.”

  That smart-aleck tone that used to irk Max now entertained him. Maybe he’d pegged Jeremy all wrong from the start. Sure, the man had wanted his job at SCI, but he wouldn’t have wished Max harm.

  Max thought about their row last night, how Barnes had challenged him. It was almost as if Barnes was trying to help Max move on. And help himself as well.

  Max looked at him. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  Cassie and Bobby quieted.

  “I’m sorry?” Barnes said, glancing at Max, then back at traffic.

  “You aren’t responsible for my disability. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”


  “Because of me,” Jeremy said, his voice flat.

  “No, because of something neither of us could control.” He paused. “Fate.”

  “I don’t believe in fate.”

  “No.” He studied Jeremy. “I don’t suppose you would.”

  Max, on the other hand, had started to believe in many things he wouldn’t have a month ago: unconditional compassion from a sweet girl, the possibility of finally putting C.K. in prison, and yes, maybe even finally healing from post-trauma madness.

  Was Cassie right? Had the condition heightened his sensitivity to other things as well, sharpening his instinct?

  The coin still puzzled him, yet he wasn’t sure why. Themis, the Goddess of Justice, a coin that Lyle Cooper’s roommate did not recognize. Since he lived with Cooper, wouldn’t he have noticed the coin around—on a desk, on the boy’s dresser?

  Cassie had challenged Max to accept who he was and move on. A part of him wanted to give up his rage at having his identity stripped from him in the bombing. But in a way, it had kept him alive these past ten months. At least he could feel something, even if it was the burn of anger.

  They made the rest of the drive in relative silence, only a few murmurs issuing from the back seat as Cassie pointed out various Chicago sights.

  Too bad they weren’t visiting under better circumstances. He’d love to see the sights through her eyes.

  She was a giving person, and she needed someone with a mundane career, not someone whose life’s work was chasing down the vilest of criminals. Max couldn’t start a barbecue fire, but he could pick a criminal out of a lineup with eighty percent accuracy.

  Cassie had experienced plenty of personal violence in her life. She needed a man who could take her away from all that, a man who would cherish her and offer her an unremarkable life filled with children and annual family holidays.

  They parked in the hospital garage and started for the elevator. Jeremy’s mobile went off.

  “Barnes,” he answered and slowed his pace. “But we were just there.”