She pushed away the sudden, panicked urge to bolt. She willed herself to be strong, to handle this on her own. If she didn’t, she would have to ask Nick for help.
That, of course, had been her first visceral reaction. When she’d walked out of her door this morning, finding the filthy package on her step, she’d huddled next to the front door and pulled out her phone with shaky hands, jabbing in his number. Nick would know what she should do. Nick would take care of her. But as she fumbled with the phone, she hesitated. If she called him, once again, Nick would be saving her. Once again, Nick would be the protective adult and she would be the fragile, broken one who needed his protection. She so desperately didn’t want him to see her that way any longer. She wanted him to love her the way that she loved him. Calling him for help would be a step backwards, away from the future she most desperately wanted.
She’d cradled the phone to her chest and marshaled her courage. No, this time, she would handle this herself.
Cassandra lifted the crumpled paper bag and pushed it gingerly towards the cop. “This...this was on my doorstep this morning. And other things too, in the last few weeks. A bunch of flowers...”
She winced as the officer shook the bag and dumped its contents. The ski glove stuffed with Hershey’s kisses thumped onto the desktop, the fingers pointed skyward like the legs of a dead animal. He stared at the glove, the coating of dried mucous-like slime lining the palm and inside the fingers. “Is that...?”
Her stomach lurched and she turned her head away. She knew what she thought it was, but she wasn’t going to say it out loud. How do you say that someone left a glove smeared with semen on your doorstep?
He pushed his chair away from the desk, folding his arms across his belly and frowning.
“And you found…this…where?”
“On my doorstep. Earlier today.” She dropped her eyes to stare at a greasy, black splotch on the floor near her feet. Her palms were wet with sweat, her cheeks burning.
The officer put both hands flat on the desk. “Anyone pissed off at you?” She looked up, startled, to find him staring at her.
“Wh…what?”
“You know, jilted boyfriends, guys who’ve asked you out but you turned them down. That sort of thing.”
She pulled her backbone straight, struggling to pull the cover of the Snow Queen face into place. “You think someone I know would do this?” She spat out the words.
“That’s what this kind of thing usually ends up being.” He was still staring at her, his eyebrows raised and his mouth curved into a slight lopsided smile. “Or sometimes, especially with a pretty girl like you, it ends up being a secret admirer.”
She glared at him, horrified. He opened a desk drawer and methodically pulled a disposable plastic glove onto his right hand, snapping it tight, then he nudged the glove back into the bag. “I’d guess whoever dropped that off needs to learn a few more social skills.” He chuckled at his own joke.
Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. She took a deep shaky breath. “I live alone. Someone came onto my property and left that...that thing for me to find.”
“We can do a report.” He started rifling through the top drawer of the desk, running his hands through a scrambled mess of papers. “Without more information, though, it might not come to much. We have some serious investigations underway right now, and we’re understaffed.” He shook his head as he tossed a couple of cheap pens onto the desktop. “But you think about it. Pretty girl like you, you must get a lot of attention. If you put your mind to it, you might be able to figure out who’s done this.”
Cassandra recoiled in her seat. “You won’t do anything?” Her hands dug into the fabric of her coat.
His face hardened and he held up one of the pens, pointing it at her. “I didn’t say that. I’m just telling you that no one is going to be running out to your place, taking fingerprints and doing the full CSI routine. We aren’t staffed that way.” His eyes slipped down over her body, pausing for the briefest moment at the swell of her breasts. He leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms in front of him. “But, well, I guess I could come by and take a look around. No harm doing that. Maybe I could stop by after my shift is over.” Once again, he looked her up and down, this time more slowly. “You know, not as police business. More as a personal favor.”
Heat flushed her face. “Never mind.” She hissed the words, barely glancing in his direction. “Just never mind.” Her chair crashed to the floor as she shoved herself upright, and as she turned she stumbled over its protruding leg, tumbling into a heap on the floor. Damn. Damn.
She ignored the quick throb in her shin. A jacketed arm reached for her and pulled her upwards.
“Hey, take it easy. Are you all right?” Pushing a mass of hair out of her eyes, she found her face inches away from the black buttons on a dark gray business suit.
“I’m fine. Just fine.” She wrested her arm away from the tall slim man who had grabbed it.
He swiveled to face the officer. “What’s going on here?” His voice was measured and calm but it commanded attention.
The officer glared at him, obviously annoyed. “Police business. Who the hell are you?”
“Deputy DA Ryan Anderson. Just arrived from Anchorage. Guess you didn’t get the memo.” Seconds of silence ticked away.
“Guess I didn’t.” The officer growled in his general direction. “Welcome, Mr. Anderson. Let me know if you need anything.” He grabbed the crumpled pack of cigarettes from the desk, nodded quickly at Cassandra, and strode towards the door at the back of the room.
Cassandra was breathing harshly through her mouth, almost panting, trying to get the weight of humiliation and embarrassment under control. She stepped away from the suited chest that was much too close for comfort, then tripped over a cane that she hadn’t noticed the man was holding, tumbling them both to the floor. They landed together in an awkward heap, her mostly on top of him, the cane clattering across the floor.
A woman’s laugh tittered from a desk near the back of the room. “Shi...sorry. I’m so sorry. Let me help you up.” The man was attempting to untangle himself from under her, scuttling his arms and legs back and forth, as he spoke. All dignity was lost for both of them. She pulled herself off him, feeling grit scrape against her palms as she pressed them against the floor, and plopped onto her bottom. He scrambled awkwardly to his feet and bent over to offer her a helping hand. He pulled her upward and she was standing close to him again, facing the chest of buttons. She stepped back, this time more carefully, her face hot and wet with sweat. He bent over to retrieve his cane.
“I’m sorry. I...” More than anything, she wanted to get out of this room and never come back. He reached over and took her elbow, steadying her. Tears pricked in the corners of her eyes.
“Whoa. Take it easy for a minute. Why don’t you sit down?” He still held her elbow as he turned to look around the room. “No, let’s get out of here for a few minutes. Are you okay? Can you walk with me down to the coffee shack? It’s just down the street.”
She didn’t want to go anywhere with him or anyone else, but she was desperate to leave this place. She nodded, keeping her head tipped down, and she let him guide her by her elbow through the lobby and out into the fresh afternoon air. The breeze danced against her face, cooling and soothing her skin as they walked. She didn’t yet trust herself to speak, and they moved down the street in silence.
At the coffee stand, he steered her to a nearby bench and stood at the pocket window, ordering drinks. She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself, wondering what she was doing here. She looked over at his back. He was very tall and very thin, and she had noticed his limp as they walked here. At the counter, he leaned against his cane as he pulled out his wallet and paid for their coffee.
He hooked the crook of his cane over his forearm and deposited two steaming paper cups of black coffee on the bench where she sat. He settled on the opposite end of the seat, the coffees a convenient,
reassuring barricade between them.
“Look, I’m sorry if I got in the middle of something I shouldn’t have back there.” He smiled at her, tentatively, concern clearly evident in his deep-set brown eyes. “That officer...he just wasn’t respectful.” He paused, as if waiting for her to say something, but she was still shaken and stayed silent.
He sighed and reached for his coffee. “I shouldn’t even have been in that office. I’m here to do some work with the Troopers, but the case I’m working on has some evidence issues, and I was trying to find the cop who made the initial traffic stop...” His voice trailed away as he looked at her, then he leaned forward and offered his hand.
“I’m Ryan Anderson. I’m an Assistant DA out of Anchorage, down here to work on a felony case.”
She took his outstretched hand and released it quickly. She swallowed a gulp of coffee before she responded.
“Cassandra Drake.” What more should she say?
“Well, Ms. Drake, I hope I didn’t interfere with official police business back there. That cop, I’ve never seen him before.” He frowned a little, staring into the air above her head. “I’m not sure he’s even part of the regular force. His uniform didn’t look quite right for Homer. He might be visiting from Soldotna or Kenai or somewhere.” He shrugged and turned back to look at her face. “Anyway, I didn’t catch all of your conversation, but it didn’t seem like it was going well.” He sipped his coffee, keeping his eyes on her. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
She hesitated for a moment, then dropped her eyes and shook her head, feeling the flush come back into her face. “No...no, it was nothing. Nothing I can’t handle myself.” Ryan’s interest seemed genuine, but she wasn’t going to face more mockery about her situation. If he was here from Anchorage to handle serious felony cases, how would he react to her stupid little problem? She didn’t know what she was going to do next, but right now she just wanted to go somewhere where she could be quiet and think.
Ryan leaned forward and she thought he was going to say more, but then he leaned away and took another sip of his coffee. The long fingers of his large hand encircled his cup and made it look like part of a child’s tea set. She smiled in spite of herself. His face was rather plain but kind, a bit weathered, topped by a wedge of blond hair that seemed to have a mind of its own. She had an odd feeling that she’d met him before, or at least seen him somewhere, but she couldn’t place him. She guessed he was about her age, mid-thirties or so. She liked that he seemed to think before he spoke.
She stood up, pulling her coat around her. “I’ve got to go.” Her shin still throbbed as she turned to leave. She glanced back over her shoulder. “It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Anderson.” She paused. “And thank you for wanting to help me.” She could feel his eyes on her back as she walked away, towards the main road.
~ * ~
By the time she reached the small boat harbor, she’d pulled her emotions under control. Her shoes clattered against the splintery wooden decking as she made her way down the dock to Dreamer. An array of Nick’s tools were lined up in a tidy row on the dock next to the boat. She sighed with relief. Whenever Nick was near, everything was okay.
He looked up and grinned when he heard her call a hello, waving a wrench into the air. She stepped carefully onto the boat and lowered herself quickly onto the closest bench as waves from a passing luxury cruiser rocked Dreamer. Nick shouted above the drone of its departing engine.
“I’m surprised to see you, Cass. What are you up to?”
He stood, rocking with the boat, unruffled by the dips and rises. The breeze played with tufts of his rough graying hair, lifting and dropping them. She stared at him with pleasure. There was no pretension about him, no self-consciousness, no facade. The last threads of her anxiety floated away. He frowned as he looked at her. “Are you feeling okay?”
She nodded. “I was just in the neighborhood. Go on working. I’ll sit for a few minutes.”
Nick dropped back to his knees and used the wrench to pound a greasy piece of equipment that looked like some of the guts of an engine. He grabbed two sides of it and pulled them in opposite directions, then he dropped the messy hunk and swore under his breath. “Damn. That’s gonna take some work.” He wiped his hands on a nearby rag.
“Nick...” Cass stared at the floorboards as she searched for words that sounded casual and neutral. “I stopped by the post office, and Alice introduced me to this guy, Ryan Anderson. I guess he’s a district attorney from Anchorage. He looked sort of familiar. Have you ever met him?”
Nick was still eyeing the stubborn engine part, tipping his head to one side, seemingly planning his next attack.
“Yeah, sure, I think I might have. Isn’t he the DA who came down from Anchorage after that scene with Merry’s husband? When they picked up Michael?” His voice had flattened and he didn’t look at her. She instantly regretted asking a question that led in that direction. She was sure neither of them wanted to talk about Merry.
“Hmm…I don’t remember him.”
“Well, I don’t think he spoke to you. He talked to me for a while, asked me about what I knew about the situation...” Nick muscled the engine part to the front of the boat and out of her sight, but his voice carried back to her. “...which was next to nothing. I remember him staring at you, though, when you dropped by the station to give me a ride. Course that’s not surprising, lots of men stare at you, after all. Wasn’t he the one with the bum leg?”
She bit her lip. “Yes, that’s him.”
Nick walked slowly down the deck, wiping his hands on a rag streaked with black grease. “Did he say anything about the case?” His voice was strained, and she was sorry her question had sent his thoughts back to the past.
“No, we didn’t talk.” She bit her lip. “I was just curious because he looked familiar.” So she had met him before, even if they hadn’t spoken. But why hadn’t he mentioned it? He’d acted like they were total strangers. It really didn’t make sense.
~ * ~
He needs to get near her, to touch her, stroke her. He licks his lips. When he closes his eyes, he sees her in his bed, splayed open, ready for him. He’ll give it to her, no question. More than once. He’ll give it to her until she screams for him to stop. She’s tortured him for long enough, and now he’ll give her a bit of it back, that’s for sure.
He chuckles under his breath. Yeah, he’ll have her, and damn well too. And soon.
But Nick is still hanging around. Damn him to hell. Well, that could be taken care of too. Accidents happened, don’t they? Once Nick is good and gone, the coast will be clear. There’ll be nothing between him and Cass then.
Damn bitch. He’d thought she was better than that, but the bitches were all the same. Took what they wanted, didn’t care about you. He’d learned that long ago, at his bitch of a mother’s tit. He’d taken enough crap from her, he’d just been a stupid kid, until he got old enough and smart enough to give it right back to her.
He rubs his sweaty palms against each other. Sure, he can play the part, make nice. No one knows what goes on in his head. He grins. Boy, if they did…
He is almost done, ready to take what he wants, take her. She’ll see that he is in charge. Once she knows what he can do, she’d understand. She’ll accept it. She’ll want him. He’ll have to take her away so no one could stop it, get in his way. It will all fall into place.
He smirks. He can hardly wait.
Chapter 10
Gravel crunched under Nick’s feet as he strode towards The Twins, swearing under his breath. Damn kids, it had to have been some damn kids. If he ever caught them, he’d grab them by the scruffs of their necks and shake them. His hands spasmed into fists. Two tires slashed, and for what? Stupid kids with too much time on their hands.
He ran through a mental checklist of what this meant for the rest of his day. He could probably find new tires in town, so he wouldn’t have to wait for a delivery from Anchorage or Kenai to replace them. After h
e warmed up with some coffee, he’d need to call Cass and tell her that he couldn’t pick her up later today after all. Damn.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, he pushed his chin under the collar of his jacket. The wind was biting cold and smelled of rain. It wouldn’t be any picnic changing those tires.
Hardly anyone was out walking in the bitter wind. A flash of bright orange caught his eye, a small jacketed figure moving behind the corner of the hardware store. He frowned, slowing for a moment. He’d seen that same figure yesterday, the coat such a brilliant color, the figure disappearing then too, slipping into an alley. He shrugged and kept walking. Probably no one he knew, probably a tourist, though there weren’t too many of them around yet.
His face began to thaw the minute he stepped inside The Twins. He hurried to the counter and asked Sally for a large coffee. While he waited for her to pour it, he rubbed his hands together and blew into them.
“Bad day?” Sally asked, smiling up at him as she passed him a paper cup.
“Yeah,” he snorted. “Came back from the boat to find two slashed tires on the truck.” He passed her some cash, waving away the change. “Figure it was some damn kids.” He blew on his coffee. “I’ll call Wesley and see if he’s got those tires in stock. Maybe he’s got a loaner for me too, in the meantime.”
Sally shook her head. “I hate to hear about stuff like that. Makes me think Homer is going the way of the rest of the world.” Icy air seeped in as the door opened and closed behind him.
“Nick.”
He heard his name spoken from somewhere behind him. Turning, he saw the slim woman in the brilliant orange jacket, staring up at him. He frowned. Did he know her? Of course he did. She was…
“Nick...Dad. I’m Cindy.”
Nick stared at her, dumbstruck. Cindy. His daughter. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were watery from the cold wind outside.
“Cindy.” His head swam. “Cindy, I…what are you doing here?”
Her eyes turned cold and angry and he immediately regretted his words.
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