Behind Closed Doors

by Carla Cassidy

  As she walked back toward the student union, she bit the inside of her mouth in an effort to stop the threat of tears. Everything. She was losing everything.

  Anger stirred inside her, an anger bred from helplessness. Who was this man who was stealing her peace, her triumphs, her life piece by piece? He’d tainted every element of her existence. He might as well kill her...he’d already stolen the spirit of her life.

  There was a single small comfort in the knowledge that there was nothing more he could do to her, nothing more he could take away from her. Except for her very life, she had nothing left that she cared about.

  Clay. She froze as his vision filled her head. If the killer was systematically taking from her everything she held dear...perhaps she wasn’t the next intended victim. Perhaps the next victim would be Clay.

  Chapter 14

  Clay entered the student union eager to find Ann and tell her what they’d discovered that day. He looked around the busy area and finally spied her. She sat alone at a table near the vending machine, her attention focused on a stack of papers in front of her.

  For a moment he merely stood inside the door and gazed at her, noting the way her hair shone in the sunlight streaming though the windows, the way her lips moved as she read from the papers before her.

  He strode over to her, feeling the gazes of students watching him as he progressed toward her. He should have changed out of his uniform.

  “Hi,” he greeted her, eager to share the information they’d gleaned today with her. “Ready to go?”

  She nodded, her gaze cool, impersonal. She stood up and gathered her papers in her arm. “Officer Clinton, if you intend to escort me to and from work, the least you could do is be on time.” Her voice was loud, carrying throughout the room.

  Clay felt like a little boy reprimanded by the teacher in front of an entire class of students. “Bad day?” He smiled, but couldn’t retain the gesture beneath the coldness of her eyes. “Ann, what’s wrong?” He reached out to take her arm, but she jerked away from him.

  “Just take me home, Officer.” Without waiting, she took off for the door.

  Clay hurried after her, wondering what in the hell was going on. “Ann...wait up,” he exclaimed as she continued to walk briskly to his car. Before he could reach her, she slid into the passenger seat and slammed the door.

  “I want you to take me to a motel,” she said when he got in and started the engine.

  He turned and stared at her. “You want to tell me what’s going on or are we going to sit here and play guessing games?”

  “There’s nothing going on. I’ve just decided it was a bad idea to stay with you.” She didn’t look at him but rather appeared to be fascinated by the sight of his dashboard.

  “And why is it such a bad idea?”

  “It just is. I don’t need a reason for the way I feel.” She crossed her arms and averted her gaze out the passenger window. “Please, just take me to a motel.”

  Clay put the car in drive and took off, irritated by her mood, by his own ignorance as to what had caused it. He’d grown accustomed to her ready smile, the spark in her eyes whenever he smiled at her. The lack of her warm response caused a pang of something alien to his heart, and that irritated him.

  He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, averting his self-irritation outward to her. She wanted to go to a motel? Tough. She wasn’t going anywhere except his place until he got some answers.

  “This isn’t the way to any motel,” she finally said, her words clipped and cool.

  “We’re going to my place and we’re going to talk.”

  “You want to talk?” For the first time since leaving the college, she looked at him, her eyes blazing with anger. “Find this madman and put him behind bars, then we’ll talk.”

  Clay swerved into his parking space at the apartment, then cut the engine and glared back at her. “That’s what this is all about? We aren’t moving fast enough for you, so you’re pissed? Lady, we’re busting our butts on this case. We all want this guy behind bars and we’re doing the best we can. If that’s not good enough for you, tough.”

  They both exited the car, tension thick in the air between them. It had been a long day and Clay wasn’t sure whether his irritation with Ann was solely due to her mood, or because of his frustration with the case.

  “It’s just as well we came here,” she said as they went into the small apartment. “I can get my things together then you can drive me to a motel or I’ll call a taxi. Either way, I’m not staying here another night.”

  “Ann.” He grabbed her hands and led her to the sofa. “Sit down.” Her hands were icy cold in his. “Tell me what happened today that has you so upset. Please...you owe me that much.”

  She tried to pull her hands away, but he held on tight. She finally stopped struggling and sagged with defeat. When she looked at him her eyes were hollow, devoid of hope.

  “Dr. Bainbridge, the president of the college received a letter about me today. The letter accused me of having an affair with Simon Casmell. Simon is only eighteen years old, for God’s sake.” She closed her eyes and drew in a deep, unsteady breath. “It was vile, the letter was filled with horrible accusations.”

  “Surely your boss didn’t believe them.”

  Ann shook her head. “No, he didn’t, especially since the letter was sent anonymously. But he did tell me he thought it would be better if I took some time off.”

  For the first time since they’d sat down, life flashed in her eyes and her fingers squeezed into Clay’s hands. “This man...this monster is taking away everything that’s dear to me. He’s systematically destroying everything I care about.” She jerked her hands out of Clay’s and stood. “He’s killed a friend, taken my home, tried to kill my cat, stolen my job...there’s nothing left except...” She bit down on her lower lip and in her eyes for just a moment, Clay saw the answer to everything.

  “Except me.” He stood up and approached her, for a moment his throat too full of emotion to speak.

  She turned away from him, her posture rigid. “I just think it would be best if I go to a motel.”

  “Ann.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. Her gaze went from one side of him to the other, never directly connecting with his. “You’re afraid for me.” He felt a curious wonder, a surge of warmth as welcome as a blanket on a wintry night, an awe the likes of which he’d never felt before.

  “Yes.” The word shot out of her as if unbidden, unwanted. “Yes, I’m frightened for you.” She sagged against him, her arms reaching up to wind around his neck. “I’m terrified that by being here with you I’m putting a target on your forehead. I’m terrified that he’ll take some sick pleasure in killing you next.”

  “Shhh.” Clay pulled her tight against him, so close he could feel the pounding of her heart against his chest. “And so you are willing to stay alone in a motel room to distract this nut from me. And the scene in the student union...” He chuckled. “You missed your calling, you should be teaching drama.”

  “It’s not funny,” she said indignantly.

  “No, it’s not,” he agreed, reaching up to tangle his hands in her sweet-smelling hair. He pulled her head away from his chest, wanting to look at her face, see into her eyes. “Ann, I’m a cop. I’m trained to keep myself alive.”

  “But how can you protect yourself against an unknown attacker? How can you stay safe when you don’t know where or from whom the danger might come?”

  Clay placed the palms of his hands on either side of her face. He gazed into her eyes and saw the shadows of fear...fear not for herself but for him. He’d never experienced this kind of unselfish caring before and again his heart filled with a wonder that swept all other thoughts from his mind.

  Without thought, functioning on sheer emotion alone, he lowered his lips to hers. What began as a simple need quickly flamed out of control.

  Her mouth was hot. Greedy. And in the space of a heartbeat Clay’s de
sire soared to unstoppable proportions. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, a sweet invasion she welcomed and returned.

  Her arms wound around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pressed herself against the length of him. Their hips moved in ageless rhythm, the intimate friction shortening their breaths and increasing their frenzy.

  Clay didn’t want to think about whether making love to Ann again was a mistake or not, he only wanted to drown in the sweet sensation of kissing her, touching her...loving her.

  As their kiss broke apart, Ann removed her hands from around his neck and began unbuttoning his shirt. She didn’t speak, but her eyes burned with the flames of desire, a language Clay didn’t need verbalized to understand. His breath caught in his throat as she removed his shirt and her fingers danced at his belt buckle. Within seconds he stood before her, naked and so aroused he thought he might lose his mind.

  He sat on the sofa as she backed away from him and slowly, sensually removed her clothes. Clay had never before understood the pleasure some men had from watching women undress, of men turned on by strippers. As he watched Ann reveal herself in slow, languid movements, he suddenly understood. He burned with the desire to kiss and caress each inch of skin she exposed, ached with the need to meld his flesh with hers.

  When her clothes were finally removed, he reached out and took her hand and pulled her down on top of him on the sofa. Again their mouths found each other.

  Hungrily his hands caressed the silkiness of her breasts, the pebbled hardness of her nipples. She moaned her pleasure, the low, throaty sound increasing Clay’s delight. He wanted her moaning, gasping, weak for him...as he was for her.

  Her body was warm, the heat centered where their hips joined and moved erotically together. She moaned again and raised up to take him into her. As he felt her velvet moistness surround him, he looked into her eyes, wanting the eye contact to deepen their intimacy.

  Her blue eyes shimmered with tears of emotion and in the naked love emanating from her, Clay realized he was not going to be able to walk away from the case or her unscathed. Somehow, some way, he’d lost all his objectivity. He’d fallen in love with Ann.

  He closed his eyes, breaking the eye contact, not wanting to see into her soul, not wanting to fall in any deeper. Instead he focused solely on the physical sensations sweeping through him.

  “So, what you’re telling me is that it’s possible somebody is trying to kill me because they don’t like my name?” Ann looked at Clay incredulously.

  They were in bed, a platter of crackers, cheese and fruit between them. They had made love on the sofa, then showered together. While Ann got dressed and dried her hair, Clay had fixed the plate of food for them to share while he filled her in on what he’d learned that day.

  “That’s about the size of it.” Clay popped a grape into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

  “But that’s crazy.” Ann smiled ruefully at her own words. “Why should anything surprise me at this point in time?”

  “From the police reports we read today, Anntoinette Carson was being stalked, receiving frightening notes and messages. Tomorrow we’re going to try to get a look at the notes and see if they match up with the ones you received.”

  “You’re sure they will match.”

  He nodded. “It’s just too damned coincidental that two different perpetrators would be involved.”

  “So, what do I do? Change my name?”

  Clay smiled. “Unfortunately, I don’t think that will work. It’s more than your name...it’s what the name Ann Carson means to the perp. If we could figure that out, we could probably figure out his identity.”

  Ann reached for a cracker, her heart aching for the woman named Anntoinette Carson, a woman who hadn’t survived. Months from now would another woman be thinking about the second Ann Carson? How sad it was that. she hadn’t survived? She placed the cracker back on the plate, as her appetite fled beneath the morbid thoughts.

  “You okay?” Clay asked.

  She nodded. But she wasn’t okay. She had a crazy person after her, a man who wanted to kill her. She’d lost her home and her job and each day she spent with Clay she knew brought her closer to the heartbreak of her life.

  “I’ve got Raymond checking with the computer, seeing if we can find anything that might have to do with the name Ann Carson. I don’t know that it will do any good, but it’s the only lead we have to follow up on at the moment.”

  Ann sighed in frustration and pulled her legs up to her chest. “I keep going back, wondering if somehow the answer is in my past. There are holes in my memory, dark patches of time without memories.” She reached up and rubbed her temples, the beginning of a headache pounding to life. “If the answer to this mystery is locked in my lost memories, then Anntoinette Carson’s death is directly on my head.”

  “Don’t you believe it,” Clay replied, his jaw tight. “There’s only one person responsible for Anntoinette Carson’s death, and that’s the person who stabbed her. You are no more responsible than I am.”

  “Logically I know you’re right, but emotionally I feel responsible.”

  Clay sat up, displacing Twilight who’d been curled at his feet. “Like you felt responsible for your mother’s drinking? Like you felt responsible for the abuse you suffered?”

  “No.” Ann raised her chin. “No, I know I wasn’t responsible for those things. I was a victim of my mother’s life and choices. I won’t accept the responsibility for the things that happened because of it.”

  “Good.” Clay nodded, satisfaction lighting his eyes.

  “But if the identity of this crazy man is trapped in my memories, then maybe I should see somebody about being regressed or hypnotized to remember the lost time.”

  Clay didn’t answer for a long moment.

  She looked at him, wondering if he thought it a good idea or not. “Clay?”

  When he looked at her, his eyes were filled with an emotion she couldn’t quite understand. “Retrieving those memories might be the most painful thing you’d ever do. You forgot those things for a reason.”

  “Yes, but if it would help find this madman... I survived the reality of my life, surely I can survive the memory of my life.”

  He averted his gaze from her and instead focused on some indefinable point on the ceiling. “Sometimes your strength absolutely blows me away,” he finally said softly.

  “I’m no stronger than anyone else,” she replied. “I just know if you think it might help, I’ll go through whatever process is necessary to get all my memories back.”

  “Let’s not make a decision about that right now. Give us a couple of days to check out what we have, see what we can come up with before you do anything rash.” He got out of bed, surprising her with his sudden movement. “I’ve got some reports I need to go over and you’d better get some sleep.”

  He pulled on a pair of jeans and picked up the platter of goodies. He started for the door, then hesitated and turned to her. “You know, I was just thinking. You mentioned that you are going to need a place to stay. I’ll be leaving this apartment in less than three weeks, but the rent is paid up through the end of the month. There’s no reason why you couldn’t stay here until you decide what you want to do about your condo.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate the offer. I’ll think about it.”

  He nodded and left the room, pulling the door closed behind him. A hollow ache gnawed in Ann’s chest. She had a feeling he’d intentionally distanced himself from her, not only by leaving the bed, but by reminding her he would be leaving in a short time.

  She knew he cared for her, felt it when he looked at her, when he touched her. Were his feelings for her strong enough to make him forget the dreams he’d worked toward for the past twenty years? And did she really want him to sacrifice his dreams for her?

  No. She wished his dreams included her, wished his desires for a future were the same as hers. But, she didn’t want him to relinquish his goals and stay with her, then grow
bitter for having made such a choice.

  He’d leave and she’d survive. Surviving is what she did best. She plumped her pillow and reached over to turn off the bedside lamp at the same time that Twilight curled up against her warmth.

  She turned off the light, plunging the room into darkness, then pulled the cat into her arms. “You and me, Twilight. We’ll be fine.” Tears burned hot at her eyes and she knew this time her tears were not for the child she’d once been, but for the woman she’d become and the heartache of loving Clay.

  “Dammit.” Clay slapped the reports down on the top of his desk and shoved his chair back. Raking a hand through his hair, he glared first at Bob, then at Raymond. “I was sort of hoping we’d find a connection between Greg Thorton and this Anntoinette Carson, but there’s nothing to tie him to her.”

  “Would have been nice to tie things up that neatly,” Bob agreed as he grabbed the last slice of pizza from the take-out box. “But we know Thorton is clean. He’s got an airtight alibi for Anntoinette Carson’s murder. He was giving a speech at a dinner in front of a hundred other people at the time she was killed.”

  “And after talking to his ex-girlfriend, I’m not so sure there’s anything to the charges of abuse. I spoke to the prosecutor in charge of the case and the way she remembers it, the girlfriend was mad because Thorton had broken up with her. She trumped up the charges of abuse to get even with him.” Raymond scratched his belly thoughtfully. “I’m still working the computer and looking at back records to see if the name Ann Carson pops up anywhere.”

  “Yeah, and I’m running down the list of her students, checking backgrounds and looking for red flags,” Bob added.

  Clay nodded. “Anything that might tie one of the students to both Anntoinette Carson and Ann.” He sighed in frustration. “Okay, lunch break is over, let’s get back to work.”

  As his two partners walked away, Clay stared down at the paperwork in front of him. He wasn’t sure whether it was the pizza or the lack of leads that had given him a case of heartburn.