Cold Case, Hot Accomplice

by Carla Cassidy

  His lips curved up in that slow, lazy grin that both maddened and charmed her. “Spoiled completely rotten,” he agreed.

  The smile fell, and once again his eyes darkened. “But by no means have I lived the charmed life I suspect you think I have. We all have issues, Roxy. Right now I need to stay focused on what issue might have made somebody want to throw knives at you tonight.”

  She cupped her hands around her coffee cup. “I feel like I’ve fallen into somebody else’s nightmare.”

  “Unfortunately, it’s yours, and we’ve got to figure out who the boogeyman is before you fall into another nightmare.”

  She looked at him sharply. “You think something else could happen to me?”

  He took a sip of coffee, as if giving himself a chance to figure out how he intended to answer her question.

  She leaned forward. “Steve, you have to be honest with me. We need to make a pact that we’ll be completely open and honest with each other until all of this madness is over.”

  “Then my honest answer to you is that I don’t know. It’s possible those knives were thrown with such precision so that they wouldn’t hit you, or it’s possible the person intended for them to hit you and their aim was slightly off.”

  “In which case, if the desire is to kill me, then the job isn’t finished yet,” she replied. She fought off a new shiver of fear as she wondered from where a new danger might come and what form it would take.

  Jimmy and Frank remained outside for nearly an hour. When they came inside, Roxy poured them each a cup of coffee, and the four of them sat at the table.

  “We checked all around the area and found nothing to link to anyone, then took measurements of the gouges in the wood,” Frank said. “By the slant of the gouges, I would guess that whoever threw the knives was hiding someplace by the Dumpster. Whoever threw them had to be strong to get them as far as they flew and as deep as they hit.”

  “They had strange hilts, like big ornate crosses,” she said, suddenly remembering the odd shape of the handles.

  “Sounds like professional throwing knives,” Jimmy said. He shrugged as both Frank and Steve looked at him. “What can I tell you? I went through a ninja phase when I was younger, and one of the things I learned was about throwing knives and stars.”

  “Should we be calling you Ninja Jimmy?” Roxy asked, trying desperately to alleviate her fear and the sober atmosphere that had taken over her kitchen.

  He shot her a quick grin. “Nah, I like being a detective better than a ninja.” His smile fell. “But if we can identify what kind of throwing knives they were, then we might be able to chase down the owner. Why don’t you come into the station sometime tomorrow, and we’ll go through some pictures and see if you can specifically identify the hilts.”

  She nodded. “Did you find anything else out there?”

  “Nothing,” Frank replied. “Whoever was out there didn’t drop or leave anything behind that we could find.”

  “And my concern is that I don’t know if this attack tonight is somehow tied to Liz Marcoli’s disappearance or if it’s something completely different,” Steve said.

  “We need to investigate it both ways,” Frank said.

  Steve nodded. “That’s what I told Roxy.” He looked at her. “When you come in tomorrow to check out Jimmy’s pictures of throwing knives, I want you to bring me a list of anyone and everyone you work with, that you interact with on a daily or weekly basis.”

  “I know—anyone who might have a problem with my scintillating personality,” Roxy said wryly. It was easy for her to feel safe now, with three detectives seated in her kitchen.

  She didn’t want them to leave while darkness still remained outside. She’d like to keep them right where they were until dawn stretched across the sky. Nothing was as frightening in the daytime as it was in the dark.

  But all too soon Jimmy and Frank finished their coffee, made arrangements for Roxy to come into the station around two the next afternoon and then left.

  Steve remained sitting at the table, as if sensing her dread of being all alone. She wasn’t sure that she liked the fact that he apparently was starting to know her well enough to read her emotions. But she supposed fear was an easy emotion to read, and he’d probably been through nights like this with plenty of other crime victims.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to call one of your sisters to come and stay here with you for the rest of the night?” he asked.

  “Positive.”

  “You have a friend you can call?”

  She stared at him, realizing for the first time that she had her sisters and she had her staff, but she really didn’t have any friends. There had never been time for friends.

  “No, not really.” She got up from the table and carried the empty cups to the sink, deciding she’d wash them by hand rather than load them into the industrial-size dishwasher.

  When she turned back around Steve was on his feet, and for the first time she noted the exhaustion that paled his eyes and deepened the laugh lines that gave character to his handsome features.

  “Are you going to be okay for the rest of the night?” he asked.

  She wanted to tell him that she wouldn’t be, that she wanted him to stay and make sure whoever had thrown those knives didn’t come back to try to harm her again. She wanted to tell him that she needed him to stay with her, that he made her feel safe as no man had ever done before, but she didn’t.

  She glanced at the large clock on the wall. “It’s almost two. Surely bad guys have to sleep. I’ll be fine. I’ve got a dead bolt on my apartment door upstairs.” She straightened her shoulders, digging for the inner strength and independence that had always been her best friends.

  He hesitated, as if torn with the decision whether to go or to stay.

  “Go home, Steve. Get some sleep. It sounds like we’re going to have a long day tomorrow.”

  “I’ll make sure the patrol guys do drive-bys here every half hour or so for the rest of the night.”

  She nodded and walked with him to the door, needing to be strong when all she wanted to do was throw her arms around his neck and beg him to stay.

  He opened the back door, looked outside and then turned back to her. “I’m just a phone call away, Roxy. I can be back here within ten minutes if you need me.”

  “I’m sure the drama is over now.” She believed that. She really didn’t expect anything more to happen for what remained of the night.

  He lifted a hand, as if to touch her cheek or stroke her hair, and then apparently thought better of it and dropped his arm back to his side. “Then unless something else happens or new information comes in, I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon in the office at two.”

  It was only after she’d closed and locked the door after him that she realized how much she wished he would have touched her...stroked her face or run his fingers through her hair. And if she looked deep inside herself, she recognized that her wanting him close had nothing to do with fear.

  Kissing Steve had shaken her, creating a desire for him that was unwanted, that would only complicate their lives.

  It had been over a year since Roxy had tried a relationship with a man, and she’d found the experience frustrating, unpleasant and ultimately not worth the effort. Gary Holzman had fooled her, professing to admire and adore her, yet trying to change everything about her.

  Fantasizing about a relationship with Steve Kincaid was a fool’s dream, and Roxy was no fool. She quickly washed the cups and placed them back in the cabinet, then turned out the lights in the kitchen and headed upstairs to her living quarters.

  Once inside, she checked to make sure the door was locked with the dead bolt and then sank down on the sofa. As exhausted as she was, she was too wired to sleep.

  Where was Aunt Liz? Who had thrown those knives at her? W
ere the two related, or did Roxy have a deadly enemy she didn’t know about?

  She chewed her thumbnail as thoughts whirled in a dizzy spin in her head. While she had no reason to believe any danger would come at her for the rest of the night, what kept her awake was the idea of what might happen in the future.

  * * *

  It was just before noon the next day when Steve got word from an officer he had sitting on the Cardell residence that Edward had just pulled into his driveway.

  He considered calling Roxy but immediately cast the idea out of his head. He’d call her after he checked out Edward. It would make things easier on everyone.

  Frank rode with him, as Jimmy was busy preparing a showcase of throwing knives on the computer to show Roxy later in the day.

  “Have you spoken with Roxy this morning?” Frank asked.

  Steve nodded. “I called her just before the restaurant was due to open. I just wanted to check in to make sure she’d gotten through the night okay.”

  “She’s a tough cookie.”

  “She’s one of the most aggravating women I’ve ever met,” Steve replied.

  Frank smiled. “You like her.”

  Steve thought about the past couple of days and released a sigh. “Yeah, I do,” he admitted reluctantly. “But that doesn’t mean it’s going anywhere. She has no interest in a relationship with me or anyone else. And you know how I feel about getting serious again with any woman.”

  “We’re on the same page where that’s concerned,” Frank said.

  The two fell silent. As Steve drove, he thought about his partner, who had been married for two years and had come home one day to find his wife dead, having committed suicide. Frank had been devastated. While he knew his wife suffered from some depression, he’d had no idea how desperate and miserable she’d become.

  Frank blamed himself for not seeing clearly, for not taking action to save the woman he’d loved. He and Steve shared the common bond of love gone terribly wrong and the determination never to go there again.

  As Steve approached Cardell’s street, he shoved all thoughts of love and Roxy out of his mind. He hoped Liz was with Cardell, that the two of them had sneaked away for a romantic couple of days and hadn’t realized the frantic worry they’d left behind. He hoped they’d been thoughtless and rude, not criminal, in their actions.

  A white panel van sat in the driveway, and Steve pulled up next to it and parked. He hadn’t told Roxy that Edward owned a panel van, the perfect vehicle for camping—or for kidnapping.

  The air crackled with a new intensity as the two detectives got out of the car and approached the front door. From the information gathered from people they’d contacted about Edward, he had a reputation for being an affable guy, but Steve knew more than anyone how people might wear facades, and when those masks slipped there were sometimes monsters beneath.

  Steve knocked on the door, and Frank stood just off to the side of the porch with his hand on the butt of his gun. Although neither of them were anticipating trouble, they were prepared for it in case it reared its ugly head.

  The door opened and a tall, older man dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that read Gone Fishin’ gave them a quizzical but pleasant smile. His hair was a thick salt and pepper, and his blue eyes appeared guileless. “Can I help you folks?” he asked, looking first at Steve and then at Frank.

  His pleasant expression grew worried when he saw Frank’s gun. Steve quickly introduced them. “Mind if we come in and ask you some questions?”

  Edward appeared both confused and concerned at the same time. “Sure,” he agreed and opened the door to allow them inside.

  A large duffel bag, along with a grocery bag, sat just inside the door. “Sorry about that,” Edward said as Steve stepped over it. “I just got back from the mountains and haven’t had a chance to get things put away.” He frowned. “Is there a problem?”

  “Was Liz Marcoli with you at the cabin in the mountains?” Steve asked.

  Edward’s frown deepened. “Liz? No. The mountains aren’t Liz’s thing, and the cabin is definitely too primitive. I’d never take her there. Why?”

  “When was the last time you saw or spoke to Liz?” Frank asked as Steve fought off a wave of discouragement. He’d been so hopeful that this was all some misunderstanding, that Liz had taken off with Edward and simply forgotten to tell Roxy and her sisters her plans.

  “Thursday evening. I called her to tell her goodbye before I headed out early on Friday morning.” Edward gestured them toward the sofa. “Please, have a seat and tell me what this is all about.”

  Steve exchanged a glance with Frank, and the two sat on the sofa while Edward sank down in a chair opposite them, his features still radiating confusion and concern. “What’s all this about Liz? Is she okay?”

  “We don’t know. Nobody has seen or heard from her since Thursday night, although we know she was at her house early on Friday morning.” Steve watched Edward intently, looking for any signs of deception in facial expression or body language. “Did you and Liz have a fight?”

  “Of course not. Liz and I don’t fight. The girls haven’t seen or heard from her?” Once again he looked from Steve to Frank. “Nobody has seen her since Thursday?” It was as if he couldn’t wrap his brain around it.

  “She apparently worked Friday morning to prepare some baked goods to take to Roxy at the Dollhouse, but she never made it there. The baked goods and her purse were still on the kitchen counter when Roxy insisted I do a well check on her.”

  Roxy... Steve couldn’t think about her now, about how the fragile hope she’d held that her aunt was with Edward would be shattered.

  A flare of panic lit Edward’s eyes. “And nobody knows what’s happened to her?”

  “We hoped she might be with you,” Frank said.

  “No, Liz never had any interest in going to the cabin with me. She knew that I enjoyed the solitude, and she preferred sticking around town. God, I wish she would have been with me. What could have happened to her?” Edward sat forward on his chair, as if ready to spring into action to find the woman he obviously cared about.

  “Would you mind if we take a look in the back of your panel van?” Steve asked.

  The question stunned Edward. His mouth opened and closed as his eyes widened. “You think maybe I...?” His voice trailed off. “Of course, you can look wherever you want. I’ll even give you directions and the key to the cabin if you need to check it out. Why on earth would you think I’d want to hurt Liz? I care deeply about her.”

  “We heard that the two of you weren’t exactly on the same page about some things,” Steve said. “We heard you were irritated that she wouldn’t introduce you to her family.”

  Edward leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I wasn’t irritated about that, and we certainly didn’t fight about it. Sure, I wanted it to happen, but Liz wasn’t ready for that so I accepted her wishes that we keep things as they are.”

  “And exactly how are things between you?” Steve asked.

  “Our relationship has been a slow build over the past year. We met at bingo, sat next to each other for the evening, and after the games were finished I invited her to lunch the next day.”

  The blue of his eyes softened. “That was the beginning of a lot of lunches and occasional dinners together. We were both lonely and we fit well together, but Liz wanted to take things slowly and that was fine with me. I just enjoyed her company. Then about three months ago we took the relationship to a deeper level. She spent the night here occasionally, usually on Saturday nights when she didn’t have to get up and bake the next morning. Check wherever and whatever you want, just please find her for me...for her girls.”

  Minutes later Steve and Frank were outside looking in the back of the panel van and finding only the kinds of things an outdoorsman would normally carry—fi
shing poles and tackle boxes nestled next to a sleeping bag and a stack of precut firewood.

  What they didn’t find was any evidence that Liz or her body had ever been in the back of the van. They left thirty minutes later with the location of the cabin and the key, although there wasn’t time to check it out before they were to meet with Roxy at the station to look at the computer show of throwing knives that Jimmy had spent the morning preparing.

  “What did you think?” Frank asked when they were back in the car and headed to the station.

  “My gut is telling me he didn’t have anything to do with Liz’s disappearance, but my gut has been wrong before.” Steve gripped the steering wheel as he thought of the last time his gut had given him false information—and the result had been the loss of his child.

  “I say we check in with Roxy at the station, and then you and I drive up to that cabin and check it out,” Frank said. “According to Edward, it’s less than an hour’s drive. We could be there and back before dark.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me.” It was a plan he wouldn’t mention to Roxy, and hopefully she wouldn’t think about the need to check out the cabin. It was bad enough he had to tell her that, at least on the surface, Edward appeared genuinely perplexed and worried about Liz’s absence.

  “She’s going to be so upset that Liz wasn’t with Edward,” Steve said, more to himself than to his partner.

  “This definitely moves Liz’s disappearance into a different light,” Frank replied. “Even though her kitchen showed no signs of foul play, it’s been four days and it’s definitely time to step up the investigation process and consider this a real crime.”

  “I’ve been investigating it like it’s a real crime since the beginning,” Steve said. “I never truly embraced the idea that Liz went willingly with Edward, that she’d just up and left with him without letting any of her family members know her plans. She’s too close to Roxy, Marlene and Sheri to stay incommunicado.”

  “So maybe she went with Edward unwillingly,” Frank speculated. “That panel van would have made it easy for him to somehow overtake her, stash her back there and drive her to the mountain cabin. Maybe he killed her up there and buried her someplace in the woods.”