Early-morning hours didn’t mean the ER wasn’t busy. Dylan checked at the front desk, then they headed for the rear.
One of the doctors saw them and walked over.
“It’s not good,” he said. “She was hysterical when they brought her in, so I had to sedate her. I didn’t give her enough to knock her out. Just enough to relax her.”
“Anything you can tell us now?” Celeste asked.
“I can tell you that Stacy Nash fought back,” he said. “As a result, she has a black eye, a split lip, and bruising along the inner thighs, her breasts and on one wrist that’s also sprained. No sign of semen. She mentioned she’d scratched him, but it looks like he even cleaned under her fingernails. Samples were taken under her nails, but they looked pretty clean.” He took a breath. “The sad part about this whole thing is that she was a virgin. She’d planned on waiting until her wedding night.”
“Oh no,” Celeste murmured.
“Her fiancé is back there with her, and he’s taking it pretty bad.” He grimaced. “He’s ready to kill the guy who hurt her. I’d say he’s a time bomb, ready to go off at any second.”
Dylan muttered a pungent curse under his breath.
“He giving you too much grief?” he asked the doctor.
“Nothing we haven’t had before,” the doctor replied. “He wants to lash out at someone, and right now we’re all he has.”
They didn’t need directions to the correct curtained cubicle. They only had to follow the sound of cursing.
Celeste said Stacy’s name before stepping around the curtain. “Stacy?” She walked up to one side of the gurney. “I’m Detective Celeste Bradshaw. This is Detective Parker.” She didn’t miss the slightly glazed look in the young woman’s eyes. She ignored the young man standing nearby.
“I want that son of a bitch for hurting her,” he snarled. “If I find him first, he’ll be in pieces by the time I finish. Look what he did to my baby! Why haven’t you caught him yet?”
Stacy whimpered as she looked at her fiancé.
“Let’s take a walk, shall we?” Dylan took his arm and pushed him out of the cubicle.
Stacy had the blank gaze of someone under heavy medication as she looked at Celeste. “He hurt me,” she whispered.
“I am so sorry,” Celeste said gently. “I know this isn’t easy for you, but I’d like to ask you a few questions.” She carefully guided the woman through the night’s events. Even sedated, Stacy gave a concise statement as to what had happened.
“You know what was weird?” She slurred her words. “He smelled like oranges.”
Celeste’s head snapped up. “Smelled like oranges?” she repeated.
“Yes.” Stacy licked her lips. “Jason had given me some orange bath oil, and all I could think of was that his hands smelled like my bath oil.”
Celeste suspected the bath oil would be in the trash when Stacy returned home.
“Tell Jason he can’t go after this man,” Stacy begged. Tears appeared in the corners of her eyes. “I know he sounds tough, but I’m afraid he’d get hurt.”
Celeste took a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. “We’ll talk to Jason,” she said. “I will come see you later in the day.”
“It hurt so much,” Stacy whimpered. “He wouldn’t stop. He said he was making love to me. That’s not love, is it?” Her eyes drooped.
“No, Stacy, it’s not.” Celeste tucked her card into Stacy’s hand and left.
She found Dylan and Jason standing outside the ER. Judging from the look on her partner’s face, he had his hands full keeping the hotheaded young man in line. She walked through the sliding doors, hearing Jason’s voice first.
“Why haven’t you caught this bastard yet?” he exploded at Dylan. “Stacy’s delicate! This isn’t something she should have to live with for the rest of her life, and now she has to because you idiots can’t do your job! Let me tell you, if you can’t find him, I will, and by the time I’m finished with him you won’t have to worry about a trial!”
Celeste didn’t remember moving her feet. Only that one moment she was just outside the ER entrance and the next she had her hand planted against Jason’s chest.
“Listen to me very carefully, Jason,” she told him between gritted teeth. “The woman you love, the woman you have promised to cherish for the rest of your life, has been brutally attacked, and you’re ranting and raving about catching her attacker.” She pushed him hard enough that he almost lost his balance. “Do you really want to help us? Then do the right thing. Be thankful she is still alive and tell her you will do everything in your power to help her get through this. You leave the task of catching the rapist to us while you give Stacy all the time and all the love she needs to heal physically and emotionally. You do not leave her side, do you hear me? Because if you don’t to as I say, so help me God, I will make your life a living hell.”
She was sure the fire shooting from her eyes left him in no doubt of her words.
“Trust me, man, she can do it,” Dylan said calmly, seeming unaffected by her attack.
Celeste kept her eyes on Jason, who now looked panicked.
“So, tell me, Jason, what are you going to do?” she asked in a quiet voice that was just as deadly.
“Be with her,” he gasped. “Help her. Please, I can’t breathe!”
She backed away, her hand dropping to her side. “Good idea.”
Jason took one last look at her and almost ran for the entrance.
“You sure put the fear into him,” Dylan commented. “Nothing like an angry woman to put a guy in his place.”
Celeste took several deep breaths to calm her racing pulse.
“I can’t believe I did that,” she muttered. “No matter how angry I have gotten with someone I have never put my hands on them.”
Dylan rested his hands on her shoulders and studied her. “You’re not going to cry, are you? Damn, Leste, you know I can’t handle tears. Hey,” he crooned, “everything’s fine. He was a jerk, and now he just might not be one—all thanks to you.”
She blinked rapidly. “Stacy Nash is a medicated mess, Dylan. She’s now convinced that sex hurts. That while a guy might say all the right words, it can’t be beautiful.” Not like last night with Luc.
“Then let’s hope the time comes when she realizes Jason isn’t Mr. Wonderful and she sends him on his way,” he said. “Come on, Killer, let’s head for the station and see what’s waiting for us.” He peered at her closely. “You look different.”
“Too many middle-of-the-night calls,” she told him, deftly steering him toward the car.
Celeste longingly thought of her bed, and Luc in it. Unfortunately, she knew even if she returned to the apartment at this very minute she wouldn’t find him there.
She wondered how he would act toward her that evening. Would he prefer to forget everything that had happened, or would he drag her into his office and lock the door?
Judging by the simmering heat deep within her belly, she’d be the one dragging him into his office and locking the door.
Chapter 14
“L et’s stop by and see Carl this morning,” Dylan suggested. “See if the guy was out partying last night.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“So, what did you learn from Dante yesterday?” he asked.
That making love with the man will make you forget everything.
“Something besides the restaurant is the connection,” she replied. “He remembered the victims, and he also remembered that each of them had a fight with their significant other while eating there.”
Dylan snapped his fingers. “Which would make an excellent reason for the rapist to think he’s doing them a favor, in his sick and twisted way.”
She nodded. “He sees them as women in pain and he wants to make them feel better.”
Dylan pulled the car over to the side of the road. “Which could actually mean that Carl might not be our guy. It would have to be someone who’s around there when the restaurant’s open. Carl’s i
n there when it’s closed.”
“Unless he’s also eaten there,” Celeste pointed out. “Another thing. Stacy Nash said her attacker smelled like oranges—specifically his hands. She said she remembered it because his hands smelled like some bath oil she’d been given.”
Dylan noticed the expression on her face. “And?”
“And the soap used in the Dante’s Cafe rest rooms is orange-scented. It should have occurred to me before, but it didn’t. It’s not something exclusive, but it isn’t something you’ll find just anywhere.”
“There’s still no one working there who shows up even as a Peeping Tom,” Dylan said, looking frustrated.
“He works there, Dylan,” she said. “I don’t think he’s one of the customers. He’s one of the employees. And we can smoke him out.”
“Really? How?”
“I’m going to let the men there believe I’ve had a fight with my boyfriend. I’ll act down in the dumps and, if asked, I’ll cry a few tears and lament over the no-good bum.”
“What if he needs to see a confrontation?” Dylan asked.
“Let’s try this out first,” she said, growing more enthusiastic.
Dylan shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“It’s a shot.”
He still didn’t look convinced. “It could also get dangerous if he gets wind of you being a cop.”
“I’m working tonight. I’ll start on it then.”
“I still want to stop by and see Carl when the nursery opens,” Dylan said.
“Fine with me.” Celeste pulled out her notebook and charted the dates of each rape. “Have you noticed that the time between attacks is getting shorter. Going by this pattern the next one could be any night now.”
Dylan nodded. “And the violence is escalating. The next death might not be an accident.”
“Which is why we need to catch him before he strikes again. The soap may be a clue, but the staff have their own rest rooms off the kitchen.”
“No fancy orange-scented soap for the help?”
She had to think a moment. “No.”
“What about the partners? We never really took them off our list.”
“Jimmy has a girlfriend.”
“That’s never stopped anyone.”
“He doesn’t really fit the profile of a sweet, caring lover who sees to their needs,” she said.
Dylan quickly changed lanes. “And the other guy?”
“Paulie is the sensitive type, but he’s very shy around women.”
“Which would make him perfect. Why have we not checked into him further?” he demanded.
“Because neither man fits,” she argued. “And why this sudden interest in Paulie? Luc would know if one of them was the rapist. Not physically know, but he’d sense it.”
Dylan spared a quick glance at her. He groaned when she flushed. “You slept with him! You slept with the guy!”
“Paulie isn’t my type,” she said primly, even as her stomach performed a few quick somersaults.
“You know very well I meant Luc Dante. That’s why you sounded so awake when I called. He was there!”
Celeste was grateful they had pulled into the station parking lot. She knew Dylan wouldn’t presume to lecture her around fellow officers.
“He’s not a suspect, but that doesn’t mean what you did was a good idea,” he told her in a fierce whisper. “We’re working an important case, Bradshaw.” He only called her by her last name at the station, or if he was royally ticked off at her.
“Back off, Parker,” she shot back.
Dylan shook his head. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
Celeste didn’t reply that she hoped the same.
The moment they reached their desks, Celeste scanned messages while Dylan ran another check on Paulie and Jimmy. He grumbled that he had to wait until a fairly respectable hour before calling contacts. If he was up, there was no reason why they couldn’t be awake, too.
“Man, Parker, you must still have the hots for your ex-wife,” Davidson, one of the detectives, joked as he passed their desks.
“The last person I’d have the hots for is that she-devil,” he declared.
Celeste and Dylan noticed the few milling around all had broad grins on their faces.
“What’s the joke?” she asked.
Davidson dropped a newspaper on her desk. He didn’t have to point to a particular article. It was already circled in red.
“Yep, a real generous guy,” he chuckled, sauntering off.
“What?” Dylan demanded, seeing the expression on her face.
“How did you pay Alexa her alimony this month?” she asked.
“I wanted her to work for it. I sent her a hundred scratch-off lottery tickets.”
Celeste handed the newspaper to him. Dylan’s face turned purple as he read the article.
“Parker, say something—before you explode.”
Dylan shoved back his chair and stood up. He stalked off without a word.
“Is it true?” One of the clerks came up to Celeste. “Did Parker’s ex-wife win fifty thousand dollars from a lottery ticket he’d given her as part of her alimony?”
Celeste looked at the newspaper that now lay shredded on Dylan’s desk. “It’s true.”
“I wish my ex would do something like that. Except with him, I’d probably be lucky to win a free ticket.” She handed papers to Celeste. “Preliminary crime scene report. They know everything on this is a rush.”
“Thanks, Risa.” She scanned the contents. By now, she should be disheartened to learn it was pretty much the same as all the others, but she looked at it another way. At least it wasn’t the work of a copycat, which meant she didn’t have to worry about tracking down another rapist.
When Dylan returned, he looked calmer. He set a coffee container on her desk along with a muffin.
“No one’s made fresh coffee here yet,” he announced.
“Thank you.” She picked up her coffee and sipped it. “Prelim crime scene report.” She handed it over to him. “Nothing different.”
Dylan glanced at his watch. “The nursery should open in an hour. Let’s head out there then.”
Celeste glanced at the papers littering her desk. “Maybe I can make some headway here before we leave.” She then noticed the pile hidden behind the computer monitor. “Or not.”
By the time they left the station, Celeste felt she’d gotten some work done.
“Why in the world did you give Alexa one hundred lottery tickets? Didn’t you stop to think the odds might be in her favor?” she asked on the way to the nursery.
Dylan’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. “I haven’t even won a free ticket any time I’ve picked up one of those damn things.”
“Then realize you can’t get the best of her and don’t try any more tricks. So far they’ve pretty much back-fired on you,” she advised, unbuckling her seat belt when Dylan stopped the car in front of Thatcher’s. “Just write a damn check!”
“Boy, for someone who had a hot night, you’re sure cranky,” he grumbled.
“I could report you for sexual harassment.”
Dylan made an impolite noise. “Like you haven’t said worse to me.”
“You are such a juvenile,” Celeste muttered, even as she pasted an impersonal smile on her lips.
“Bite me, Bradshaw.”
“Only after I have my rabies shot.”
By the time they entered the nursery grounds, no one would have known they’d been arguing like preschoolers.
“Well, look who’s here.” Mrs. Thatcher greeted them. “I figured you’d want to talk to Carl, so I told him to hold off leaving just yet. You better be quick about it. We lose money when he’s not out there.” She turned her head. “Carl! Those two cops are here to see you.”
“What made you think we’d be back out here, Mrs. Thatcher?” Dylan asked.
“Easy. You think he’s Prince Charming, what with the roses and all.” She
sniffed. “That boy may know his way around flowers and shrubs, but he don’t know a thing about women.”
Celeste and Dylan exchanged a look when the object of their conversation walked from a greenhouse in the back.
If Celeste had to describe a typical ninety-pound weakling she would describe Carl Thatcher. The young man was so thin she was positive if he stood sideways he would disappear completely. Sandy-colored hair hung lankly around his ears and forehead, and washed-out-blue eyes regarded them warily.
She bet he was the perfect target for bullies in school.
“Mr. Thatcher.” She did the greeting, sensing he would respond better to her than to Dylan. “I’m sure your mother told you we’ve been checking on some of the businesses you service.”
He twisted his hands nervously. “I just do my job and leave. I don’t take nothin’.”
“Have you ever noticed anything odd going on? We understand you supply roses to restaurants such as Dante’s Cafe. Has anyone ever requested a larger number than usual?”
He shifted from side to side. “Sometimes. A guy wants to look good and give his girlfriend a rose, so he asks me to just tack a few on to an order.”
“Anyone in particular?”
Now he looked just plain scared. “I did nothin’ wrong.”
“No one said you have,” she soothed. “We’re not accusing you of anything, Mr. Thatcher.”
“Just tell her anything you know, Carl.” Mrs. Thatcher used her voice like a whip. “You’ve got deliveries to make.”
“Dante’s Cafe gets extras sometimes. In case something happens to one of them at a table or to give out for a woman’s birthday or somethin’. That day spa gets extras sometimes like Valentine’s Day or Mother’s Day.”
“Do you just deal with one person at each business?” Dylan asked.
Carl refused to look at him, but they knew the man wasn’t lying. He didn’t have the courage to lie, especially in front of his mother. He nodded.
“Who?” Celeste asked.
“Wanda Mason at the spa, Paulie at Dante’s Cafe, Richard Sinclair at that women’s lingerie store. They give out roses on sale days,” he went on to explain.
“Thank you, Mr. Thatcher.” She smiled warmly and offered her hand. He hesitated, then quickly wiped his hand on his pants before taking hers. “We’re sorry if we kept you from your duties. We just wanted to clear up a few things.”
Roses After Midnight Page 19
