by CJ Lyons
There were two police officers and a caseworker from Children and Youth now with the family. Ronald and Cindy held hands, both with stubborn sullen looks on their faces as the grandmother yelled at the police to leave them alone, they did nothing wrong, no one had known Mary was sick. Then she saw Cassie and her expression changed from righteous indignation into hopefulness.
"How's Mary, Doctor? How's our little girl? Is she going to be all right?"
Cassie stood with one hand on the door, ready to escape as soon as possible. It was difficult to watch, these ordinary monsters and their performance.
"Mary just died. There was nothing we could do to save her. Her injuries were too severe," Cassie said, her voice sounding flat and distant.
The police officers exchanged glances; this now was a homicide case. Cassie turned her back and walked away. She ignored the grandmother's shouts of malpractice and threats to sue them all.
Cassie felt dirty. Like she needed to wash herself clean of all this.
She'd headed back past the nurses' station, grateful the board looked under control, when an angry woman strode out of one of the rooms.
"Nurse, will you find me a doctor?" she demanded. "My son has a sore throat and cough and we've been waiting for over an hour! You tell the doctor he's sick and needs to be seen right now!"
It took every ounce of will power for Cassie to turn and face the woman without lashing out. She looked past the woman to where her teenaged son sat playing a handheld video game, looking anything but ill.
"We just had a very serious trauma, ma'am," she replied as politely as she could. "Your son will be taken care of as soon as possible."
The woman huffed and stood in the doorway, a scowl on her face. "I'm never coming back to this hospital again."
Cassie ducked into the utility closet and leaned against a shelf, rubbing her eyes with her hands, trying to erase what they had seen today. After a few minutes of the quiet darkness, she took a deep breath, then blew it out.
She remembered looking down at her watch. Five hours left on her shift.
Now Cassie stared out Lisa's streaky window at the city lights, her sandwich long forgotten. Lisa looked up from her note taking, licked some grease from her fingers.
"So you took no part in the evidence collection? The rape kit was done in the OR?"
There was a long pause before Cassie could pull her mind back to the present. She felt as if Mary was in the room with them; patiently waiting for the grownups to finally get it right, bring her the justice she deserved.
"Kurtis did it after he declared her," she finally answered. "I remember there was another trauma alert—roll over MVA. He came down to help, but he would have left the kit with a nurse to guard it. He knows the routine."
The lawyer's mouth tightened. "Only problem was, the specimens were still drying, so they weren't sealed yet. The nurse got called away to another emergency and it was twenty some minutes until she returned. Then she sealed and tagged everything."
Cassie stared at her. The frustration and anger she felt when Mary died returned with a vengeance. "So Ronald Brickner is claiming someone waited until the nurse just happened to get called away and this anonymous someone just happened to have a sample of his DNA that they just happened to be carrying around and they somehow inserted it into the rape kit? Not to mention the body—the ME did their own evidence collection as well."
"The body was in the same unattended room as the rape kit. It's all out," Lisa said in a tone that made it seem like this was a perfectly reasonable situation.
"This is crazy! Doesn't anyone care what happened to that little girl? The hell he put her through? Do you have any idea how much pain she was in during those two days while her intestines literally rotted inside her belly?" Cassie was shouting, but she didn't care. They were alone on this floor—hell, as far as the legal system cared, they were alone in their crusade to protect Mary.
"It's the law," Lisa said with a shrug. "The law is there to protect everyone. Just sometimes it backfires, is all."
Cassie slammed her palm onto the table hard enough to rattle their Snapple bottles. The crack echoed throughout the room. "Goddamn it!"
She blew her breath out. She hated losing control like that, hated feeling so helpless. She hadn't been able to save Mary's life, but she had sworn to get justice for the little girl.
Cassie slumped back into her chair, pushed her sandwich away. Her appetite was definitely gone.
"How can you be so calm?" she asked Lisa who was still scribbling notes.
Lisa looked up. "I'm not. Remember on the phone when I called you? That was me coming off my own rant. It's not productive for both of us to freak out simultaneously. Feel better now?"
"A little." Cassie was surprised it was the truth. After Drake's experiences with the ADA, she hadn't expected to like the woman, but she did. They were a lot alike. Driven, obsessed even, when it came to the people they had taken a vow to protect and serve. "Thanks."
Lisa waved her hand dismissively. "Hell, I get worse all the time from the cops. Including your cop. Always thinks he's right. Of course the bitch of it is, he usually is." She frowned. "Don't tell him I said that. Ready to get back to work? We still have a lot to cover."
The ceiling fan gave a final groan and died. Cassie couldn't help but wonder if it was an omen.
CHAPTER 14
It was one-thirty in the morning by the time Cassie let herself back into Drake's place. She couldn't face her own house and its familiar ghosts tonight, not after stirring up the memories of Mary's death. Pacing through Drake's empty apartment, she refused to acknowledge her disappointment when he wasn't there waiting for her.
Yes, she'd told him to go. He needed to go. The best way to keep him safe.
But damn, she wished he was here with her now. She was exhausted. A keyed up kind of fatigue; one that wouldn't allow any release into sleep.
It was late to call, but she needed to hear his voice. She started to dial his cell from the landline, then stopped, replacing the phone in its cradle. What would she say? Come back and hold me so I don't have nightmares?
Did she really want him back in Pittsburgh where some deranged woman was stalking him? Besides, she could take care of herself.
Right.
She roamed the apartment, wishing Drake was less of a neat freak so she could clean. Maybe a workout? No, she didn't need physical exhaustion to relax her.
What she needed was some peace of mind. Something that lately she'd only found in Drake's arms.
She returned to Drake's bedroom and rummaged in his closet, lifting a broadcloth shirt from its hanger and wrinkling her nose. The burnt smell of starch and a Laundromat.
In Drake's clothes hamper she found the pale blue button down he'd worn to work yesterday. She inhaled deeply. Much better. Musk and tang of his sweat. Not overpowering, but definitely there.
She slipped into the shirt, rolling up the sleeves. The hem swished at mid-thigh, its light touch a teasing stroke, reminding her she'd rather it was Drake not his shirt touching her. She crawled into his side of the bed and burrowed her face into his pillow. This was bad, very bad, a warning voice echoed through her mind as she inhaled his scent and imagined his arms around her.
Wasn't this exactly what Richard promised her? He'd vowed to protect her, take care of her. Cinderella, that had been his nickname for her. He treated her like a princess. And she'd bought the fantasy. Had been so tired of being alone after her parents and Rosa died, so desperate to believe.
But even with Richard, she never allowed a man to get so close that she yearned for him when he was gone. She never allowed herself to need anyone like she needed Drake. It was a weakness Cassie didn't want to admit. She'd promised herself after her disastrous marriage she'd never fall in love, never open herself up to that kind of pain. Never again.
This wasn't love. Only lust, she told herself as she drifted to sleep. And lust didn't count.
<><><>
Cassie
woke, yanked from sleep by a surge of fear and adrenalin. She listened for the sound that had invaded her sleep.
Then she heard it. Someone breathing in the dark. Her heart revved into overdrive. Cassie held her breath, trying to pinpoint the location.
A floorboard creaked with weight. A solid shadow passed the windows. Cassie sat up, fumbling for the bedside light, hoping the sudden movement would spook the intruder. Footsteps turned into running feet. The door slammed moments later.
Cassie ignored the light and ran after the intruder.
Was it Pamela's sister come to find Drake? She grabbed the only weapon that came to hand, a hammer she'd left on the hall table with her tool belt. She raced barefoot down the steps.
A shrill peel of an alarm blared through the stairwell as she turned the corner at the second floor landing. She was in time to see the steel door at the bottom closing.
Cassie ran to the door.
"Stop right there!" a commanding voice came from behind her.
Cassie whirled brandishing her hammer. Tony Spanos stood before her, the cordless drill in his hands aimed at her.
"Cassie? What the hell?" he yelled over the blare of the alarm.
She ignored him and pushed the door open. Nothing moved in the night. Tony crossed to a small keypad beside the door and seconds later the alarm was silent.
Cassie returned inside, still clutching the hammer. She leaned against the door. Tony sank onto the steps with the drill dangling between his knees. The only sound was their ragged breathing as they regarded each other.
"You scared the shit out of me," he told her. "I thought you and Drake were gone this weekend."
"It's three in the morning," Cassie said when she caught her breath. "What are you doing here?"
"Working a security shift at a club in the Strip District. No way to sleep after six hours of technofunk blasting in your ears, so I thought I'd come over and enjoy some peace and quiet while I worked on your system."
She nodded to the new alarm on the door. "You just put that in?"
"Finished about twenty minutes ago. Guess it was good timing." He smiled as if seeking her approval for protecting her. "Think it was Pamela's sister, leaving another message for Drake?"
"I didn't get a look. Whoever it was moved fast. All I saw was the door swinging shut."
Tony's eyes narrowed. "How'd you get down here so fast anyway?" he asked, his gaze moving up toward the third floor landing. "I was on a ladder installing a smoke detector, and you beat me–"
"I was chasing the intruder. She…he—whoever—was in Drake's apartment."
Tony leapt to his feet. He dropped the drill and took her by the arm. "I'm taking you home. It's not safe here."
Cassie wrenched her arm away. "Tony, it's all right. They're gone now. Besides Drake said they know where I live."
"They must have gotten inside the building before I got here. Are you all right? Did she hurt you?" His gaze dropped, examining her, and Cassie remembered she wore only Drake's shirt and a pair of cotton underpants. She crossed her arms over her chest and tried to ignore the flush that burned her face.
"I'm fine. He–or she–didn't touch me."
Tony poised in indecision. She could see the ex-cop wanted to check Drake's apartment for evidence, but didn't want to leave her unprotected.
As if she couldn't take care of herself. She made up her mind for him and started up the steps.
"Let me search the building, make certain there's no one else here," Tony said, moving to lead the way.
They reached Drake's landing and the door Cassie had left standing open. Tony carefully examined the locks without touching them.
"No obvious signs of force," he told her. He went inside, holding the hammer as he prowled through the apartment. "No signs of any disturbance at all." He moved into Drake's studio before Cassie could stop him.
"What the hell," he said in amazement as his eyes moved over the sketches and canvasses that filled the room. "Drake did these?"
Now Cassie was in trouble. Drake hadn't told anyone outside of her and his family about his second career as an artist. Not even Jimmy Dolan or Andy Greally, his best friends, knew. And now she'd given his secret to Spanos. A man not exactly high on the list of Drake's confidants.
"Tony, you need to promise me you won't tell anyone. Drake doesn't want anyone to know."
He whistled low under his breath, his eyes riveted on a sketch of Cassie sleeping, nude. "I'll bet he doesn't. Wouldn't want the guys to think he's some kind of pansy–"
"Tony," Cassie grabbed his arms, pulling his attention back to her more-or-less-clothed self. "Please. Promise me."
He looked down on her and gave a smile that made him look almost charming. "All right. For you, Cassie. I promise." Then he saw the iron staircase spiraling to the ceiling. "Where's that go?"
"Up to the roof."
"Anywhere to hide up there?" He was already climbing it, opening the door at the top. Cassie jogged up behind him. "Jesus," he breathed after he opened the door and inhaled the heady perfume that swirled over the roof.
The rooftop garden was Cassie's sanctuary just as the studio was Drake's. She'd spent most of the spring resurrecting it. Cultivating roses, viburnum, Japanese maples, weeping almonds, juniper and a variety of flowers.
She'd researched the Liberty Times building and found they used to hold concerts and dinner dances up here. Some of the best musicians of the twenties and thirties performed on the rooftop gazebo, bringing Pittsburgh its first taste of the Jazz revolution sweeping Harlem. Cassie used old photos to recreate the rooftop oasis, including the gazebo with its bandstand, slate dance floor, bistro tables and benches, wrought iron gliders, even a trellis covered with climbing roses arching over the paved path leading from the elevator.
Tony turned in a circle to appreciate the entire moonlight panorama. The facade in the front of the building blocked the view from the street and the trees that grew in the ravine behind shielded the roof further and muffled most of the city noises.
"It's like a dream. You can't even tell you're in the middle of a city."
Cassie smiled. Exactly the effect she'd been aiming for. Tonight the air was scented by night blooming jasmine and gardenias mingling with roses and oriental lilies.
Tony took a deep breath. "It's like heaven. What's that smell–the vanilla one?"
Cassie picked a small purple blossom for him. "Heliotrope," she told him. It was Drake's favorite so she'd placed containers of it around their favorite settee.
Tony drank in the sweet fragrance. "Sexy," he murmured and his eyes lit on her once more. Before Cassie could move, the burly ex-cop encircled her in his arms and kissed her.
Cassie felt heat wash over her but it was the warmth of embarrassment, not passion. She pushed him away. "Tony–" she started, but didn't know what to say.
"I know, I know–I'm sorry," he said, although his expression was unapologetic. "But now you know how I feel. If you ever come to your senses about Drake, well, I'll be waiting." His eyes narrowed in the moonlight. "Where is Drake, anyway? He didn't leave you here alone. Not with some crazy freak coming after him. Not even Drake would be that stupid!"
Cassie chewed her lip. "We thought it would be safer if he left," she finally said. "I couldn't leave. I had to meet with the DA about the Eamon case."
"Obviously he was wrong," Tony said, not bothering to hide the disdain in his voice. He held the door open for her and followed her down the stairs back into Drake's apartment. "Wait here and lock the door. Give me ten minutes to check the rest of the building." When he returned he was shaking his head.
"If you hadn't seen her and if the alarm hadn't gone off, there'd be no trace of anyone getting in. If it was Pamela's sister, she knew what she was doing." He sat on the couch while Cassie took the seat across from him. "Do you want me to call it in?"
"Would they be able to do anything?"
"Other than tear the place apart dusting for prints, I doubt it."
&nb
sp; Cassie shook her head. It was bad enough that Tony knew Drake's secret, she wasn't going to allow more of his coworkers to pry into his private affairs. "She'd be too smart to leave any anyway."
"Just what I was thinking." He yawned. "So, the way I see it, either you come home with me or I take the couch here."
Cassie looked at him. "I don't need–"
"So it's the couch then," he said. He stretched his length along the leather surface making it very clear nothing short of a bulldozer would budge him. Cassie sighed and went into Drake's room. She grabbed a spare pillow and the gray and black striped comforter from the bed and took them to Tony.
"Good night, Cassie," he said with a smile.
Cassie rolled her eyes at stubborn men everywhere and closed the bedroom door behind her.
CHAPTER 15
Drake tried to wake up, tried to stop the dream He opened his mouth to shout a warning, but no sound came. He watched helplessly while Hart screamed as the hostage taker pulled the trigger.
The gunshot sounded more like a sonic boom. It rocked him but he couldn't move. A sliver of rational thought reminded him it hadn't happened this way, that he had saved Hart, but it was quickly drowned out by the nightmare vision of what could have happened after Spanos froze. Hart's screams dwindled to a croaking gasp, her mouth filled with blood. Helpless to save her, her blood gushing out, covering her face, Drake shuddered and turned away.
To see Pamela. God, why did it always come back to her?
She turned to him, his weapon in her hand. She raised the gun to her head and, this was the most horrible thing, the thing he had never told anyone about that night, she smiled at him. Just before she pulled the trigger, she smiled.
The scene played out in slow motion. He leapt toward her. The sound of the shot reverberated through the room, deafening him. He fell down beside her. He grabbed her arm, tried to find a pulse. He held her head in his lap, her blood covering him, saturating him with the smell of copper and salt, a rank smell that turned his stomach.
