“Does anyone other than you have a key to your house or has there been anyone who would have had access while you weren’t home?” he asked.
“No, but last month, I come home from work early. I coulda swore I heard someone in the back of the trailer. When I went to look there weren’t no one.”
“Did you check to see if any doors or windows had been tampered with?” Cash prompted.
“Ya know, now that I think ‘bout it,” she walked over to the only window in the room. “It rained some the next night, and when I went ‘round makin’ sure all the windows were closed, this one was cracked open.”
“Was that unusual?”
“Yes, I never open that window.”
“Did you notify the authorities?”
“Naw, nothing went missing.”
“Except the pendant.”
“Who would want that old thing? It weren’t expensive, just a five an’ dime charm.”
“Maybe Katie’s killer wanted it back so he could give it to someone else?” Rebel mused out loud.
“Are you sayin’ mah daughter’s killer was in mah house?”
“No, ma’am,” Cash said quickly to reassure her. “I’m sure it wasn’t anything like that. Miss Rebel has a case of diarrhea mouth.” Cash glared at Rebel who sheepishly shrugged.
“If I showed you a picture of the pendant, could you identify it as hers?” Cash asked Mrs. Burkhart as he followed her out of the room and back into the small living room.
“Yes.”
“Rebel would you please go out to the car and bring in a picture of the pendant?”
“No—I—you go get it, Detective,” Mrs. Burkhart said, paling considerably.
Cash opened his mouth to tell her she had nothing to fear by being alone with him for three minutes, but that was wasting time.
He quickly exited and returned with the picture of the pendant. After Mrs. Burkhart positivity identified the pendant as her daughter’s, Cash said to the lonely woman, “If it will make you feel better, ma’am, I’ll call the sheriff’s office and have them come dust for prints and take a statement. They can keep an eye out for you.”
“I’d appreciate that, Detective Cantrell.”
Cash didn’t say a word to Rebel as he opened the car door for her; he’d wait until there was no possibility of being overheard. She gave him a jaundiced look that would put Mrs. Burkhart to shame. She knew what was coming. He was surprised she wasn’t already defending herself.
“Rebel, you don’t have much of a filter do you?” Cash railed at her as soon as they turned onto 221. “Telling Mrs. Burkhart the killer was in her house was as genius as using one, two, three, four as your pass code!”
“Are you insinuating I’m thick?”
“As mud. Can’t believe you said that!”
“Can we stop and get something to eat? I’m as hungry as bear just outta hibernation.”
“Don’t ignore me. You need to keep your thoughts to yourself. Promise to keep your mouth shut and only your eyes and ears open.”
She turned all defiant on him. “Well, I was right. That son of a gun came back and stole that pendant he gave Katie for his next not girlfriend, Jami!”
Jesus, the girl had a way of making a case out of a coincidence. “Look up the name of Katie’s roommate.”
“Why?” Rebel asked as she dug through the files and pulled the report with her name and contact info.
“She might know of any unwanted suitors of Katie’s.”
“Lisa Richards. Her parents live in Hickory. The number’s here.”
Cash dialed the number Rebel gave him and left a message when it went to voice mail.
“Did Jami have a roommate?”
“No, she was lucky to have the dorm room to herself.”
“I had Officer Bacone secure her room this morning. My intention had been to stop there after I spoke to the Prebes, but I got sidetracked. I’ll take a look when we get back. Maybe the pendant will turn up there, along with some answers.”
“I think the killer took it when he killed her. For his next not girlfriend.”
“I’m going to agree with you on that.”
“Maybe you should put a wanted poster with a picture of the charm on it and a reward and see who comes forward with information.”
“That’ll send the killer underground. We keep that to ourselves.” Cash looked hard at Rebel. “We clear on that?”
“Crystal clear, Detective. Can we eat now?”
Chapter Eight
“Wake up, Johnny Reb.”
Someone shook her. Rebel woke with a start, confused, and uncertain where she was. Instinctively, however, she knew the voice and the hand belonged to Cash.
“We’re in front of your place. Go on in and get some sleep.”
Rebel yawed and stretched. As the day’s events came flooding back to her, she shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms. “How’d you know where I live?”
“I’m a detective,” he drawled, the fatigue heavy in his voice.
And her stomach growled. She pouted, but more because she didn’t want to leave him yet. “I’m hungry. You said we’d stop for something to eat.”
Cash grasped and ungrasped the steering wheel. “I never said—” He dug into his pocket, pulled out his wallet and dug for some cash, then handed her a twenty. “Order a pizza, on me.”
Rebel scowled. That wasn’t what she had in mind. “I don’t want your money or a pizza.”
“Take the money and order something else then.”
“You have to eat too, Cash. We’ll eat together and talk about the case.”
He shook his head. “No more of that. I shouldn’t have let you in on as much as I did.”
Rebel sat back in the seat and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well you did, and I’m not going to let you just push me out.”
“I had a momentary lapse of judgment, Rebel. I’m tired; I have a killer running around my town, and I want to catch him. Without your help.” He leaned across her and opened the door. “Now go.”
“Why’re you pushing me away?”
“Please, Rebel, just go.”
“Alright, Detective Cantrell.” Rebel opened the door and slid out. She closed the door soundly behind her and walked up the path to the little attic apartment she rented. The scared little girl in her wanted to turn and run into his arms. But the woman in her scoffed at such nonsense. A girl had her pride. She never once looked over her shoulder, not even when she heard his car drive off.
She walked around to the side of the house and dug the key out of the rose planter, then climbed up the two flights of the outside staircase that hugged the old Victorian style home. Mrs. Pontif, a widower and her landlady, had invited her to move into the main part of house, but Rebel had politely declined. She knew Mrs. Pontif was lonely and was fishing for a companion. Rebel was too busy with her studies and tutoring to be tied down babysitting an elderly lady. But that didn’t mean she didn’t visit with her at least twice a week.
She unlocked the door at the top of the wooden stairway, closed it, then locked it behind her. It was well after nine o’clock and any place that delivered would be closed on a Sunday. The only place open this late would be Liddy’s. It was just a few blocks away, but Rebel was too exhausted to walk the short distance.
She dug through her little icebox and turned up a freezer-burned Dreamsicle, an old frozen banana and a few crackers in the cabinet. She peeked into the one canister she owned and shook her head. “Not even a teaspoon of coffee.”
She kicked off her sandals and flopped on her bed. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d gone to bed hungry. If she didn’t do her shopping more regular, it probably wouldn’t be the last, either. And really, in the scope of her world at the moment, who cared about food when her friend was dead.
She looked forlornly around the small room that served as her living space. The entire apartment was just one room with a tiny bathroom in the corner. It was cozy and she felt safe here. Her bed
was nothing more than a futon, which she usually kept open. She did most of her studying and socializing at school. This place was for sleeping and showering. And never had she felt more alone in it than she did at that moment.
She pulled her cellphone from her back pocket and called gran.
“Gone fishin’,” was all gran’s voicemail greeting said.
Rebel hung up without leaving a message. She slid the cellphone into her bra and closed her eyes. Her stomach growled from hunger and it still hadn’t recovered from last night’s drinking binge. She’d felt queasy all day. The saltines she’d eaten earlier had helped, but she still felt sick. She wasn’t much of a drinker to begin with, but last night she’d finally let her hair down and jumped into the fun, feet first.
Now, she was paying for it. But the aftermath of tequila shots wasn’t all that was messing with her innards. That detective… Cash… well, he wasn’t helping matters any. He made her all flushed and fidgety one minute, then angry and contrary the next. He treated her like she was a two-year-old! Wasn’t her fault she wasn’t a woman of the world. She was gently raised with manners and boundaries. Maybe she was a little backward when it came to romance, but that didn’t mean she should be treated like a child just because she was twenty-two. Why, many of the girls she ran with at school had had multiple love affairs by the time they graduated, many with older men, some even with their professors.
Rebel opened her eyes and stared at the slanted beamed ceiling feeling sorry for herself. But the vision of Jami’s body lying there all bloody and dead seeped in and she suddenly felt selfish. Tears leaked out of her eyes. “Oh, Jami, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I should have been there. I should have been there.”
The roof above her creaked. Rebel didn’t give it much mind. The old house had more creaks and sighs than an old woman. When it creaked again, like someone was walking on it, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. There was no confusing the footsteps that were crossing from the back of the house toward her door with the settling of an old house. And the lock on her door wouldn’t keep out a fly.
Rebel bolted. She flung the door open and about flew down the wooden stairs then along the side of the house faster than she had ever run in her life. She pulled her phone from her bra and tried to dial 9-1-1 as she ran for the street, but stumbled and fell on the sidewalk. The phone went flying, breaking into several pieces. She looked over her shoulder and saw a large shadow hop from the roof above her apartment to the stairwell.
She got up and ran.
Cash pulled up in front of the PD and turned off his car. He made no move to get out. His stomach growled. He had a mother of a headache, and the vision of Rebel’s big brown eyes staring at him like he’d just killed her kitten ate at him.
“Damn it all to hell!” he shouted, slamming the heels of his hands on the steering wheel. He had no time for this. No stomach for breaking a young heart. He knew all too well how those deep cuts could bleed for years. But—son of a bitch! He turned the key, abruptly put his car in reverse and drove back to the multi-colored Victorian with the white picket fence.
As he turned right on Primrose, he hit the brakes. “Holy—” Rebel was running like a crazed lunatic down the middle of the street straight at him. He slammed the car into park and got out. “Rebel? What the hell are you—” he said, grabbing her.
“The killer, he’s at my house, he was—”
Cash scooped her up in his arms, dumped her in the front seat of his car and got behind the wheel and hit the accelerator. “Did he hurt you?”
“No, I got out before he could get me. But as I was running, I could see the shadow of him jump from the roof to the landing of my doorway.”
“Did you get a good look at him?”
“No,” Rebel shivered. “It was too dark. I could just make out the outline of someone tall.”
He pulled up in front of the Victorian. It was dark and quiet, the street lamp burning low. “Rebel, I’m going to take a look. You stay in the car. Lock the door when I get out.”
“What if the killer has a gun and shoots the window to get to me?”
“Use the shotgun and shoot him back.”
“But what if I can’t shoot him in time?”
“Then scoot over to the driver’s seat and run the bastard over before he can shoot you.”
“Ok. I can do that,” she said scrambling into the seat he just vacated.
Cash drew his weapon and said, “Lock the door and don’t come out until I come for you.”
In the back of his mind, Cash knew she wouldn’t listen. She didn’t understand the concept of following a simple command. He prayed this once she would.
Cautiously, he made his way down the sidewalk then around the side of the house. He looked up the wooden stairway. No lurking killer. Alert, carefully, he walked up. The door to her apartment was wide open.
“Police,” he shouted. He rushed in with his weapon at the ready. He cleared the small room and bathroom in less than five seconds. He turned to holster his gun and stopped dead in his tracks. There, on Rebel’s pillow, was Katie Burkhart’s heart pendant with a red fresh Mr. Lincoln rose lying beside it.
“Oh, my God!” Rebel said from behind him. “I was next!”
Cash whirled around, furious she had defied him. Again. “I told you to wait until I gave you the all clear, damn it!”
“I was afraid. I felt like someone was watching me. I’m sorry.”
He resisted the urge to comfort her. It would only make her think it was ok to ignore his rules. “Rebel, I’m going to my car for my kit. Can you stay right here without touching a damn thing?”
“I’m going with you.”
She followed him down to the car and Cash about lost it. The trunk was open and the evidence bags he’d been carrying with him all day were gone.
He bent over, swiping his hand across his face and turned to throttle her within an inch of her life. “You left keys the in the car and now my evidence is gone!”
“I’m sorry, Cash. I—you think he’s watching us?” she asked, looking around them.
It was all Cash could do not to strangle her himself! He was a fool to have thought she would listen to him. And because of his incompetence, his evidence was gone! Not only would it make solving this case near impossible, but it could seriously jeopardize his job with the State Bureau of Investigation. Once they got wind of this, he may very well get dropped from their program.
He swiped his hand across his face a second time and glowered down at Rebel. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”
“I’m sorry, Cash. I was afraid.”
He inhaled deeply and let it out very slowly as he mentally counted to ten, then to twenty. Her safety was as important to him as it was her. For all he knew, the killer who seemed to be one step ahead of them would have killed her to get to the evidence.
“Please don’t hate me, Cash. I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”
“I’m going to take my kit upstairs and collect the pendant and rose. I want you to come with me and look around and let me know if there is anything missing or added or disturbed. Can you do that?”
“Yessuh.”
Less than an hour later, they were sitting at Liddy’s eating a late dinner. Cash didn’t have much to say and Rebel was unusually quiet.
“Did you lock up the evidence?” she quietly asked without looking up at him.
“Don’t you worry about what I did with it.”
Rebel picked at her sandwich while Cash sipped his coffee. He’d lost his appetite. So had she. He knew she felt terrible. But not even close to how terrible he felt. “My phone broke when I was running away. Can I borrow yours to call Mrs. Pontif and ask if I can stay downstairs with her tonight?”
He speared her with a glare. “You aren’t going back to that house tonight.”
“I don’t want to do that, either, Detective Cash, but I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
Cash narrowed his eyes at her and s
ipped his coffee. “I have a spare room.”
Her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink, and Cash felt his blood light up. He didn’t know what he wanted to do more at that moment, strangle her or kiss her. “It’s not going to be like that, Rebel. So don’t get any notions.”
“I already told you, Detective. I’m not that kind of girl.”
He sat his coffee cup down and leaned into her. “What kind of girl are you then? I mean you’ve made your attraction to me clear. You’ve been bold, in fact. Are you just a prick tease then?”
Rebel stiffened. “There’s no need to get crude.”
“I’m just a little pissed off right now, Rebel. And you’re at the root of all my frustrations at the minute, so I’m not going to apologize for saying what’s on my mind. You certainly don’t.”
“I understand you being all mad. I don’t blame you. But I didn’t do it on purpose, and as far as my flirtatiousness with you goes, I won’t lie and say my boldness is normal for me. It’s not, but I can afford to be bold with you because you have made it perfectly clear you won’t cross whatever line it is you’ve drawn.” She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. “So I feel safe in the knowledge that I can say exactly what’s on my mind without fear of having to deliver.” Her smile widened and she batted her eyelashes at him. “Besides, it’s good flirting practice for when I find a man who does find me attractive enough and smart enough to consider for a date and who I feel reciprocating feelings for.”
Damn it all to hell if he didn’t want to be that man. He cocked a brow and leaned slightly toward her. “What if I changed my mind?”
The flush in her cheeks deepened, but she leaned as much toward him as he did her. “Well then,” she softy said, her warm breath mingling with his, “I suppose I’d have to give your proposition some serious consideration.”
“There’s nothing for you to consider,” he said sitting back.
She mimicked his move. “You are a true gentleman, Detective.”
“Finish your sandwich. I have work to do.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You said you were.”
“I’m not anymore,” she said, pushing her plate away.
Guns and Roses Page 31
