“Yes!” Emma once again said gleefully.
“No,” Jamie said.
“What?” CC frowned. “We have boxes of the crap.”
“And according to your sister, that’s just what it is.”
“Cocoa Krispies, please?” Emma was not above begging. “Fruit Loops?”
“Uh, no.” CC was forced to decline. “There’s way too much sugar in those.”
“Which is why Stevie doesn’t want Emma eating cereal here,” Jamie explained.
“Can’t blame her for that.” CC had to agree. Nothing but high-octane sugar-laden junk lurked in the cupboard.
“Hey.” Jamie defended her actions. “I buy the kind that I like, since you don’t eat the stuff. Besides, they’re full of vitamins and calcium. It says so right on the box.” She held up a box of one of her favorite breakfast treats.
“And apparently they’re also magically delicious.” CC groaned. “Where is it you went to med school?”
“Cook for your niece. I need to take my shower.”
“I can handle it.” CC watched Jamie stomp off. “So, fruit?”
“I don’t like fruit.”
“Eggs?”
“I don’t like eggs.”
“Oatmeal?”
“I don’t like oatmeal.”
“You liked it last week.”
Emma sat there with her little arms folded across her chest. “Man, you are so much like your mother. Fine, how about French toast?” She was quickly running out of options.
“Yes, please.”
“Cool.” CC blew out a breath in relief.
“With caramelized bananas and a dusting of confectionary sugar,” Emma said with authority.
“Someone’s been watching the Food Network with Auntie Jamie.” CC began to prepare a simple version of French toast.
“You’re getting basic toast dipped in egg batter, Wolfgang.”
“Boring.” Emma sighed dramatically. “And I like Cat Cora.”
“Something else you got from Aunt Jamie.”
“Can’t wait until she’s a teenager,” Jamie said and chuckled
upon entering the kitchen. “Want me to take over?”
“No thanks, James.” CC smiled. “The coffee’s kicking in. Sorry I wasn’t swift on the uptake.”
“Auntie Caitlin won’t caramelize bananas for us,” Emma said
and scowled.
“Ogre.” Jamie snickered.
“She shouldn’t be able to pronounce half those things much less request them for breakfast.” CC placed a simple breakfast in front of the little critic.
“I’m not the o ne who lets her watch Court TV,” Jamie said.
“It’s not called that anymore. And I only let her watch because I was on it. She wanted to know what I did.”
“Yes, letting a seven-year-old know what you do at your job is brilliant.”
CC looked over at her wife and tried to figure out just what she had done to tick her off? The tension was rolling off Jamie’s body. Then it hit her. Jamie wasn’t mad at her. She was upset by where CC had been. The trip was an ugly reminder that, someday, Simon could be free.
“It went okay.”
“So you said when you called.” Jamie’s response was gruff. “Sorry.” She shook her head. “It’s not you, it’s—”
“I know.”
CC set down her coffee mug and wrapped her arms around the woman she loved. She rested her head against Jamie’s. She released a terse sigh when she felt Jamie’s tension easing. CC had learned a long time ago sometimes the best thing to do was say nothing. She held her wife, enjoying the feel of her body pressed against her own. If they had been alone, things might have progressed further. Yet, with Emma sitting at the kitchen table, just holding Jamie was more than enough.
“Need me to stay home?” she asked when Jamie stepped out of her embrace. She was filled with a sense of relief when Jamie smiled up at her.
“No, I got my new kids starting today, but thank you.”
“Ah, new doctors.” CC nodded. “Well, scaring the bejesus out of the residents always puts a spring in your step.” CC was joking, but she understood the added tension this day caused. Simon had been one of Jamie’s students. At first she handled him the same way she handled all of her residents during their rotation. When it became clear that Simon had what everyone assumed was a crush on her, she made it clear that she wasn’t interested. That’s when the stalking began, and bodies started showing up. The hardest part of everything that had happened all those years ago was the tragic events had reunited Jamie and CC and would always be remembered.
“Maybe you should stay home.”
“You need me to?”
“No,” Jamie answered with a soft smile. “You just look beat.”
“Nah. I’m okay. It’s not like I’m going to do anything at work. I swear ever since Max decided to put in his paperwork, my work is limited to counting paper clips and watching him read about boats.”
“Boats?”
“Yeah, he’s decided that since he’s moving to Florida, he needs a boat. Started out as a small motorboat, and now he’s looking at yachts.”
“I know you’re bored,” Jamie carefully began to say. “But I’m
not about to complain that you’re out of harm’s way for the next few months.”
“Peace and quiet. You’d think I’d enjoy it.” CC kissed Jamie on her cheek and turned. She was horrified when she spied her precious niece. “What is she wearing?” She wasn’t at all pleased to hear her wife snickering behind her.
“It’s my new baseball cap,” Emma boasted while sucking down her breakfast.
“It’s an Orioles hat.”
“Auntie Jamie gave it to me. Do you like it?”
“Uh, sure.” CC was unable to believe what she was seeing. “James? It’s an Orioles hat.”
“I know.”
“But this is Boston.”
“And the Orioles are my hometown team.”
“I know. But, seriously, the other kids will pick on her.”
“Oh, please. They don’t even pick on little Jorge, who wears a Yankees hat.”
“That’s just wrong.”
“Caitlin. Emma, likes her hat. I know you’re a die-hard Red Sox fan. If your season tickets hadn’t clued me in, your collection of fifty some odd T-shirts would have tipped me off. I on the other hand was raised in Maryland.”
“We aren’t even married in Maryland.”
“Not yet. Emma, do you like your new hat?”
“Yes! It has orange and black.”
“Fine.” CC reluctantly caved in. “Change is good, I guess.”
Jamie rolled her eyes.
“What? I’m agreeing.” CC stole another cup of coffee. She knew Jamie didn’t believe her. CC was already formulating a plan to get rid of the hat.
“Oh, before I forget, this came yesterday.” Jamie handed her a Ziploc bag with a greeting card sealed inside. “Probably nothing, but I thought you’d like to see it.”
“Happy Father’s Day.” CC stared at it feeling completely confused. “Trying to tell me something?”
“It came for Stevie yesterday. No return address and no signature,” Jamie said. “Just the card.”
“I’ll have one of the lab guys take a look.” CC was still trying to understand the meaning behind the card. “Just in case any of our new neighbors aren’t as friendly as they pretend to be.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Emma, I took one of your Dalmatians,” CC said. She knew she shouldn’t boast. She was trying to teach Emma the importance of the game and how to be a gracious winner or loser. Plus she understood that learning the basic strategy of a chess match could be very beneficial for her niece’s learning skills. The days of allowing Emma to win had passed not long after she grasped the concept of chess. CC hoped that by understanding the game, Emma would be more prepared in life.
“I know.” Emma cleared her plate from the table. “C
heck.”
“Huh?”
“Check.”
Her almost bored tone irked CC just a little.
“I’m ready.” The imp shouldered her backpack.
CC flinched with pain when she stubbed her toe while trying to race over to the chessboard. She stared at the board, dumbfounded by what she was looking at. “Good move,” she finally managed to say. “Poison Pawn. I walked right into it.”
“You let her?” Jamie asked.
“No, don’t need to anymore. The kid is almost outplaying me.”
“She’s seven. How old was Stevie when she started to outplay you?”
“She isn’t outplaying me.” CC struggled to keep her voice low. “Stevie started outplaying me when she was about fifteen.”
“You taught me the move,” Emma said, alerting them that she could hear them. “I don’t want to be late. Sandy Holliston promised she was bringing something wicked cool for show-and-tell.”
“Great. She’s sassy and smarter than we are.” Jamie cringed. “Again, can’t wait till she’s a teenager.”
* * *
While CC was doing her best to wrap up breakfast and infuse more coffee into her weary body, Deputy Val Brown strode into a Connecticut police station dragging a sorry excuse for a human being behind her.
“Deputy Val Brown, US Marshal,” she announced and flashed her badge. “I believe you lost something.” She shoved Tommy Bigalow forward. “Turned up down in DC.”
“Heard you caught him,” the desk sergeant said and chuckled. “Bigalow, you pain in the ass. Next time we’ll let them keep you.”
“No, thanks.” Brown handed the sergeant the paperwork. “We have enough criminals in the capital.”
“Most of them were elected.”
“No kidding.” Val snickered as she handed over Tommy along with his paperwork. “He’s all yours. I just need to check in with the local field office.”
“Hey, I’m hungry,” Bigalow whined.
“Shut up.” Val smacked him on the back of the head. “Tommy, my boy, when you stop stealing little old ladies’ pension checks, you can dictate when you eat. In the meantime, pipe down, you little pissant.”
After having placed Tommy safely behind bars for at least another six months, she hoped, Val made her way over to the local US Marshal’s field office to drop off the last of the paperwork. She was looking forward to heading back to DC. More importantly, she was looking forward to a little downtime, alone in her cabin in Virginia. Just her, the peace and quiet, maybe a nice bottle of wine, and if she got lonely, she knew a bar where she could find companionship.
She shed the standard-issue black blazer, revealing her well- toned body. Mentally, she was counting down the time it would take to get back to DC. If she did it right, the trip would take less than ten hours. Checking out, another half an hour tops, and she’d be on the road.
She handed over the paperwork ready to beat feet out of the stuffy office when it happened. An agent was complaining about someone at the Boston field office not listening to a request for a BOLO. She tried not to pay attention. She had plans. Plans that, for the first time in her life, meant she could just kick back and chill. Then she heard them mention the fugitive was a child molester. She became slightly interested, yet still cautioned herself not to get involved. Related to a cop. Okay, slightly more interested. Then she heard the name Caitlin Calloway, and before she could stop herself, she opened her mouth and did the one thing that always led to trouble. She volunteered.
Chapter 3
CC made a couple of quick stops downtown, including a visit to one of her favorite forensic geeks, Dr. Corey McDowell. She gave Corey the odd greeting card after explaining that it had nothing to do with a case. She threw in a bribe of chocolate frosted cupcakes. That and a promise not to tell his wife he wasn’t sticking to his diet. Her bribes made him agree to run a few tests on the Father’s Day card. Once she completed her errands, she made her way over to the station.
Once she entered the station, she was eager to start her day.
“Another shooting last night,” she said to her partner, hoping for some kind of reaction.
“Gangbanger.” He gave a grunt without bothering to look up from the brochure he was reading. “Leave it to the task force.”
“Yeah, just like all the others.” CC plopped down in her chair.
“Not my fault,” Max said, still enthralled with his brochure.
“The only ones killing each other these days are gangs. That isn’t our turf.”
“Nothing seems to be our turf lately,” she said with disdain.
It was wearing on her. CC was accustomed to being active. Max’s new lack of ambition was taking its toll on her. She got it. He was getting short. A permanent vacation was looming on the horizon. It didn’t make sense to get hurt now.
On the other hand, she was still on the job. But he was the senior officer. If he said they didn’t move, they didn’t move. For the first time in her life, Caitlin Calloway understood that remaining idle was far more exhausting than busting her ass was. She looked over at Max, who at that moment, was happily flipping through brochures, ads, leaflets, and what-not for new boats.
She glanced at the stack of files to her right. “What about—”
“Domestic, murder-suicide. Once the forensics were in, we closed it. You did the paperwork on it before you left. You should be happy. For the most part, there is peace and harmony looming over our fair city. Enjoy the serenity.”
“I’ll give you serenity,” she muttered under her breath.
“Don’t.” Max barely peered over the boating magazine he was reading. “Keep this up, and you’ll jinx us. Next thing you know, we’ll get caught up in something convoluted and dangerous.”
CC grunted. It wasn’t helping her cause that most of the homicides in the Boston area were gang related or domestic. Just her luck that murder was on the rise, and the majority of them were turned over to the gang task force.
Her gaze returned to the stack of files. It was paperwork. For the first time since she began her career, it was completed paperwork. The fact should have made her happy. It didn’t. She rolled her shoulders, prepared for another day of nothing.
“Jamie gave Emma an Orioles hat.”
“So?” Max shrugged.
“She has a perfectly good Sox hat.” CC tried to defend her discomfort. “Not one of those pink ones either. Bought it for her myself.”
“She can have more than one hat.” Max furrowed his brow. “Leave the kid alone.”
“It’s just,” CC tried to settle down. “Never mind. Go back to finding the perfect fishing boat.” Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a curvy blonde. “Mulligan.” She greeted the smiling woman.
“Calloway.” Leigh Mulligan nodded in return. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Hah!” CC couldn’t resist barking out. Max had the bad manners to chuckle. “What brings you up here, Detective?”
“I have this case.” Mulligan started to offer a file to CC. “I could use a second opinion. If you have a moment, I’d appreciate a little help.”
“Beats the hell out of sitting here watching my arse grow,” CC quipped before tossing a pencil at Max.
“Missing persons isn’t our territory,” Max said. “But if you’re that bored, give Mulligan a hand. Share some of those superior detective skills I taught you.”
“You taught me?” She snapped open the file. “The only thing you taught me is where to find the best donuts. Eighteen-year-old nanny, missing for nine days.”
“Au pair from the UK,” Mulligan said. “Annie Fraser. Employer claims she just up and quit.”
“You don’t believe them?”
“No, I think she’s dead.”
“Go on.”
“Here’s the time line. Annie Fraser got up, fed the two Stern children, boys, just before seven. She had them dressed and out the door just after eight. Took them to preschool. Went to the library. Picke
d up the kids just after one in the afternoon. Walked them to the park. Walked them home, gave them a snack, and had them down for a nap around three. Then, according to the lady of the house, Mrs. Natalie Stern, she quit and walked out. That was on the twenty-seventh. She hasn’t been seen or heard from since. None of it makes any sense,” Mulligan said. “This kid talked to her parents at least three times a week. Then all of a sudden nothing.”
“How does she usually get in touch with them?”
“Skype.”
“Simple, easy, and free.” CC mulled over the information.
Skype was a great way to communicate. All the girl needed to chat with her parents was a computer and an Internet connection.
“Did she use the family computer or her own?”
“Her parents said she had a laptop,” Mulligan said. “They bought it for her before she left home so she could keep in touch with them. She also had a cell and a prepaid international calling card. But she mostly used Skype.”
“Where is the laptop?”
“I have no idea,” Mulligan said. “The family who hired her won’t let me check her room. The wife claims that Annie quit and she could care less where the little whore is.”
“Would that be a direct quote?” Max asked suddenly interested.
“Yes.”
“I can see why you’re concerned,” CC said. “Let me run this by the boss. If he’s okay with it, I’d like to check things out with you.”
“Thanks.”
She got up from her chair and cast a glance at Max, “Interested?”
“I’m busy.” He waved her off.
“Yeah, watching the clock ticking away must be exhausting.” CC charged over to Captain Rousseau’s office.
There was almost a spring in her step. She couldn’t believe how excited she was to finally have something to do. She had to remind herself that the case could turn into nothing. A teenager away from her family for the first time in a new city. Young Annie could have simply developed a case of wanderlust. But something about her employer’s reaction didn’t feel right. The most likely scenario was that the man of the house had crossed the line and the wife sent the girl packing. No need to bother with formalities when your marriage is at stake. Just kick the kid to the curb and be done with it.
Checkmate (Caitlin Calloway Mystery Book 2) Page 3
