An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
My Shadow, My Love
ISBN #1-4199-0678-X
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
My Shadow, My Love Copyright© 2006 Sharon Horton
Edited by Nicholas Conrad.
Cover art by Syneca.
Electronic book Publication: July 2006
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing Inc., 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502.
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
My Shadow, My Love
Sharon Horton
Dedication
For Mom and Dad—I miss you.
I would also like to acknowledge my wonderful husband, Bruce, for his continued support of me and my writing. To Auntie Bettie for her love and kindness toward everyone, even ladybugs. To my trusted writing friend and confidant, Robin Albert. And finally to Nick Conrad, the generous and encouraging editor who helped turn my manuscript into this book.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Magnum: Smith & Wesson Inc.
Chapter One
Knock, knock. Who’s there?
“Good question,” Cassie Dahlgren answered herself.
She was just raising her hand to knock on a door as dark as her heart felt when a loud crash followed by a low growl ripped through her. Was it man or beast behind the door? She lightly tapped four times and then stood back.
“I’m busy!” a voice barked.
“Man and beast,” Cassie whispered and knocked again.
Another growl sounded just before the door snapped open to reveal its occupant. He was tall, handsome and mad.
“I told you I’m busy! Oh, I’m sorry,” the man’s irritated, yet velvety voice softened. “I thought you were someone else. Come in. My name’s Rick Jarrett—well, Mr. Jarrett, I guess you should call me.”
As Cassie followed Rick Jarrett inside his office, she held her breath. This whole process would be difficult enough as it was, but if she had to spend much time with this yelling nut, she’d never make it. Even if he did make Cary Grant look like a duck. Nevertheless, she was in for the duration and knew any decisions would not be her own for quite some time.
“Over there is the typewriter,” Rick said, pointing around the room before turning his attention back to Cassie. “You can see the computer, and the file cabinet is behind the door. But the most important thing you need to know is how to use that.” This time he pointed at a coffeemaker. Mistaking Cassie’s look of bewilderment for defiance, he frowned. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re one of those ‘I don’t do coffee’ kind of secretaries. Good God, that’s all I need, a stubborn kid with an attitude.”
The phone rang. Rick answered it. “Jarrett! No, no one’s here yet, just a kid clerk who can’t make coffee. Hang on a minute.” Placing his hand over the phone, Rick cast a scowl at his unintended secretary. “Honey, it’s real easy, just pour the water in the top and add the coffee, just be sure to open the package first.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned his attention back to the phone. “Go ahead, Martin. What? Hell, I don’t know, a skinny girl with a ponytail, why? What!”
The gulping sound was almost as funny as the look on his face when Rick turned back to Cassie. She was seated now in front of his desk and her expression was all he needed to assure him he’d made a mistake, and a big one at that. “I’ll call you back, Martin,” he said quietly, then hung up the phone.
When he’d taken a deep breath, Rick folded his arms and looked almost serene. “You could have told me you were the girl Martin Harris was sending up before I made a fool out of myself.”
“Well, I doubt that could have been prevented, Mr. Jarrett,” Cassie said sweetly, but without sincerity. Handing him a file folder she cast him a glare. “And you’re wrong, I can make coffee, but I think you’ve had more than you need for one lifetime, don’t you?”
Only raising a brow in response, Rick sat at his desk and opened the folder. Instantly, his expression changed from smirking to dead serious.
After reading the pages carefully, he finally looked up at the young woman who’d gone from presumed secretary to possible key witness in a matter of minutes.
He stared openly at Cassie. Her long reddish-brown hair combined with dimples and soft brown eyes made her a physical beauty, but she held something inside that disturbed him. It wasn’t a bad feeling, yet it was enough to ignite his instincts—and his fears. Finally, he leaned forward.
“So, talk to me, Miss Dahlgren. Tell me your version.”
“My version?” Cassie pointed to the file. “You just read my version.”
“I read that you’re a twenty-three-year-old rookie cop, who alleges to have witnessed Luther Carstairs shoot one of his jockeys. In front of the local DA.”
“Alleges?” Cassie asked, aghast. “You mean you don’t believe me? You think I made all of this up just to perjure myself in court?”
Rick’s brow knotted. “At this point, I don’t know what to believe. You witness a murder, but instead of reporting it immediately, you wait two days then travel six hundred miles only to get yourself arrested for releasing bags of ladybugs in a hardware store. I can’t help thinking if your story was true, you would have reported it.”
“I got arrested so someone would listen to me. And I did try to report it sooner, but because I happened to go in on April Fool’s Day they thought I was joking and they threw me out.”
“That’s because they’re not fools.”
Immediate understanding shot through Cassie and she sprang to her feet. “You think I’m making this up? Go find yourself another witness then, Mr. Jarrett. I didn’t come here to play a game, I came to stop one, but the game I’m stopping doesn’t have any winners. It only has losers who aren’t strong enough to play and end up dead! Like Eddie James did.”
“Sit down,” Rick ordered through gritted teeth. “As a police officer you should have better patience.”
Cassie thumped back in the chair. “And as a police officer, you should have better manners.”
Rick grinned and leaned forward. Fingers splayed across the desk, his smile vanished. “I’m not a police officer.”
Cassie gulped. That’s right he wasn’t a cop. None of the people she’d met in the last few hours were. They worked with law enforcement, but they weren’t the police. They were what Martin Harris called his Technicians. At least they’d been more receptive to her story. Yet it was obvious this guy wasn’t going to take her seriously, and Cassie knew why.
Even at the ripe old age of twenty-three she looked much younger. She would have to fight to
gain the confidence of this suspicious non-police officer. But why should she care if he believed her? She already hated this man in front of her. Hated his thick brown hair and sparkling gray eyes and that deep cleft in his chin made her want to scream. She hated him, all right, she just knew it. She also lied to herself a lot.
“Everything in the file is true, Mr. Jarrett. From my position I couldn’t hear anything other than the gunfire, but I saw Luther pump four rounds into Eddie James’ stomach and then put a bullet through the heads of three of his own horses. And the whole time, the District Attorney just stood there as silent as,” Cassie’s voice cracked, “I was.”
“And you believe he’s a coconspirator?”
“He has to be. I waited those two days before going to the authorities because I thought there must be a logical and legitimate reason he’d stood by and watched what he did. But when Eddie’s body and the dead horses disappeared, and the police never showed up, I knew something was wrong. And that’s why I’m here.”
“Yeah, six hundred miles from where you say this all happened, and another hundred and fifty miles from where you say you’re employed as a police officer.” Rick shook his head. “And you wonder why no one believes you?”
“Your boss believes me!” Cassie snapped.
“That’s because you mentioned Luther Carstairs. He’s been a thorn in Martin’s side for two decades, and that’s why when you finally did go to the police, they brought you to Martin. I doubt they believed the DA’s involvement, but every cop in California knows of Martin’s obsession with Luther. Every cop, that is, except you apparently.”
Cassie yanked the file from Rick’s hand. “Read this again, Mr. Jarrett. I never said I was an employed police officer. I didn’t know who Luther Carstairs was because I hadn’t actually started working as a cop yet. And whatever infamous celebrity he enjoys in this state didn’t travel to where I grew up before moving to it. All I can tell you is, eight months ago, five of us made it through the academy just as the city got hit with cutbacks. So until further notice I took the only other job I was qualified for—working with horses. That’s why I worked in Luther’s racing stable, in a city a hundred and fifty miles away from there, and six hundred miles from here.”
Convinced by her words, Rick held up his hands. “Okay, maybe I rushed to judgment. But try to see this from my point of view. If what you’re saying is true, there’s a corrupt District Attorney, working with or for a man no law enforcement agency has been able to indict for the past twenty years, until now. And it’s all hanging on a word of a stable girl who went through the police academy? You do the math. I’m not sure this case of two and two will add up to four.”
“Are you afraid it will or it won’t, Mr. Jarrett?”
Rick’s mouth gaped open. “You don’t believe I want justice?”
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Cassie lowered her head. Now what? Other than telling him he smells good, what should I say? She was spared finding an answer when Rick moved to stand directly in front of her.
Hovering over her, Rick waited for Cassie to look up at him. When she did, he smiled. “I’m sorry, I don’t think you’re lying. Martin wouldn’t have sent you to me if your story weren’t true. I know that. So, do you know what’s in store for you?”
“I’ve a pretty good idea,” she answered meeting his intense gaze. “Luther will stop at nothing to keep me from testifying, right?”
“Yeah, but I’m… We’re not going to let that happen.” No matter Cassie’s attitude, her courage was another attribute he found himself admiring. “First, I need to know Luther’s whereabouts. The file says he’s out of town?”
Nodding, Cassie answered, “The day after the murder, he was scheduled to go on a buying trip in Nevada for a few days. He won’t be too long since I’m not with him.”
“What do you mean by that?” Rick’s gut clenched. “Doesn’t he trust you?”
Cassie shook her head. “No, that’s not it. Luther likes to keep watch over me.”
“I’ll bet he does,” Rick mumbled.
“It wasn’t like that. Luther’s always been a gentleman toward me. He’s protective, though, because I’m the only woman working at the stable. So, whenever I’m not with him, he worries, that’s all. But he’s never had any reason not to trust me. Until now.”
“Because you’re gone,” Rick said.
“Yes, because I’m gone. And,” Cassie’s lips twisted into a smile, “so is the gun.”
“The gun? The file doesn’t say anything about a…” Rick’s eyes widened. “The murder weapon? You have the murder weapon?”
“Not on me, but yes, I have the murder weapon. Complete with Luther’s prints and blood spatters. Luther didn’t bother to clean it before he left. He’s pretty confident about his security. At least he was.” Her smile increased, Cassie stared directly into Rick’s amazed but unwavering eyes. “The gun was my ace in the hole in case no one believed my story.”
Rick pushed the file aside and closed his eyes. After a long moment, he looked back to Cassie. “Miss Dahlgren, you’ve just made my day. Hell, you’ve made my whole year.”
Though Cassie remained silent, Rick noted she’d physically relaxed. She also gained color in her cheeks. It looked good. Halting further assessment of Cassie, he cleared his throat. “All right, we know Luther will be wanting to find you. What about anyone else? Do you have any relatives nearby where Luther might look for you?”
Cassie shrugged. “There’s just my father up in Washington, and with his schedule it isn’t uncommon for him and me to go a good two months without talking to each other. And also, I asked him not to call me at work if he could avoid it. As I said, Luther likes to keep watch over me and I didn’t want Dad to worry if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, I know exactly what you mean. Okay, we’ll get you safe right away then. I’ll explain the basics to you. Your life isn’t going to be your own for a while,” he said, his gray eyes piercing through her.
“I know that, Mr. Jarrett,” Cassie whispered, accepting his gaze. “Please, let’s just get this moving so I can get on with my life. Or find a new one.” Her eyes lowered immediately.
“Okay,” Rick said leaning back. “First we get you out of sight. Then you’ll play the longest waiting game of your life, until we pick up Luther, although it shouldn’t take too long. Once Luther’s back home and served with a warrant, the preliminary hearing should move pretty swift.” He grabbed a pencil. “Now, on to paperwork. Your full name is Cassie Dahlgren?”
“Sort of.”
“Sort of? What’s that mean?”
“My mother wouldn’t let my father put my real name on the birth certificate.”
“Your real name?” Rick frowned. Now that he believed the luck of this young woman walking in with incriminating evidence against Luther Carstairs to be genuine, her remark was unsettling. “Cassie’s not your real name? If you lied about that then what else… I’m sorry. What’s Cassie short for?”
Lifting her head high, Cassie made a grumbling noise before proudly stating her originally intended name. “Cassiopeia.”
The sound of laughter filled the room and Cassie’s ears. A moment later the sound of the door slamming filled Rick’s ears.
* * * * *
Richard Kellen Jarrett knew he had traits which, depending on one’s point of view, could be good or bad. He liked to do things his way. Had it not been for his superior way of delivering near-perfect assignments, he would have been terminated years ago. However, his lack of respect for authority was made up for by his appreciation of good versus evil. Rick breathed truth. This became his trademark after he took out an ad in the local newspaper to indicate the whereabouts of his brother to the man’s ex-wife. The brother had been shirking responsibilities. Rick hated deadbeats.
Despite his faults, being stupid was not one of them and Rick knew he’d better find the girl named after a constellation before she did something stupid. The sudden image of her running out of the
building and into the clutches of Luther Carstairs brought him to his feet and to the door where he crashed into a man just entering the room.
“Whoa!” the man said, pointing down the hall. “Was that fireball our new witness, or are you breaking in another secretary?”
“Get out of my way, Steve!” Rick cursed as he entered the empty hallway.
Damn, Rick thought, the stairs. He’d have to run down eleven flights to beat the elevator. But, when he pushed open the door to the stairwell he stopped. Cassie stood in front of the window. A window in a stairwell. His office had no windows, but the stairwell did.
She knew he was there, but she didn’t turn around. She only stared straight ahead as Rick walked up next to her. Her voice was steady, but the underlying tone of fear was present all the same. “I can’t go out there anymore, can I?”
“Not for a while and never alone,” Rick acknowledged. “And don’t you ever run out on me again!” He was angry, but didn’t understand why he was so angry. When Cassie jumped at his outburst he realized he’d grabbed her shoulders. Letting go, he stepped back. “Look, Miss Dahlgren, you came to me for help, but I can’t help you if you pull childish tricks. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand,” Cassie snapped. “And I’m not being childish. I didn’t actually leave, did I? But, I didn’t come here to be insulted either.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings by laughing at your name. I only…”
“My name? That’s what you thought, that I ran out because you laughed at my name?”
“Didn’t you?” Rick asked in surprise.
“No,” Cassie whispered. “You acted again like you didn’t believe me. Mr. Jarrett, I swear I’m not involved with Luther Carstairs. He killed Eddie and those horses and—” Pausing to take a ragged breath, she was silenced by Rick’s hands back on her shoulders. They felt wonderfully strong.
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