by Sharon Sala
Rage borne of frustration made him want to destroy everything in sight, but that would be counterproductive to what he intended. All it would prove to the police was that he’d been thwarted; he wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction.
Instead he took a deep breath, slammed his fist into the palm of his other hand and headed for the door. Just as he stepped into the hallway, he heard footsteps coming down the stairwell. He stepped back into the apartment and closed the door, listening carefully until he was certain that whoever it was, was gone.
Now that the plan had changed, he was anxious to get away. He needed to find out where she’d gone and how long she was going to be gone. There were decisions to be made and places to go. Once this was over, he was ready to move on. He didn’t like this cold weather and was thinking about moving to a warmer climate. There were available women everywhere. It was just a matter of picking the right one.
He opened the door again, listening carefully to make sure he was alone, then slipped into the hall, taking care to lock the door behind him as he left. A few seconds later he was gone.
* * *
Scott woke up to the smell of coffee and bacon and then looked at his alarm clock. It was ten minutes after six. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d awakened before the alarm. But, he reminded himself, he hadn’t had anyone to wake up for except himself. He grabbed a pair of sweats and put them on as he headed for the bathroom. A few minutes later he came out smelling of aftershave and toothpaste, his hair still damp but neatly combed.
“Wow…this place has never smelled this good,” Scott said, and then kissed Kristie on the back of the neck.
Kristie leaned against him, savoring the feeling of being held.
“Still like your eggs well done?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am, that I do.” Then he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “I could get used to waking up like this.”
She smiled to herself. “Yeah, I know what you mean,” she said just as a timer went off.
“What’s that for?” Scott asked.
“Biscuits.”
He rolled his eyes and then groaned as she took them out of the oven.
“Have mercy, Kristie Ann. This isn’t playing fair, and you know it. I’m already putty in your hands.”
Kristie set the pan of biscuits on a hot pad and turned around.
“I’m not playing, Scotty. I’m serious. You may think this is too soon, but I’m going to say it, anyway. I’m falling in love with you all over again. If you don’t want that, just say so now and I’ll back off. We’ll call last night one for old time’s sake and when this is over, part as friends. But know this…it’s not what I want.”
The teasing smile on his face disappeared. He took her into his arms and laid his cheek against the softness of her hair.
“It’s not what I want, either, baby.”
Kristie leaned back and looked up. “What do you want, Scotty?”
“You.” His mouth brushed the surface of her lips. When she sighed, he swallowed the sound as well as her breath. “I’m falling in love with you, too, honey girl.”
“This is good,” Kristie said.
He grinned and then reached over her shoulder and snagged a hot biscuit from the pan.
“And so is this,” he said, taking a big bite.
She smiled. “Okay, okay, I get the message. You’re hungry.”
“Starving.”
“So pour us some coffee and I’ll fix the eggs. Everything else is done.”
He did as he’d been told, and by the time she had the food on the table, he knew something dramatic was beginning to happen. His apartment—the place he’d been paying rent on for a good number of years-was starting to feel like a home.
They ate the meal together with the ease of people who’d known each other for years. It was as if the time they’d been apart had never happened. It wasn’t until Scott was finishing his second cup of coffee that the phone rang. He glanced at Kristie and then shrugged an excuse as he went to answer the call.
“Wade,” he said.
“Hey, Scott, it’s me, Leslie. I thought you’d be interested to know we got a hit on that partial.”
Scott’s pulse kicked. It was the criminologist from forensics and she’d just given him a new lease on life.
“Tell me,” he said.
“His name is Andrew McMartin, last known address, Los Angeles, California.”
“Has he got a sheet?”
“Yes, but this is the biggie. There’s an open warrant for his arrest out of L.A.”
“What for?”
“Wanted for questioning in the death of a twenty-seven-year-old woman named Lucy McKee. It seems he’d been stalking her for almost six months, but they couldn’t make anything stick. Then she turns up dead and he’s missing.”
“When was this?”
“About six months ago.”
Scott turned to Kristie. “Honey, when did you tell me the first letters started arriving?”
“About four or five months ago.”
Scott’s focus heightened. The time line fit.
“Thanks, Leslie, I owe you.”
“I know. I won’t let you forget.”
He hung up and turned to Kristie. “Do you know a man named Andrew McMartin?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“Okay…he’s probably using another name anyway. I’ll get a mug shot and bring it home with me this evening. Maybe you’ll recognize him.”
“Oh, Scott! Could it be this easy?”
He grinned. “Sometimes we get lucky.”
“Do you know where he lives? What he does?”
“I don’t know anything yet, but I’ll start the ball rolling the minute I get to work.”
Then he frowned. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”
“I’ll be fine. I promise not to leave or to answer the door to anyone.”
“Yes…okay.” Then he reached for her, needing to hold her, if for no other reason than his own reassurance. “I don’t think anyone could possibly know that you’re here, but you know we can’t be sure.”
“I’m sure, Scott.”
He hesitated still. “Do you remember when you used to go rabbit hunting with me?”
She nodded.
“How long has it been since you fired a gun?”
Kristie’s eyes widened. “Since I last went with you.”
He frowned. “Okay…here’s the deal. I’m leaving you here alone, but not without protection.”
“You have a rifle in the apartment?”
He laughed. “No, it’s a pistol. Come with me. I’ll show you how to take off the safety. After that, just aim and fire.”
Kristie’s stomach lurched at the thought of shooting at someone, never mind killing them. And then she remembered the elevator and that horrible voice taunting her in the dark and knew that she’d do whatever it took to stay safe.
A few minutes later Kristie was on her own—except, of course, for the black, semiautomatic weapon that Scott had laid on the sideboard. She glanced at it several times as she finished cleaning up the kitchen. When she moved to the bedroom to make up the bed, she took it with her. Within a short time, she’d done all the chores and settled herself in the biggest overstuffed chair in the living room. She could tell from the imprint in the cushion that this must be Scott’s favorite chair. It was also in direct line to a big-screen television and a most amazing entertainment center.
Men and their toys, she thought as she turned on the TV. After settling on a program on the food network, she leaned back and put her feet up on the ottoman, then took a sip of the coffee she’d brought with her from the kitchen. Everything seemed ordinary—even normal—except, of course, for the gun she’d laid beside the remote.
* * *
By noon Scott felt as if he was caught in a whirlpool. They had all kinds of information on Andrew McMartin, including a four-year-old mug shot,
a rap sheet that had started when he was a teen, his last known address and the phone number and address of his only living relative, a woman named Frannie Howell who’s last known address was a Chicago suburb.
The only problem was that McMartin hadn’t been seen since he’d disappeared from L.A. They had no proof that he’d ever been in Chicago except for the fingerprint on the stamp and the Chicago postmark. It didn’t prove conclusively that he was here, but it was a good start toward building the case. In Scott’s opinion, he had to be near, or how else would he have fixated on Kristie?
He’d read the file on Lucy McKee’s murder, and it made him sick to his stomach all over again. He couldn’t help but transpose Kristie’s face onto the pictures taken from the crime scene. The brutality of the poor woman’s death was extreme, which only enforced the urgency of the department to find McMartin before he got to Kristie.
Lieutenant Fisk was on a mission to catch the stalker and had already put more detectives on the case. They were out now, trying to locate a woman named Frannie Howell, who had the distinction of being the only sister of McMartin’s deceased mother.
It was almost noon and Tucker had gone out to get himself and Scott some sandwiches from a nearby deli. While Scott was waiting, he picked up the phone and dialed the number to his own home. The answering machine picked up and he immediately began talking so that Kristie would know to pick up.
“Kristie…it’s me. Pick up, honey. I’ve got some more news.”
He waited, expecting to hear her voice, and was a little disconcerted when he didn’t. He knew there were any number of reasons why she hadn’t answered. Maybe she was in the bathroom or had the washing machine running. She’d teased him this morning about the pile of towels needing to be washed. That had to be it. He told himself he’d wait a bit and then call again. But the longer he waited, the more nervous he got.
Again he made the second call and again there was no answer. Frowning, he hung up and tried not to worry. She’d promised not to leave. He was certain she wouldn’t go out and take a chance on a repeat of yesterday’s event in the elevator. But if that was the case, then where the hell was she?
He stood abruptly and was reaching for his topcoat when Tucker came back with their food.
“Hey, Wade…I just heard a call on the radio. There’s a fire in the building next to your apartment. They’ve evacuated everyone in the buildings on either side.”
“Hell,” Scott said, and headed for the door, with Tucker right behind him.
Chapter 6
Kristie had been herded across the street with the rest of the apartment residents and was watching the arrival of the fire trucks in the same manner one watches an accident happening-in mounting horror but unable to look away. The intensity of the fire seemed to be growing and it appeared to her that nothing would save the building. The police had cordoned off the area, but onlookers were still gathering. Ever so slowly she was being pushed to the back of the crowd until she found herself sandwiched between the back of the building and a short, elderly woman holding a shopping bag full of groceries.
A stiff gust of wind whipped around the corner of the building in front of where the crowd was standing. Kristie shivered as she pulled the collar of her coat up around her neck and then huddled beneath the awning above them. Even though they were a block away from the fire, the wind blew the mist from the spray of the water hoses right in their faces.
If it wasn’t for the fact that Scott would panic, she would have already called a cab and gone to her own home. At least there she wouldn’t be so cold and wet.
Suddenly a dark blue car came speeding around the corner of the opposite street and stopped at the curb. Two men got out on the run, flashing their badges at the street cops who were guarding the area. When Kristie saw Scott she began to push her way through the crowd, trying to let him know where she was.
* * *
Scott’s heart was in his throat as he saw the flames coming out of the building next to where he lived. It had been under renovation for over a year and the owners were just about ready to start leasing apartments. He could only imagine the losses they were going to sustain. And while his sympathies were with the company who was suffering the loss, his concern was for Kristie. A quick glance of the area told him where the evacuees were being detained. He yelled at his partner over the noise of the trucks and sirens, then pointed toward the people on the opposite side of the street, indicating that that was where he was going. His partner nodded, then got back into the car, away from the wet and the cold.
Scott hadn’t gone more than ten feet when he caught a flash of red hair and saw Kristie break free of the crowd. She ducked under the yellow tape and ran toward him. A uniformed officer yelled and started to grab for her when Scott waved his badge and called out an okay. The officer grinned and nodded as Kristie jumped into Scott’s outstretched arms.
Scott held her close, feeling the dampness on her hair and face, and guessed she was probably freezing. He gave her a big hug and a quick kiss and then held her at arm’s length, just to assure himself that she was really okay.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded. “Just cold.”
“Come with me,” he said. “You can sit in the car with Tucker until we figure out what to do.”
He sheltered her under his arm and started walking her toward the car, unaware that the on-the-spot reporter had recognized him or that their reunion had been witnessed and broadcast live.
“I tried to call you,” she said. “But they wouldn’t let us linger in the building. All I managed to get was my purse and coat.”
“I tried to call you a couple of times and when I didn’t get an answer, I got worried. Then Tucker came in and told me what was going on.”
When they reached the car, Tucker jumped out and shook her hand.
“Hello, Kristie. We spoke briefly on the phone earlier. I’m Scott’s partner, Paul Tucker, but you can call me Tucker.”
Kristie smiled. “Nice to meet you, Tucker.”
“Get in the front with Scott,” Tucker said. “I always wanted to be a back seat driver.”
The interior of the car was warm and still, a welcome relief from the sharp wind and cold mist coming off the water from the hoses. She leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes as a shiver engulfed her.
“Honey?”
She turned to look at Scott. “What?”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes…just so cold. I can’t feel my toes.”
“Kick off your shoes,” he said. “I’ll turn up the heater.”
Kristie did as he asked and moments later felt a rush of hot air on her chilled body.
“Oo-oh, that feels heavenly,” she said. “Thanks.” Then she glanced toward the building that was completely engulfed. “Those poor people.”
“At least no one was living there, and they’re bound to be insured. It’s the buildings on either side of it that I’m worried about.”
Kristie leaned forward, her hands clasped around her knees.
“Do you think we’ll be allowed to go back into the building tonight?”
“Who knows?” he said, then glanced back at his partner. “Stay with her, okay? I’m going to see what I can find out.”
Tucker nodded.
As Scott was closing the door, he heard Tucker asking Kristie if she had any sisters. He grinned. Tucker had been divorced twice already, but was a hopeless romantic and always ready to give love another try.
Kristie watched Scott move through the melee of firemen and emergency personnel and knew she was blessed to have him on her side, as well as back in her life.
“You’re pretty gone on him, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
Tucker chuckled. “You don’t mince words, either, do you?”
“No.”
“Good girl. If my second wife had been more like you, we’d still be together. Although I’m not going to say anything bad about her becau
se she’s just recovering from an appendectomy.”
“Ouch,” Kristie said as she smiled to herself. She could really like this man. She just hoped they found her stalker so her life could get back to normal.
“For what it’s worth,” Tucker said, “I’ve been partners with Scott for over seven years and I have never seen him this gone over a woman.”
“We grew up together,” Kristie said.
Tucker leaned over the seat, his voice high with excitement.
“You’re kidding! He didn’t tell me that. All I knew was that he’d picked up your case the day I was gone. I thought…well, never mind what I thought.”
There were a few moments of silence and then Kristie heard Tucker mumble, “So you’ve known each other a long time.”
The warmth of the heater warmed Kristie’s bones, but it was the truth of what Tucker had said that warmed her heart. It felt as though she’d known Scott forever, even though she’d lost track of him for those years, but their time apart had only made their reunion that much sweeter.
She looked up just as Scott came jogging toward the car.
“He looks soaked,” Kristie said.
“He’ll dry. He’s tough, you know,” Tucker said.
Kristie eyed the length of his stride and the arrogant tilt of his chin, and smiled. He might be tough in the world, but in bed, he was as tender as they came.
“They are going to let people back into the buildings within the hour,” Scott said.
“Okay…I can wait around until—”
Scott grabbed her arm. “No way, honey. You’re coming with us. We’re off duty in about four hours. We’ll come back together.”
“But won’t your boss mind if—”
Tucker piped up from the back seat. “Shoot no, the lieutenant won’t care. He’s the one who sicced Scott onto your case to begin with.”
