Kitabı oku: «One Good Man», sayfa 2

Chapter Two

“Cassandra, dear, you know I have only your best interests at heart.”

Casey switched the telephone receiver to her left ear to mask her frustrated sigh, and wondered why Jimmy’s reassurance made her feel silly instead of safe. “But, Jimmy, why did you send the police here out of the blue last night? You know how I feel about—” she paused to find a word to emphasize just how frightened she’d been “—strangers.”

James Reed made an exasperated sound, and she could envision him checking his watch on the other end of the line. “Mitch isn’t just any cop. He’s one of the three finalists I’m looking at to name as my assistant next year. He’s a good man.”

He’s a force to be reckoned with, thought Casey.

She rested her forehead in her hand and massaged the tension in her scalp. She hadn’t slept well at all, and it wasn’t just because of the pain radiating through her right hip and up into her back from the exertion of wrestling with the man. His broad shoulders and stocky chest beneath that tailored wool coat, and his stubborn attitude, made her think of a gladiator in a suit and tie.

A fearsome opponent. A formidable ally. But last night she hadn’t been able to decide whose side of the ring he fought for.

“I don’t care if he’s Eliot Ness. Why did you send him here?”

A double dose of aspirin and a hot pad had dulled the physical ache to a tolerable level. But her mind had raced through to the early hours of the morning trying to pinpoint why Mitch Taylor’s unexpected visit had left her feeling so edgy.

Perhaps it was his voice. That deep, masculine sound had held too much challenge, too many taunts. His eyes, maybe. She remembered a gentle brown color like the expensive bourbon her father used to sip at night in front of the fireplace.

But there’d been little gentleness in the way he’d looked at her. As if she were guilty of something more unforgivable than assaulting a police officer.

Hearing Jimmy talk around the answers she sought didn’t help.

“Have you seen the paper this morning?” he asked.

Casey wrapped her chenille robe around the high collar of her flannel nightgown. The winter air didn’t worry her so much as the chill in Jimmy’s voice.

“No. Judith’s not in yet. I don’t feel like venturing out to the gate myself.”

“I didn’t want to panic you. It could be nothing.”

Her heart beat a quicker tempo at his particular choice of words. “Sending a detective busting through my doorway when you know I’m here by myself is your idea of not panicking me?”

“I just wanted to double-check that you were all right.”

“Stop treating me like I’m a little girl. Tell me—”

“You’re still my god daughter. I promised Jack and Margaret I’d always take care of you.”

“Mom and Dad would have given me a straight answer by now! I’ve half a mind to call them and ask them to come home.” The silence at the other end of the line made her regret her flash of temper. “I’m sorry, Jimmy. I know you mean well…”

“You can’t call them,” he interrupted her apology.

Casey tried again. “I know they’re not due to return from Europe for another three months, but I can track them down.”

“No, you can’t.”

As a child, she’d been reprimanded in that very same voice. But she was no longer a child. “Dammit, Jimmy, you can’t dictate—”

“Emmett Raines.”

If he wanted to punish her for her outburst, he couldn’t have said a crueler thing.

She thought of the framed Olympic silver medal in the hallway, and how she could have had a gold one from four years later beside it. She thought of her parents, once pretending to be dead and hiding away in a place unknown even to her so they could stay alive. She thought of tomorrow’s Thanksgiving holiday and how she’d be spending it alone. Again.

Because of Emmett Raines.

“What about him?”

A door off the kitchen slammed, startling her before she slipped deeper into a mind-numbing depression.

“Casey! Casey?” a shrill voice called from the hallway.

The Maynards’ housekeeper huffed around the corner into the library. The older woman’s watery blue eyes glistened with fear.

“Just a minute, Jimmy,” said Casey into the phone. “Judith’s here. The boarded-up door must have spooked her. Give me a minute to explain what happened.”

She covered the mouthpiece of the receiver and set it down. She needed both hands to stand and try to look composed. Judith McDonald might be a hired servant by contract, but she’d been with the family long enough that Casey considered her a friend.

“Are you all right?” Judith paused long enough to ask the question, but moved before Casey could answer her.

The housekeeper crossed the room, holding out the Kansas City Star newspaper in one hand and clutching her ample bosom to steady her breathing in the other.

“He escaped from prison.”

The unadorned statement struck Casey like a gunshot. She needed no other explanation to piece together the evasive truth. Suddenly Mitch Taylor’s visit made sense. The blood in her head rushed down to her toes. She sank into her chair and cradled her head in her hands. Finally understanding the situation brought her none of the comfort she had hoped for.

Judith spread the paper across the desktop and pointed to a short article on the second page. Casey scanned the words, and like a well-mannered schoolgirl, she picked up the phone.

“Why didn’t you tell me Emmett Raines was out of prison?”

Jimmy’s deep sigh matched her own. “State troopers are out in force looking for him. He has no family here anymore. Statistics say he’ll try to get as far away from Missouri as he can. I didn’t want to alarm you unnecessarily.”

Statistics? Her devoted Dutch uncle had gambled her safety on statistics? And backed it up with nothing more than an overbearing, overwhelming gladiator sent to check the premises?

A touch of something fiery licked through her veins, thawing the fear that tried to take root inside her. “I testified against the man in court! The newspaper says he killed a laundry-truck driver and drove away from Jefferson City. How unalarmed do you want me to be?”

Judith reached across the desk and squeezed her hand. Casey squeezed back, tapping into her own strength by sharing it.

“Don’t do anything, Cassandra. Stay in the house and lock the doors and windows.” For the first time that morning, she appreciated the clipped authority in Jimmy’s voice. “I’ll have Iris rearrange my schedule and I’ll get there as soon as I can. I’ll take care of you, dear. I promise.”

She hung up the phone and relayed the message to Judith. While Judith left to do a visual check of the entrances to the house, Casey turned on her computer and accessed the security system to verify that it was up and running.

She was glad she rated high enough on Jimmy’s list of priorities for him to postpone a meeting. But she felt no relief. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

No one understood Emmett Raines the way she did. No one could unless they’d been his victim, too.

She’d given up trying to explain why she’d secluded herself in the home where she’d grown up. After Emmett’s trial, she let the press make up stories to explain her withdrawal from society. Fear of more criminal repercussions. Shame over losing her career. Sorrow over losing her parents.

She couldn’t tell them about her unique phobia.

And she couldn’t risk more uninvited guests busting their way into her sanctuary.

Casey logged on-line and found the site she was looking for.

No more strangers.

She’d see to that.

“HEY, OLD MAN!”

Mitch grunted his answer to the cheerful greeting and strode through the Fourth Precinct offices, shedding his coat and barking orders along the way.

“Ginny. Dig up a file for me. Cassandra Maynard. Society lady. Age twenty-eight. She may have been recently injured in an accident, so check the traffic reports.”

The petite blonde sat back in her chair. “Casey Maynard? Judge Jack’s daughter?”

Mitch stopped in his tracks. “You know her?”

“I know of her,” said Ginny. “A few years back, she was in all the papers. I was in the academy at the time. The story was required reading. Her father, Jack Maynard, sat the bench in criminal court for almost twenty years.”

“The ‘no-budge judge’?” Mitch mentally kicked himself for not connecting the names sooner.

“Yeah. ‘No-slack Jack,’ whatever nickname you want to use.” Leave it to Ginny to know her history. What his detective lacked in size and intimidation factor, she more than made up for in keen intelligence and impeccable memory. “She got hurt, and then the judge and his wife supposedly died in that horrible car accident. It wasn’t revealed until months later that their deaths had been staged so they could go into hiding. I’m pretty sure he never returned to the bench.”

Mitch propped his hip on her desk and asked, “What do you mean ‘hurt’?”

“It was several years back. But if I remember right, she was assaulted.”

“I’ve heard of her.” Mitch’s newest detective, Merle Banning, in only his third year of police work, walked up with a mug of coffee and joined the discussion. “I remember my mom goin’ on about what a tragedy it was. She was training for her second Olympics. A swimmer, I think.”

Mitch nodded, hiding a cringe of guilt as he remembered how rough he’d been with Casey, and how she’d fought against him with every weapon available to her, including her sarcastic tongue. Her defensive actions made sense if she had once been assaulted.

He put his self-recriminations on hold and searched the vaults of his own experience, looking for facts to answer his questions. He had never testified in Jack Maynard’s court, but he could recall a few old friends who had. “The judge had a reputation for no leniency, long before the three-strikes rule. I definitely want to see her file.”

He stood and clamped his hand over Merle’s shoulder, scenting the trail of a case that had yet to be opened, or maybe—if the tingle on his neck was any indication—had never been closed.

“I want to know everything we’ve got on Jack Maynard.”

“Everything?”

Mitch ignored Banning’s query. “I want to know names and dates of the cases he tried.”

“ All of them? That’s a huge project, Mitch.” Stunned would be a mild description of the bespectacled detective’s expression. It provided enough humor to sweeten the tension in Mitch’s stomach. He pressed his lips into a thin line to avoid smiling.

“Then you’d better get on it.”

“Yes, sir.” Merle set down his coffee and logged on to his computer.

Mitch had watched criminals enter their holding cells with more enthusiasm. The father figure in him relented, just a smidge. “Ginny can help you when she’s done.”

Merle and Ginny exchanged supportive glances over their paired-off desks. The rookie detective squared his shoulders and nodded. “I’ll get it on your desk ASAP.”

“Good enough.”

Mitch looped his coat through the crook of his arm and crossed to his lieutenant’s desk, confident the work he asked for would get done. “Joe. I put in a call to Commissioner Reed. Give it priority to my office when it comes through.”

“Will do.”

Joe Hendricks followed Mitch into his office and waited while he shed his jacket and loosened his tie. Mitch shuffled through the messages on his desk before sitting down. He stood up again, feeling too edgy to stay put for any length of time.

“Here’s your coffee.” Joe handed him a mug of the steaming dark brew.

A deep sigh drifted through Mitch’s barrel chest before he accepted the offer. “I’m that obvious?”

The mahogany-skinned detective grinned and made himself at home in one of the chairs across from Mitch’s. “Drink before we talk.”

“That sounds ominous.” Mitch inhaled the intoxicating aroma and took several sips before sitting again and staying put.

“So what fly is buzzin’ around your head this morning?”

Mitch cradled the mug in his hands and stared into its depths. The darkness reminded him of the previous night. It wasn’t the usual stresses of the job so much as that prickly princess locked away in the tower that made him more of a grizzly than a teddy bear that morning.

She might very well sue him for his honest mistake. But that wasn’t what bothered him. He was ninety-nine percent certain she wouldn’t sue. In fact, he’d bet she wouldn’t have another thing to do with him.

Or anyone from the outside.

Why did he think of her as a prisoner? The leg, probably. Listening to Ginny’s and Merle’s accounts, she apparently had some kind of permanent handicap. But that wasn’t the impression that had stayed with him through the night and played havoc on his normal morning routine.

It was her eyes. Smoky, dark and deep. He’d seen fear there.

Fear of him.

He downed a hasty swallow of coffee and nearly scalded his tongue. Hell, nobody should be afraid of him. Nobody except the bad guys.

What did she have against cops? He’d worked damn hard for his badge and rank. He shouldn’t be bothered by implied insults from damsels in distress who didn’t want to be rescued.

He shouldn’t be bothered by her at all.

He compromised on his response to Joe. “The commissioner’s got me playing some cat-and-mouse game I haven’t figured out yet.”

Joe thumbed over his shoulder toward the squad room behind him. “What does Judge Jack have to do with it?”

“The commish called yesterday and asked me to check Judge Maynard’s house. Personally. See if there was any trouble.”

“Was there?”

“Not that I could see. That’s why I’m trying to make some kind of connection. Reed wasn’t eager to share details.” Mitch leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and splaying his hands in a gesture of frustration. “The only person there was the judge’s daughter. And she definitely wasn’t thrilled to see me.”

Joe laughed and tapped the bridge of his nose, indicating the purplish bruise decorating Mitch’s own nose that morning. “Is she another conquest you charmed and left by the wayside?”

Mitch felt his own mouth curling up into a wry smile. Casey Maynard had certainly packed a wallop. He’d never so much as experienced a slap on the face from one of his dates. “Even on my best days, I was never charming.”

“Hey, now don’t sell yourself short. I just put five bucks on you bringing a hot date to the big awards banquet.”

Mitch shook his head, his mood momentarily lightened by his friend’s teasing. “Don’t I give you enough work to do?”

Joe smiled innocently. “Most of the guys say you’re going stag to the big event. Ginny thinks you’ll take an old friend.”

“Save your cash, Joe. Isn’t that fourth baby due pretty soon? I figured you’d have more sense than to waste your money like that.”

“Impending daddyhood just makes me all the more romantic. I know you got a pretty lady stashed away somewhere.”

He dismissed Joe with a cajoling smile. “Back to work, Lieutenant.”

The two men stood, old friends at ease with each other’s various moods. Joe feigned hurt feelings. “What about the morning report?”

Mitch shooed him toward the door. “Let me return these calls on my desk. Then you can update me on our priority cases. And Joe…?”

Hendricks turned in the open doorway and waited expectantly.

“Step up patrols in Ms. Maynard’s neighborhood. But nobody goes into that house unless I give the okay.”

Joe touched a finger to one eyebrow and saluted. “Will do.”

“You’re a good man.”

“That’s what my wife says.”

Mitch smiled and dismissed him with an answering mock salute.

Poor Joe. He could kiss his money goodbye. Mitch had no intention of spoiling that banquet by sharing the evening with a woman who didn’t understand what that service award and promotion meant to him. Who couldn’t understand.

Women wanted attention. They demanded the spotlight. They expected to be spoiled. And if good ol’ Mitch Taylor, the Fourth Precinct’s resident old man, couldn’t give a woman what she thought she deserved, then she’d look elsewhere. Jackie had.

Mitch swallowed hard, sending the bitter taste in his mouth down to his stomach. His work had saved him from hell and given him a chance to be somebody. It had given him an identity. A power and an authority that he’d earned with blood and sweat and a lot of hard work.

But his work was a mighty cold companion when he lay in bed at night. It didn’t laugh with him over his mistakes, nor rally him when his faith faltered. It wouldn’t grow old with him.

Ignoring the debilitating influence of his own thoughts, Mitch unbuttoned the cuffs on his broadcloth shirt, rolled up the sleeves and sat down to do some of that work. He noticed the full mailbox on his computer screen and brought up the messages.

He scrolled through work-related contacts, but stopped when he came across an all too familiar name.

Captain Taylor

A convict named Emmett Raines escaped from Jefferson City. If you wish to alleviate your guilt from last night, you can tell me what KCPD knows about this.

Casey Maynard

“Guilt?” Mitch berated the computer screen. “She thinks I feel guilty?”

He ignored the fact that guilt had plagued him since learning he had used force against a handicapped assault victim, no matter how deadly her right hook might be. But her smoky eyes and proud little mouth had teased his dreams last night. Today Miss High-and-Mighty’s note aggravated that awareness into a full-blown distraction. He switched screens and typed in his response. “She’s got a hell of a nerve.”

The message he left was equally concise.

Look, princess, that kind of information is confidential. The state patrol and area enforcement officers will handle the case. Questions by vicarious thrill-seekers would only interfere. BTW, the number of forms I had to fill out last night more than makes up for any guilt I might have felt.

Your ever faithful civil servant,

Mitch Taylor

There. He clicked the send button and enjoyed a buoy of satisfaction that he had reminded her arrogant highness of her place in his life.

After that, Mitch dug into the paperwork on his desk. He worked steadily, ignoring the faint tickle at his nape. It was probably just his hormones working overtime. Casey Maynard had really gotten under his skin. He hadn’t quite felt sorry for her, but he’d felt for her.

Her grace. The delicate scent of her. That memorable shade of strawberry-gold hair. He might have found all of those things attractive. But she’d been so cold, so haughty.

So scared.

Mitch paused in his work. He leaned back and pressed his fist to his mouth. Is that what this was all about? She had needed him. For a few moments, anyway. When she’d been too weak to struggle. And later, when the blue-suits had walked in.

For a brief time, he’d gotten caught up in her need. He’d deluded himself into thinking she needed him.

He slammed his fist down on the desk, stirring papers and sloshing the dregs of his coffee. You’d think he’d learn. Hell. Jackie had needed him. She’d wanted someone solid and reliable to get her through those last days after her boyfriend had dumped her. A lot of people needed him because of his job. To protect and serve the citizens of the community. He was good at that.

But it could have been any decent guy. It could be any cop.

That’s why the princess was such an irritation. Wounded pride. He almost laughed. He hadn’t allowed himself to feel that in a long time. It was because of the bad day he’d been having, he rationalized. Casey Maynard had caught him at a weak moment.

Well, it wouldn’t happen again.

Mitch pulled out a handful of tissues and blotted at the coffee spots he had splashed across a memo. A blinking light out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. An incoming message on his e-mail.

Great. Just when he’d talked himself out of messing with her.

Mitch,

What kind of forms are you talking about? Police reports? I think it would be best to draw as little attention to me as possible. Please leave my name out of anything you file.

Casey

How about that? She’d deigned to move to a first name basis. He turned to the keyboard and answered her.

Princess,

Of course police reports. I discharged my weapon and investigated what I thought was a suspicious situation. It’s standard procedure. And your name is already on the dotted line.

Mitch

He pressed the send button and waited, almost relishing the anticipation of what she’d say in response. She didn’t disappoint.

“I didn’t ask you to come last night.” Several moments passed, and then another message appeared.

“What if I talk to Jimmy for you? Maybe we can forget the whole thing.”

Just what kind of pull did she think she had? Every officer, no matter what his rank, had to file reports whenever he used his weapon, whether it be against a perp or a door lock. Why did she think he’d change the rules for her?

Rules are rules. Talk to “Uncle Jimmy.” I think he’ll support me on this.

Mitch.

There was no pause this time.

“No! Don’t use my name. He’ll find me.”

“He’ll find you?” Mitch questioned aloud. He sent a brief message. “Who?”

He waited.

“Emmett Raines.”

“Who is Emmett Raines to you?” Mitch typed. “Did you think I was him?”

“Please!!!” she answered.

Mitch ran the name through his head and drew a blank. Maybe Emmett was an old boyfriend. She said he’d escaped. Maybe she saw enemies where none existed.

But the itch along his neck had him thinking otherwise. Real or not, her obvious fear dissipated the remnants of his anger. Reminding himself that it wasn’t his help she was seeking, he typed in a response.

“I’ll have one of my men look into it.”

He could almost feel her answer leap off the screen, as if he were talking to her in person and could read the expression in her eyes again.

No! Forget it! Just forget it! Don’t send anyone else to the house. Don’t come here again. And don’t call me princess!

What? The message ended abruptly, and he knew she’d signed off. Mitch stared mutely at the screen, wishing his own frustration could be transported across the modem links. He didn’t know what irritated him more, the idea that she thought she could dictate his actions and go over his head to his superior, or the discovery that she might be a little human like the rest of the world.

She didn’t like the nickname. She had gotten personal.

Their little e-mail interlude had left him as heated as last night’s face-to-face encounter. He could picture her eyes darkening along with her emotions. He could imagine that stubborn little chin pointing upward as she vented her fury on him.

He could see the fear in her posture as she stiffened her shoulders and tried not to let it show.

“Joe!” He bellowed for his lieutenant.

“Boss.”

“Sorry.” Mitch looked up guiltily, finding Joe waiting in the open doorway with his usual forgiving smile. “Emmett Raines. Check the wires. He just walked away from Jeff City. I want to know everything there is to know about him.”

“Anything in particular I should look for?” asked Joe.

“A connection to Jack or Casey Maynard. Something isn’t right.” He glanced at his computer screen. “I need to figure it out.”

Joe jotted the name on his notepad. He pointed to Mitch’s phone. “The commissioner’s on line two. I’ll get right on this.”

Mitch nodded his dismissal, punched the blinking light and picked up the receiver. “Commissioner Reed.”

A smooth, politic voice answered. “Mitch. I’ll forgo the pleasantries. We need to talk.”

“You’re damn right we need to.”

“WHO THE HELL does he think he is?” Casey muttered to herself, still stewing over her computer conversation with Mitch Taylor earlier that morning. The words on her monitor blurred together as her eyes glazed over. She removed her gold-rimmed reading glasses and rubbed at her tired eyes.

Normally, she found the content of medical articles an interesting read. But today it was simply a jumble of technical jargon that made little sense. Knowing she was ahead of her deadline, she saved the text she was editing and turned off the screen. Her clients shouldn’t be penalized for her inability to concentrate.

She slipped into her shoes and tied them, adjusting the platformed boot on her right heel before shifting onto her feet. Needing the extra support after last night’s uncustomary stress, she tightened the Velcro closures of her leg brace and walked over to the row of windows that gave a panoramic view of the backyard.