Authors: Carolann Camillo
Tags: #Contemporary Romantic Suspense, Police Procedural
“I want to see you settled. At thirty-four, you should have your pick of eligible women. Just because Danielle decided she couldn’t hack being a cop’s wife, there are plenty of others who would embrace it. Mom did. I don’t ever remember a complaint from her.”
“Has it occurred to you Danielle was right, I spent a lot more time at work than with her?”
“If she felt neglected, she never should have accepted a ring.”
“I shouldn’t have broken more dates than I kept. One of the downsides of the job, and it isn’t going to change, not anytime soon. And I have no immediate plans to inflict disappointment on another woman. So let’s drop it.”
“Okay, but one of these days…”
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Before his sister had a chance to finish her admonition, Martin Sutter appeared in the kitchen wearing gray pants, a blue-and-red plaid flannel shirt and a navy cardigan sweater. No matter what the season, he always dressed as if it were winter. A grim reminder to Ben his father was heading toward old age.
Guilt tightened Ben’s chest. Somehow, he had to clear more time from his schedule. He hadn’t seen his father in almost a month, hadn’t taken him anywhere in two months. The last time they were together had been for a movie, which didn’t allow for conversation. He suspected his father was lonely and craved his son’s company, although he never let on.
Ben stood and gave him a hug.
“How’s it going, Pop?”
He had the same dark eyes as Ben, but the resemblance stopped there. Unlike his, Martin’s dark lashes had thinned and turned white, as did his hair. Once tall and muscular, over the years, he’d lost a few inches off his six-foot frame and could have added twenty pounds and still looked fit. Each year added more wrinkles to his ruddy skin. A picture Ben drew of himself forty years into the future. That sucked.
Ben followed him to the table. They sat, and Janice hurried to the stove to prepare another pan of eggs. She spoke over her shoulder while she scrambled them.
“Pop bought a new fishing rod. He’d love to use it.”
Her obvious signal was for Ben to make a date to take their father fishing at Lake Berryessa, where the family had vacationed when Ben and his sister were kids. In those long-gone days, his dad had hired a houseboat. They’d fished off the rear deck in the morning and eaten their catch, which his mother had pan-fried, at night. They’d gone to the lake for one week each summer, up until he turned sixteen and felt too grown up to hang out with parents. Especially since his sister had already broken loose.
Never one to become mired in nostalgia, the upheaval in his life these past months made Ben wish he could enter a time capsule and be sixteen and carefree again, sitting with his feet dangling over the rear deck of a houseboat. He wouldn’t even care if he caught a rubber boot instead of a fish.
Chapter Six
“She’s a beauty.” Martin accepted a mug of coffee from Janice. “I can show it to you if you’d like.”
It took Ben a moment to realize his father had spoken and mentioned something about a pole. Yeah, as in fishing.
“As soon as my current assignment ends, we’ll head up to the lake,” he said, although he could make no promises. He tried to pump a little enthusiasm into his tone, but it fell flatter than the tire he’d found last week on his personal vehicle, a 1998 Porsche Carrera he worked on sporadically to keep running.
“The pole will hold for a while,” Martin said.
They talked sports: the infamous move of the San Francisco Forty-Niners fifty miles south to Santa Clara, and the error by the Giants’ first baseman that had caused the team’s loss the day before. Ben poked at his food, wishing he could trade it for a double stack of pancakes, smothered in butter and syrup like he usually ordered at the local breakfast joint.
“How long do you think it will take to clear the case?” Martin asked.
“I’m not sure. Maybe a few days, or it could stretch into a week or more.” The notion it could take weeks instead of days before someone captured Barnett made Ben grind his teeth. The less time spent holed up in the house with Ms. Nash, the better chance he stood of heading off an ulcer.
He checked his watch. He needed to leave by eleven-thirty in order to relieve Thompson on time. Among other failures, his lack of punctuality had been another of Danielle’s complaints. Either he arrived late too many times or broke too many dates, sometimes without adequate warning. Hell, sometimes pulled into an investigation, he’d been unable to give her any warning. They’d briefly broken up the first time over those problems. It didn’t take too much longer for the hammer to smash down for the final, fatal blow.
Janice brought Martin a plate of eggs and toast. “I made a small portion, so eat everything.” She clucked at him, in a motherly fashion, same as she did to Beth Ann. She turned to Ben. “Isn’t there one day you can break free?”
“No. I’m on every day. I pulled noon to midnight.” He addressed his father. He would understand the constraints the profession put on cops.
Martin nodded. “Sounds like you’re babysitting.”
“Yeah.”
“Male or female?”
“Female.”
“Is she a potential trial witness?”
Ben sipped his coffee, wondered how much to divulge about the case, if anything. His father watched him with intense interest. In Ben’s experience, whether active or retired, cops never lost their curiosity when it came to police work.
“No. Her relationship to the case is peripheral.” He went on to explain about the women in Seattle who had come to a bad end and Barnett’s connection to them.
“If she never met him, what brought her into the picture?”
“It happened by chance.” Ben leaned back in his chair and took a few moments to sift through the details.
“She became involved through a former neighbor, who’d hooked up with the suspect.” Ben proceeded to explain about Allie wiring money to Jimmy Rix.
“Several men, those two included, were rounded up after a bar fight and hauled into the county jail,” he continued. “They were all fingerprinted, given a court date and released. By then, it was almost dawn. Before any of them could retrieve the vehicles they’d left in the bar’s parking lot, the owner had the cars towed. All but one, a Chevy, was claimed the next day.
“The cops hung on to the car for several more days, at the impound lot, then traced the registration to a Seattle woman. When they got no response from her, they did a computer search and learned she was a homicide victim. She was found with a paper heart, inscribed
Forever Mine,
on her body.
“They subsequently interviewed all the guys who were involved in the fight and got lucky. One of the men, whose apartment Rix had been flopping in, had gone bar-hopping with Rix and Barnett that night. He informed the cops both men were headed to San Francisco with the intention of hooking up with Jimmy’s former neighbor, Miss Nash. She’s the woman we’re babysitting.”
“Unlucky break for her,” Martin said.
“Yeah, further investigation led them to another popular neighborhood hangout. The bartender recognized Dave from a police artist’s sketch. A few nights earlier, he and the victim had left together at closing time.”
“Tough,” Martin said.
Ben swallowed a forkful of eggs. “They dusted the car for prints and found Barnett’s and Rix’s inside. Then the authorities in Seattle began investigating open cases of missing and murdered women. Bingo. Barnett had a connection through the University of Washington to at least two of the women who are still missing.”
“And the woman here in San Francisco?” Janice asked.
Ben explained about the phone calls to Allie and her refusal to vacate the house. “The perp made it his business to get real chummy with her. He’s smooth, turns on the charm with every call. Unless he’s captured soon, we’re pretty sure he’ll turn up here in the city. When he does, Thompson or I will be waiting for him.”
“Is this woman you’re guarding young or old?” Janice asked.
“She’s younger than me, but her age isn’t important.”
“Is she single?”
Ben didn’t need three guesses to figure out where his sister headed. “She isn’t my type, and it’s strictly professional, so don’t bother digging there.” He finished his coffee and stood. “I have to leave.”
He gave his father’s shoulder a squeeze. “We’ll go fishing, Pop, as soon as I’m free.”
“You know where to find me.”
His sister walked him to the front door. “This woman…”
“Forget it.”
“Okay, but at least answer one question.”
Ben fished his car keys out of his jacket pocket. “Make it quick.”
“Is she pretty?”
He shrugged. Now, he understood why Beth Ann had developed the habit. His sister could be relentless in her questioning.
“You’re with her twelve hours a day and you haven’t judged her looks? Danielle really must have soured you on women.”
He called up a mental image of Ms. Nash. She had a slender but curvy body, a creamy complexion and good features. No, make those the kinds of features most men searched for in a woman and rarely found. Every time he encountered her with a tape measure draped around her neck and dangling off her high, firm breasts, his libido came out of hibernation and his gut gave an involuntary clench. Her long brown hair was somewhat darker than his, and had something extra his didn’t have—shiny auburn glints that bumped up an otherwise ordinary shade into something interesting. She also had large, mocha brown eyes fringed with dark lashes. If she ever ditched the ponytail…yeah, he’d rate her as a straight A.
“Well, does she deserve more than a five on the one-to-ten looks scale?” Janice pressed.
Ben shook his head and jiggled his keys. “She must have had a bad case of acne. The scars are still visible. Her face is too long. She’ll probably whinny any day.”
Janice shook her head and smothered a smile. “You’re hopeless.”
Ben headed down the stairs, threw his sister a wave over his shoulder and walked to his official car. He slid behind the wheel, engaged the motor and joined the traffic flow. While he drove, he replayed the conversation with his father and promised himself, once the case closed, they’d go fishing. He could use a change of scene, too. He was wound pretty tight these days. Janice had pegged it right. Work consumed him. He had a nonexistent social life. Maybe that should bother him, but right now, it didn’t. He looked upon his absence from the singles scene as self-preservation. Danielle wasn’t the only woman who’d screwed him over because of his job. There had been a couple others before her. Those relationships had barely lasted two months. The women had wised up in a hurry and taken a hike.
When he reached Allie’s house, he did a slow surveillance of the street and surrounding area. Finding nothing suspicious, he nosed the car up to her garage door and used the opener he’d retrieved from her vehicle the previous morning. Like everything else, she’d made a fuss. He had to remind her that her movements were restricted. She could no longer leave the house without him or Thompson nor use her car. Wherever the detectives escorted her, one of them would take the wheel.
The garage, long and narrow, accommodated two cars, tandem fashion, one behind the other. On Friday, he’d moved hers forward. Now, he pulled in behind the Honda and lowered the garage door. He used his new key to gain entry into the house.
He found Thompson waiting on the other side of the door. He appeared anxious to end his shift, which didn’t surprise Ben although Ms. Nash, undoubtedly, slept through most of Thompson’s shift. Unlike his where they were together from noon until she turned in around eleven.
“Anything happen?” Ben brushed by him and glanced into the center room, expecting to find Allie there.
“Nothing.”
“Where is she?”
Thompson indicated the upper floor. “She’s getting dressed for her lunch date. I told her I’d come downstairs a little early to give her some privacy. She hasn’t had much lately.”
Ben shrugged. “She made her choice.” He fingered the change in his pocket. “Does she come into the bedroom, in the morning, wearing her bathrobe?”
“Sure. She needs her clothes. They’re in the bedroom closet. It’s the only place she has to hang stuff. She told me she turned the closet in the middle room into a place to store linens. The one is the kitchen is strictly utilitarian.”
Ben opened his jacket, tapped his foot, restless and anxious to get the day moving.
“Does she come in at night while you’re in there?” Thompson asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“Is it a problem?”
“Nah, no problem. How about you?”
Thompson chuckled. “After fifteen years of marriage, I’ve seen a lot less on a woman than a bathrobe. It’s gonna take more than that to shake me up. What is it, she getting to you already?”
“Hell, no.”
The first night, she’d caught him by surprise. She sashayed into the bedroom with her robe belted tightly enough to show off a curvy figure. The lacy top of her nightgown peeked above the robe’s deep neck opening. He’d sensed rather than heard her enter the room. Ever alert, his eyes swiveled to the doorway. Luckily, he hadn’t pulled out his gun. Until that moment, her sexuality hadn’t fully registered with him. Her casual clothes and pony tail provided only the barest hint. That night, his instantaneous reaction—a serious wave of body heat—took care of his ignorance. He promised himself, in the future, to keep his eyes glued to the window. But he couldn’t stop the image of her from looping through his head for the remainder of his shift.
“Hey Ben, don’t try to kid a kidder,” Thompson said. “Maybe it’s time you…you know…got back into…”
Ben waved him off, guessed what he was about to suggest. The comment surprised him. Since he and Danielle split, Thompson was scrupulous about avoiding the subject of Ben jumping back into the dating scene. Or not.
“Sorry,” Thompson said. “I didn’t mean to get personal.
Ben checked his watch. They were due at the Beach Chalet at one o’clock. It shouldn’t take more much than ten minutes to drive there, provided they made most of the lights. Of course, he’d face the usual hassle finding a place to park. The restaurant was always crowded at lunch, and parking spots weren’t readily available. He didn’t want Allie’s friends to see them together. He made a mental note to remind her to stay mum about Jimmy and Dave.