Cassidy and the Princess. Patricia Potter

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ it. “Tell me more about her,” he said.

      “She’s beautiful,” Manny said. “I’ve watched her skate. She’s a true athlete.”

      That was the supreme compliment for Manny. He was a frustrated athlete who’d been too short to play either basketball or football beyond junior high school.

      “How in the hell did he get to her if she’s…a princess?” It had taken him a second to say the word. He’d never known a princess, even a media-created one, and he wasn’t sure how helpful one might be. But the prospect of getting a killer off the streets produced pure adrenaline in him. Up to now, he and Manny had come to a complete standstill in the case.

      It had started seven months ago when they’d found the first body. A second, two months later; a third, another two months later; the fourth, two months later. This attempt was only a month since the last murder. All were killed on a Wednesday night. All were raped before being stabbed, but there had been no DNA, which led police to conclude the killer used both condoms and gloves. He never left clues, only a single red rose. The newspapers knew that. What they didn’t know was that the rose was always wrapped with a white satin ribbon tied into a neat bow.

      Now they might have a witness who could tell them something about the killer. And, according to the beat cop, they might have to crawl over a mother to get to her.

      They reached the parking lot and their unmarked car. “I’ll drive,” Cassidy said.

      “I could have guessed that,” Manny said, fastening his seat belt and saying a Hail Mary, his usual practice when Cassidy drove.

      Cassidy ignored it as usual. “What else do you know?”

      “She apparently went for a walk outside the Municipal Auditorium.”

      “At night?” Cassidy’s already preconceived notions about the woman dipped another notch.

      “Yeah,” Manny said. “But she doesn’t know Atlanta…”

      “You don’t go walking alone at night in any big city,” Cassidy interrupted. “She probably doesn’t have a brain in her head. And I’ll wager you my boat her mama will whisk her out of town faster than I can say boo.”

      “No one wants your boat,” Manny said dryly. “And a boo from you would be enough to send anyone scurrying for a plane. Try to be charming for a change.”

      “I don’t do charming,” Cassidy said, turning briefly to glare at his partner.

      “Only because your heart isn’t in it since…”

      “Don’t go there, Manny,” Cassidy warned.

      Manny sighed. “All right. Back to Miss Merrick.”

      “Miss…? Oh hell, you’re already besotted.”

      Manny shrugged. “She must be something special. She got away. That puts her way ahead of the others.”

      “Let’s just pray she knows something that can help us,” Cassidy said. He didn’t often depend on prayer, but he was ready to try anything. He couldn’t erase the thought that were he a little smarter, a little quicker, a little more intuitive, four women would still be alive.

      He stepped on the gas pedal, and Manny crossed himself again as he beat a yellow light. Cassidy did not miss that, either.

      They arrived at the hospital, and he parked illegally though he was careful not to block the emergency entrance. This, he thought, was an emergency. He wasn’t going to lose the only possible witness he might have.

      He knew where to go, and in minutes he had the information he needed. Room number and condition, which was “satisfactory.” Poor Manny was practically running to keep up with him as he took the elevator to the neurology floor, checked the room numbers and rapped several times on the second door to the left.

      “Come in.” The voice did not sound like that of a princess. It was obviously annoyed. And it belonged to a man.

      Cassidy already had his badge out, and he flashed it to the three people in the room. A young man leaned against a wall, an older one sat half-sprawled on a window seat and a well-dressed woman in her forties sat on a chair. The bed was empty.

      “Miss Merrick?”

      “They are conducting tests,” said the young man who regarded him as if he were some strange creature. Cassidy returned the stare. “You are…”

      “Paul Richards, Miss Merrick’s pairs partner and fiancé,” he said. “Tell me you’ve found the man who did this.”

      Despite what Cassidy said to Manny, he knew enough about ice-skating to realize there must be more to Richards than was immediately visible. Still, he was singularly unimpressed, perhaps because of the contemptuous dismissal that flickered in the man’s eyes.

      But then, after nearly thirteen years with the Atlanta Police Department, damn little impressed him.

      Richards did not offer his hand, and neither did Cassidy. Instead of answering a question he thought rather stupid, he turned his attention to the blond woman huddled in the chair. She had scarcely moved since he and Manny entered. He went to her side. “Mrs. Merrick?”

      She looked up at him, a glaze of tears hovering in her eyes. “How could something like this happen?”

      “She was out alone,” he said matter-of-factly. “That can be dangerous anywhere.” He wanted to ask why her mother had not taught this small fact of life to her, but resisted. “When did you arrive at…the scene of the attack?” The preliminary report said she’d been present when the police arrived.

      “Almost immediately,” the woman said. “Paul had finished changing clothes, and we were looking for the security guard to call a cab. We couldn’t find Marise or the security guard. Then we heard the sirens and I…I knew it was her. We followed an ambulance around the corner and saw her. She was so…still. Her blood…”

      “Did she say anything? Anything at all?”

      She shook her head, then seemed to remember her manners. She held out her hand graciously. “I am Marise’s mother, Cara Merrick.” Tears filled her eyes. “I’m sorry, but the doctors said she suffered a concussion. She hasn’t awakened yet. The doctor thought she would be conscious by now. He told us…”

      Cassidy’s heart sank. He’d hoped that she would be conscious by now. He knew that traumatic head wounds often caused at least temporary amnesia of events that occurred just before the injury. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Merrick,” he said.

      “I plan to take her to Seattle as soon as the doctors say she can leave,” she said. “I have been looking into charter flights…”

      “She’s a witness,” he said. “We think her attacker has killed at least four other women. We need her here.”

      The woman stood and drew herself up tall. And as she did, he immediately knew his first instincts had been wrong. This was not a weak woman. She wanted people to think she was, but she wasn’t. “No, Detective,” she said simply.

      Cassidy looked at his partner. Manny mouthed something СКАЧАТЬ