Shocking Pink (26 page)

T
he Thistledown Police Department hadn’t changed much in the fifteen years since Andie had last been inside. The same beige-colored walls, the same scarred linoleum flooring and battered furniture.

The smells and sounds were the same, too: of coffee left hours too long on the burner and of sweat, of phones ringing, scuffling feet and the occasional shouted obscenity.

She had never wanted to set foot in this place again.

Now, here she was.

Andie swallowed hard and crossed to the desk sergeant. He, too, seemed unchanged, an updated replica of the one from all those years ago. “Excuse me.”

He looked up. “Can I help you?”

“I need to see Detective Raphael,” she said, her voice shaking. She sounded more like a girl of fifteen than a woman of thirty. The scary thing was, she felt like one, too. “Is he in?”

“He’s in.” The man narrowed his eyes. “Name?”

“Andie Bennett. Dr. Andie Bennett.”

“Have a seat. I’ll tell him you’re here.”

Andie sat, clutching her purse in her lap. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to relax. Trying to get the music out of her head, working to shake off her fear and the feeling of violation that held her in its grip.

She focused on the tangibles: the calls, the clipping, the music. They were all related; it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out. She had been singled out, either because of her past or because of her involvement in the Pierpont case. People who sent threatening letters and made obscene calls were rarely rapists and killers. Typically, they didn’t have the guts to challenge someone face-to-face, they channeled their anger and dissatisfaction anonymously.

Typically. Rarely. There were always exceptions.

Someone had been in her house.

That didn’t fit the statistics and norms, now, did it?

“Bang! Bang! You’re dead!”

Andie jumped, and a squeal of childish laughter followed. She swung in the direction of the sound. A little girl peeked around the water fountain at her. She had a mop of curly dark hair and big brown eyes. She wore a tin badge and a holster with two shiny six-shooters. She was obviously playing cops and robbers.

Andie smiled and put a hand to her heart as if she had been shot. The child giggled.

“Miss Mara,” the desk sergeant boomed, “you’re not bothering anybody, are you?”

“Of course not,” she said, sounding adult. After casting a squinty-eyed stare at Andie, she turned and sashayed toward him, shoving her pistol back into its holster. “Just taking care of some of the bad guys. Gotta keep ’em off the streets.”

Andie brought a hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh. The girl would no doubt be highly offended if she laughed. After all, Andie knew from experience, getting the bad guys was serious business.

She watched as the child circled behind the sergeant’s desk and began poking around. He hardly even noticed. She was obviously a regular here at the station, one of the officers’ kids.

Even as she wondered whose, she found out. Nick Raphael’s.

“Daddy!” the little girl cried as he walked into the waiting area. She launched herself into his arms.

“Mara.” He gave her a big hug and kiss. “How’s my little deputy doing?”

“Getting the bad guys,” she said proudly, then pointed a chubby finger at Andie. “Got her.”

Laughing, Nick turned. He met Andie’s gaze, and a lump formed in her throat. In that moment, he wasn’t a cop. He was a father. A father who was head over heels in love with his daughter.

The emotion in his eyes, his tender fun-loving manner with his child were at odds with the hard-ass cop who had visited her house just a couple of weeks ago. The cop who had flatly told her he thought her profession a sham and her patient a cold-blooded killer.

Andie stood. The connection, the unexpected moment of communication, was broken. His smile died, his expression hardened. Once again he was the unbending cop with a chip on his shoulder.

He kissed his daughter again and set her on her feet. “A few more minutes, sweetie. Now, don’t ease up on your post.”

After the little girl had assured him she wouldn’t, Nick crossed to Andie. “Hello, Dr. Bennett. What can I do for you?”

“Detective, I—” She realized she hadn’t a clue what to say or how to begin. She also realized he didn’t like her very much, and in all likelihood, would tell her she had an overactive imagination and send her on her way. “I’m not sure where to start.”

“Is this about the Pierpont case?”

“Maybe. Or it could be about the—” She took a deep breath, feeling a bit like an idiot for what she was about to say. “I don’t know. It could be about the Robertson case. Leah Robertson.”

For a full moment, he simply stared at her, as if assessing not only her every word, but each flicker of her eyes, the way she held her head, her stance. As if deciding whether she was telling him the truth. Then he nodded. “Come with me.”

After he asked the desk sergeant—Murphy was his name—to keep an eye on Mara, he led Andie into the squad room. He pointed at the rickety-looking chair in front of his desk, then went around and sprawled in the one behind it. He leaned back, looking totally relaxed. Relaxed to the point of boredom.

He infuriated her.

“Why don’t you start from the top,” he said.

“All right.” She clasped her hands together in her lap. “Some…strange things have been happening to me. Tonight—”

“What sort of things?”

“Obscene phone calls for one.”

“Considering your line of work, how strange is that?”

She stiffened. “I’m not a 1-900 number, Detective. I’m a psychologist. No, obscene calls are not a usual occurrence.”

“It was a straightforward question,” he murmured, his expression and tone suggesting that she was an excitable female. It certainly
had not
been a straightforward question but she hadn’t come here tonight to argue semantics. “What makes you think this might have something to do with the Robertson case?”

“It started with a fifteen-year-old newspaper clipping about Leah Robertson’s murder. Someone sent it to me. Anonymously. They sent one to Raven and Julie, too. Those are my friends, the ones who—”

“I remember who they are.”

“Then the calls started. And tonight…when I came home, someone had been in my house, and I—” She swallowed hard, remembering the sounds of a footfall, an expelled breath, a shadow moving in her dark hallway.

She began to tremble, and she gripped the arms of her chair to steady herself. “I thought they were still there. I heard…something, so I came here.”

He drew his eyebrows together. “What do you mean, someone was in your house? Someone broke in?”

“Yes. They left music playing. Mr. and Mrs. X’s music.”

He sat forward. The front legs of his chair hit the floor with a thud. “You’re sure, about the music?”

A laugh bubbled to her lips. “Quite sure.”

He took out a pocket-size notebook and flipped it open. “Let’s go back to the calls. Is the caller a man or woman?”

“A man, I think.”

“When he calls, what does he say?”

“The first few calls, nothing. There was just this…creepy breathing on the other end of the line. But the last call, he said I was just watching. He said that I watched but I didn’t tell the truth.”

“Do you have any idea what he meant by that?”

“None.” She let out a short breath. “Anyway, he finished by saying that…that maybe I’d like him to put a noose around my neck. Just like…just like Leah Robertson.”

For long moments Nick Raphael said nothing, then he narrowed his eyes. “How long ago was that?”

“A couple of weeks.”

“And you’re just coming in now?”

The disbelief in his tone had her cheeks burning. She felt like a jerk. “I was afraid I was overreacting. I mean, my name’s been in the paper a lot. And there are a lot a people out there with sick ideas of what’s funny. I never thought…I didn’t think I was in any real danger.”

“But you do now?”

“Yes! Someone was in my house. Someone I don’t know. They touched my things, God only knows what things. They left music playing on my CD player. Mr. and Mrs. X’s music. Don’t you think I should be here? Don’t you think I’m just a little bit unnerved?”

“You don’t have to get so riled up, Dr. Bennett. I’m only trying to get your take on the situation. I can’t assume anything.”

She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. It’s been a big night.”

“Have Raven and Julie received the same calls?”

“No. Whoever it is, they seem to have singled me out.”

He jotted down something in his book. “Tonight, did they take anything?” he asked. “Was anything disturbed?”

“Besides me?” she asked. “Not that I know of. I went inside, then thought I heard someone and ran out.”

“They were still there?”

“I was sure I heard—” She brought a hand to her temple. “I thought so.”

“You did the right thing. I’m sure they’re long gone by now, but I’ll send a uniform home with you to make certain.” He glanced down at his notebook, as if scanning the notes he had already taken. “Do you have any idea who your mystery man could be?”

“No. But I…I have this pa—” She stopped. “Never mind.”

He looked up at her sharply. “You have what, Andie?”

She hesitated, a sinking sensation in the pit of her gut. “I have this new patient. He…he’s been talking a lot about sexual subservience and bondage. Things he said… I was reminded of Mr. and Mrs. X. And I get the feeling…I sometimes think he’s toying with me. Playing some sort of a game. I think he gets off on it.”

“Good. That’s a start. Name?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your patient’s name. I’ll pay him a call first thing, ask him a few questions.”

She swallowed hard. “I can’t tell you his name. That’s—”

“Privileged information,” he said sarcastically, flipping his notebook closed. “Then what am I supposed to do with this?”

“I don’t know.” She made a sound of frustration. “But I can’t divulge a patient’s name. It’s completely unethical.”

“Would you rather be dead?”

Color flooded her cheeks and she jumped to her feet. “Thank you for your time, Detective Raphael. I’ll see myself out.”

“Dr. Bennett…Andie, wait.” He followed her to her feet. “I’ll get a uniform to go home with you and check it out. Make sure nobody’s in your house. He’ll write up a report.”

“Thank you,” she said stiffly. “I appreciate it.”

“And look, I want you to keep me informed of what’s going on. That means, I want to know if you get any more calls or clippings, I want to know if you have any more uninvited visitors.”

She rubbed her arms. “Don’t worry.”

“Wait here. I’ll get a uniform to follow you home.” He started off then stopped and looked back at her. “And in the future, Doctor, if someone says they’re going to put a noose around your neck, don’t wait to report it until they’re actually trying to do it.”

N
ick felt funny about turning Andie Bennett over to another officer, though he knew the other cop would do no less than he would have, nor could he do any more.

She was in good hands, he told himself, walking away. Perfectly safe. This was his weekend with Mara; he wasn’t going to start it by keeping her waiting half the evening while he checked out something that was going to turn out to be nothing.

If only the woman hadn’t alternatingly looked completely lost and bravely defiant. If only he hadn’t realized how alarmed she had been, how torn between fear and her professional ethics.

He shook his head and told himself he was imagining things. She wasn’t a fifteen-year-old kid anymore, she was a grown woman, a professional. She had a handle on this, no big deal.

Sure, she did. Dammit.

Nick stopped and looked back. She hadn’t moved from the spot by his desk where he’d left her. She had her arms curved around her middle and wore an expression that had a lump forming in his throat.
Dammit to hell and back. Why tonight?

“Daddy!” Mara shouted, catching sight of him and barreling around the corner. “Are you done? I want to go now.”

He caught his daughter to him and hugged her hard. “What’s wrong, no more bad guys?”

She pouted. “I got ’em all.” Mara tugged at his hand. “And I’m hungry, too.”

“Okay, baby, just one more thing.” He looked back over his shoulder. “I just have to—”

Andie Bennett was gone. She had probably been assigned the uniform—Wilkens, most likely—and had exited with him. He could take off now with a clear conscience.

He smiled at his daughter. “You ready to go have some fun?”

Within minutes, they were on the road, Mara safely buckled into the seat beside him, chattering about everything and nothing.

He glanced at her, realizing how much he had missed times like this. Time they had spent together on a daily basis, doing routine things, ones he had taken for granted.

Just being together, he thought. He missed their just being together.

“Who was that lady, Daddy?”

“What lady?” he asked, turning off Main and onto Park.

“The one you talked to. Inside.”

He grinned at her. “I thought you said she was a bad guy?”

Mara looked at him, exasperated. “I was just pretending, Daddy. If she had been a bad guy, she would have been wearing handcuffs.”

Nick laughed. His daughter, how her mind worked, never ceased to amaze him. “How’d you get so smart?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Dunno. Who was she?”

“An old friend.” Nick found his own description of his and Andie’s relationship amusing—in a way, they were old friends, though they had shared nothing more than a handful of horrendous hours together. What, he wondered, would Andie call him? Not friend, he was sure. Probably something like
major pain in the ass.

“She came to see me about police business.”

“What business?”

“None of yours.” He stopped at a red light, reached over and tapped the end of her nose with his index finger. “What do you want to eat tonight?”

“Hot dogs.”

He made a face. “Try again.”

“Pizza?”

The light turned green; he started off. “Uncle Tony’s?” he asked, referring to his brother Tony’s Italian restaurant, Bella’s.

She thought a moment. “Okay. Daddy?”

He cut her a glance from the corners of his eyes. “Hmm?”

“That lady, your friend—” she shifted in her seat “—she’s pretty.”

Nick suppressed a chuckle. Mara obviously had something on her mind. And when she wanted something, be it answers, attention or a new toy, she could be like a bulldog with a rib bone. She would not be sidetracked or deterred, not for long, anyway. She was like him in that way. Jenny called it mule-headed, but he thought it a good quality, one that had helped him immensely in life.

“Yeah,” he said, slowing to take a right onto Whitman. “I suppose she is.”

“Not as pretty as Mommy, though.”

He made a noncommittal sound. Right now, he wouldn’t describe his soon-to-be ex-wife with any words that were proper in the company of his daughter. Truth was, he couldn’t even think about Jenny without gritting his teeth.

“Do you like her?”

“She’s nice.” He glanced at Mara, then back at the road. “Did you like her?”

She shrugged. “I don’t like Bernard. He’s not fun like you.”

Bernard Jameson, Jenny’s wife-stealing, family-wrecking prick of a boyfriend.
Nick tightened his fingers on the steering wheel, struggling to get hold of his fury. The man had seen more of Mara lately than he had, her own father.

“He’s not your daddy,” Nick snapped. “He’s not supposed to be as fun.” Even as the sharp words passed his lips, he regretted them. He smiled at his daughter, trying to lessen their sting. “Your daddy’s especially fun.”

Her shoulders drooped, as if in defeat, and she turned toward the window and gazed silently out.

Nick frowned, a thought occurring to him, one that scared him to his core. He took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “Bernard’s not…he’s not mean to you, is he? He doesn’t…hurt you in any way?”

Mara glanced at him, then lowered her gaze to her lap. She shook her head.

“You’re sure? Because if he is, Daddy will take care of it. I promise you, baby, I’ll make everything okay.”

She nodded, fiddling with her seat-belt buckle. “That’s not it, it’s—” She looked at him, eyes swimming with tears, chin quivering. “When do Mommy and I get to come home? I don’t like where we live. I want to be with Mommy
and
you.”

Nick’s heart broke. From what he had gleaned, Jenny and her shrink-boyfriend were all but living together. It infuriated him, but there was nothing he could do. His lawyer said that unless he wanted to get really nasty with Jenny, thus subjecting Mara to a muckraking war, he was not going to get full custody. Even with a war, he might lose, having done nothing but made his situation worse.

At least this way, he was guaranteed partial custody; Jenny had already agreed to it.

He pulled the Jeep to the side of the road, shifted into park and turned toward his daughter. “Come here, sweetheart.” She scooted over, and he drew her onto his lap. “I’d like us to be together again, too. More than anything. But your mother, she has other ide…”

He let his words trail off. He wanted to bad-mouth Jenny. He wanted to tell Mara exactly what had happened, laying the blame just where it belonged—squarely at his wife’s feet.

He wanted to do that so bad the words pressed at his chest, demanding to be said.

But Mara loved her mother. And as much as he wanted to punish and hurt Jenny, he didn’t want to hurt his daughter.

And criticizing Jenny would hurt Mara. In the long run, it would hurt them all.

He sighed and hugged her. “Mommy and Daddy had problems together. And Mommy was really unhappy.”

Mara nodded. “She used to be crabby a lot. She never used to smile.”

But she did now.
Mara’s words took his breath away. Bernard could make his wife smile, something he had been unable to do. “That’s right,” he continued, his voice thick. “And when that happens, sometimes a mommy and daddy have to live apart.”

“Forever?”

He heard the hope in her voice. He wished he could reassure her, wished he could tell her it wouldn’t be forever. But that would be a lie. He and Jenny would never get back together. Not unless Jenny came to her senses, anyway. And begged. “Most of the time, yes, it’s forever. Do you understand?”

She let out a long, trembling breath. “I guess.”

She didn’t, he knew. How could she? At six, her view of life and people was pretty basic—like it or don’t, want it or not, naughty or nice. He put a finger under her chin and tilted her face toward his and smiled. “But you know something? Even though your mom and I are apart, we love you just as much as we always have. To us, you’re the most important thing in the whole world. You always will be.”

She smiled and hugged him. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, too. Come on, let’s go get that pizza.”

Mara scrambled off his lap and back to her seat. Once she had rebuckled her safety belt, Nick pulled away from the curb. As he did, he realized where they were—a block and a half from Andie Bennett’s house. By now, the uniform would have done a complete inspection of her property; he might have found something.

Could this guy harassing Andie Bennett be Mr. X?

“Kiddo,” he said, turning to his daughter, “how about we make one more quick stop before Uncle Tony’s?” When she started to frown, he added, “But you’ll have to bring your badge and six-shooters. It’s police business.”

Moments later, Nick and Mara reached Andie Bennett’s house. Light blazed from every window. She and Officer Wilkens stood on her front porch talking; his cruiser was parked behind her car in the driveway. Obviously, her place had checked out.

Nick pulled up to the curb; he and Mara climbed out.

“Hi!” Mara called, racing up the walk, toy gun in hand. “Police business!”

“Detective?” Wilkens said as Nick approached, obviously surprised to see him. “Is something wrong?”

“I was in the area and decided to see if you found anything.”

“Nothing,” the officer said. “If someone was in there—”

“Not ‘if,’” Andie corrected, cheeks bright with color. “Someone entered my house illegally and left that music playing.”

“Don’t go getting riled up, Dr. Bennett,” Nick said, meeting her eyes. “If I thought you were making the whole thing up, I wouldn’t have sent Wilkens. And I wouldn’t be here now. It was a poor choice of words on Officer Wilkens’s part. Isn’t that right, Wilkens?”

“Right,” he said automatically. “Sorry, ma’am.”

Nick turned back to the officer. “Did you dust for prints?”

“Yup. Found nothing but this.” Wilkens held up a clear, plastic evidence bag. It contained a compact disc.
The
compact disc.

Nick gazed at it a moment, thinking of the past, of Leah Robertson and her unknown killer, more than likely Andie and her friends’ mysterious Mr. X.

Could he have done this?

“Point of entry?” he asked.

“Could have been anywhere,” Wilkens answered. “Most of the windows were unlocked, so was the back door.”

When both men looked at her, Andie made a sound of irritation. “This is Thistledown, for heaven’s sake.” She held up a hand when Nick opened his mouth to scold her. “I know, I know. It’s locked up tight now and will stay that way. Believe me.”

“Good.” Nick nodded. “Anything missing that you noticed? Anything disturbed?”

She rubbed her arms, as if chilled. “Not that I saw.”

“If there’s nothing else, Detective,” Wilkens said, “I’ve got another call.”

Nick told him to go, then turned back to Andie. “You okay?”

“As okay as can be expected, I guess.” She let out a long breath, glancing uneasily at her house. “I know no one’s hiding in there, but I feel…funny about going inside. I don’t know if I’m afraid they’ll come back or if I just have the creeps because someone was in there in the first place.”

“It’s natural to feel that way. But, if it helps, my guess is they won’t be back. Whoever did this didn’t want to meet you face-to-face. You probably scared the life out of them when you arrived home before they’d gotten out. They wanted to frighten, not hurt, you.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have enough information even to speculate with any confidence.”

“But if not the Robertson case, then why the music?”

Nick glanced at Mara; she was hiding behind a shrub, pretending to ambush some bad guys, then he looked back at Andie. “Whoever is doing this might be using the past as a way to get under your skin.”

“Thanks,” she muttered. “I feel so much better now.”

“You could give me the name of that new patient of yours, the one who—”

“I can’t,” she said, cutting him off. “No matter how funny I feel about this whole thing.”

Mara zoomed by, making motor noises. She stopped and looked up at Andie. “Maybe you feel funny ’cause you’re hungry.” She rubbed her stomach. “I’ve got the rumblies.”

Andie looked at her as if surprised—or disconcerted—by the comment, then laughed. “Maybe you’re right. My tummy’s rumbling, too.”

“You can come eat with us! We’re going to my uncle Tony’s for pizza.”

“Uncle Tony’s my brother,” Nick explained. “He owns Bella’s.”

“I’ve driven by it before, but never tried it.”

“Best Italian in Thistledown.”

Mara clapped her hands together. “Can she, Daddy? Can she come with us?”

“Thanks, Mara,” Andie said, shaking her head, “I’d really like to, but I don’t think—”

“Come with us,” Nick offered. “Really. We’d love to have you join us.”

Even as he heard himself saying the words, he couldn’t believe they were his. This was his and Mara’s evening together, the first all week. The last person he wanted to spend it with was Dr. Andie Bennett.

Judging by her expression, she was as surprised by the invitation as he was. She opened her mouth to refuse; he saw “no” forming on her lips.

She said yes instead.

“You will?” he repeated, not quite believing what had just happened. “Join us, I mean?”

“Sure. Why not?” She looked down at Mara and smiled. “Thank you for the invitation.”

Bemused, Nick glanced from his daughter to Andie and back. For better or worse, it seemed, he was having dinner with Andie Bennett. “All right then,” he said, motioning toward the car. “Shall we?”