Snowfall (7 page)

“Don’t worry,” Aaron said. “I’ll call them. You just stay with Caitlin. Don’t let her out of your sight.”

“I never turn my back on people who might like to slit my throat.”

Caitlin snorted softly.

“My God,” Aaron said. “She looks as if she’s been beaten all to hell and you’re already fighting?”

“Aaron. Please. Just shut up and call the cops.”

“Consider it done.”

Mac hung up the phone, then strode over to the chair in which he’d been sleeping and dropped into it with a heavy sigh.

Caitlin gave him one last look and then closed her eyes, as if she couldn’t bear to look at his face.

Mac sighed again. There was nothing left to do but wait for daylight or the cops, whichever came first.

It was almost daylight before Buddy got home. After finding out that his execution of Miss Bennett was going to have to wait, he’d taken out a little insurance, so to speak. It had been a simple thing, really, going across the rooftops to the Bennett Building. She occupied the penthouse, which meant he didn’t have far to go. A quick lock picking job, a thorough investigation of the setup, and after that it was a matter of finding the correct ventilation shaft.

He liked old buildings, but they were hell to get into. Their walls were often crumbling, and there was little or no access from floor to floor except for stairs and creaking elevators in dark, dangerous shafts. Even with their so-called security systems, it was the new ones, with all their modern conveniences, that made breaking and entering a breeze. He found the main ventilation shaft and, with a grunt and a jump, pulled himself up and then in, crawling carefully through the slick metal tunnels until he found where he needed to go.

Gaining access to her apartment was too easy. He was through the vent above her desk and into the room within seconds. Once his feet touched the floor, he stopped, listening to the quiet until he was satisfied he was the only one there. A quick scan of the area assured him there were no security cameras in view. After that, the place was all his.

There was a light on down a hall, giving him enough illumination by which to see the understated opulence. An original Degas hung on the wall by the door, and there was am antique Chinese vase on a pedestal next to a bookshelf. Nothing more than little splashes of color, intimate touches from a female point of view.

He looked and coveted and hated her for who she was, then moved from room to room, touching her things, moving clothes in her closet, fingering the toothbrush she used. Like a male animal in new territory, he was putting his mark on everything that belonged to Caitlin Bennett.

It was exhaustion that brought his foray to an end. That and the knowledge that he had to be at work by nine. After a quick sweep of the rooms, discarding one place after another as an option to plant a listening device, he walked back into the living room, looked up at the chandelier and smiled.

Using a kitchen chair and two phone books for a ladder, he climbed up on the stack and dropped a small, translucent bug into the bowl of one of the lights. He got down, then looked up and started to grin. He knew where it was and still couldn’t see it.

“Perfect,” he said, then put back the chair and replaced the phone books.

It took a little longer to get out than it had to come in, but he did it without leaving a mark on the walls. With careful precision, he replaced the screen over the vent, then crawled out the same way he’d come in.

Fifteen minutes later, he was on the street.

Trudy handed J.R. a cup of coffee as he walked into the precinct.

“What’s that for?”

“Just drink it,” she said. “You’re gonna need it.”

“Why?”

“Caitlin Bennett…the woman we figured was jumping at ghosts?”

“Yeah, what about her?”

“Someone impersonating a doctor got into her room last night and was scared off by her guard.”

J.R. set the coffee cup down on his desk. “You’re kidding.”

“The call was on my desk when I arrived. I’ve just been waiting for you to get here so we could go talk to her.”

“Damn,” J.R. said, then shifted his thoughts. “But then, there’s another way of looking at this. If someone saw him, maybe this is the break we needed.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“So, let’s go to the hospital and see what she has to say.”

“I called,” Trudy said. “She’s no longer there. She checked out this morning and went home. This time we talk on her territory.”

“As long as we get the job done, right?”

Trudy grinned. “I’m thinking it’s not going to break your heart to see her again, either.”

“Just what are you getting at?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said, ignoring the frown on his face. “It’s just that you seemed rather taken with her before, and I thought—”

“You’re a good partner and a good detective, Kowalksi, but you’re also a female, which means you think too much. Save it and let’s get going.”

Trudy took a last drink of her coffee and set the cup on her desk. “Right behind you.”

Kenny Leibowitz stalked into the lobby of Caitlin’s apartment building and leaned over the desk, eyeing the security guard.

“I need to see Caitlin Bennett.”

Mike Mazurka looked up. “Is she expecting you?”

“No, but she’ll see me. Just ring the penthouse, please.”

Mike frowned. “She just got home from the hospital, and she don’t look too good.”

Kenny hit the counter with his fist. “I’m her publicist. Ring the damned penthouse.”

Mike frowned as he buzzed the penthouse. He knew who Leibowitz was, and he didn’t like him, but he accepted the fact that it was none of his business. A few seconds later, his call was answered.

“Bennett residence.”

“Mr. Workman, Mr. Leibowitz to see Miss Bennett.”

Aaron mouthed the word
Kenny
to Caitlin. When she rolled her eyes, he covered the phone.

“I can get rid of him.”

She shook her head. “No, let him come up. The sooner I get this over with, the better off I’ll feel.”

“Send him up,” Aaron said.

Mike hung up the phone and then nodded to Kenny, who immediately strode toward the elevator that went directly to the penthouse. Without a key card, he had to wait for Mike to use the console at his desk to send him up. When the doors closed, he turned to the mirrored panels, admiring his reflection. Even though he was pissed that Caitlin hadn’t bothered to call him, he wasn’t going to give Aaron Workman the satisfaction of knowing he was mad.

The elevator stopped and opened. He strode across the hall and rang the bell. Moments later, the door opened.

“Morning, Kenny,” Aaron said, and stepped aside to let him in.

“Workman,” Kenny muttered, then lifted his head like a dog testing the air for the scent of prey. “Where is she?”

“In her room, lying down. Follow me, I’ll show you.”

“I know where her bedroom is,” Kenny said, and pushed past him.

Aaron was right on his heels. He wasn’t going to give Leibowitz the opportunity to hassle Caitlin. Not today. She already had more on her plate than she could say grace over.

Kenny knocked once, then strode into Caitlin’s room without waiting for permission to enter. He’d practiced what he was going to say all the way across town, debating with himself as to whether he should admit to being insulted that she hadn’t called him personally or be completely sympathetic to her injuries. When he saw her face, he opted for the sympathy route.

“My God!” he gasped, then crossed the room to sit down on the side of her bed. “You poor, poor darling. Are you all right? Why didn’t you call me? I should have been there for you.” Then he glared at Aaron, as if it was all his fault.

Aaron ignored him and looked at Caitlin. “Want me to stay?”

Kenny spun, his face twisted in anger. “What the hell do you mean? I’m not going to pounce on her the moment your back is turned. Get out, before I throw you out.”

“Kenny, for God’s sake, lower your voice,” Caitlin murmured, clutching her hands to her head. “My head hurts, and I’m not in the mood to listen to you two fight.”

“Sorry,” he said. “But I won’t be treated like a—”

“The next person who raises a voice in this room is going out of here on his ass.”

Caitlin moaned and closed her eyes, shutting out the big man standing in the doorway. This was getting better by the moment. Aaron and Kenny barely tolerated each other, but it had never been a problem before. Now they were acting like two jealous suitors. Toss in the added distraction of dealing with Connor McKee and the sanctity of her home had pretty much been screwed.

“Really,” she muttered, glaring at Mac from the bed. “I fail to see the need to resort to physical violence.”

“I haven’t hurt him…yet,” Mac drawled.

Kenny paled. The man in the doorway was a stranger—a big stranger. And from the look on his face and the size of his hands, he looked as if he could make good on his threat. His mood shift was immediate as he laid a proprietary hand on Caitlin’s leg.

“Who is he?” he asked.

“He’s Aaron’s brother, Connor McKee.” She looked at Mac and spoke a little louder. “Mac, Kenny Leibowitz is my publicist.”

Mac did little more than nod, while Kenny’s eyebrows arched dramatically. His gaze slid from Aaron to Mac and back again.

“Well…it’s easy to see where all the testosterone went in your family,” he drawled.

The slight made the gleam in Mac’s eyes a little brighter, but Aaron just laughed.

“Kenny, Kenny, Kenny, methinks you doth protest too much about your own.”

Kenny stood abruptly, his fists doubled. At that moment, Mac took charge.

“You,” he said, pointing at Kenny. “Get out. Now. Aaron, explain the situation to Mr. Leibowitz and then show him out the door. If he has any more communicating to do with Caitie, he can do it by phone.”

Kenny’s face grew red with anger. “You can’t just—”

“Please, Kenny, I’m not up to this. The doctor told me to rest, not referee. Aaron, fill Kenny in on what’s happening and, Kenny, I’d better not find out you’re using any of it to publicize
Dead Lines.
”

Caitlin’s voice was soft and shaky, but it got the desired result. Leibowitz flushed as Aaron walked out of the room. He looked at Caitlin with something close to regret. He’d made an impression on her, all right, but nothing like he’d planned.

“Forgive me, darling,” he said softly. “Chalk all of this up to worry. I’ll be in touch.” He strode out of the room past Mac, giving him a cold, angry stare.

Other than a narrowing of his eyes, Mac’s reaction to Leibowitz was mute and hard to gauge.

Once they were alone, Mac found himself locked into another staring match, this time with Caitlin. After a few moments of total silence, he took a deep breath, started to speak, then cursed beneath his breath and walked away, closing the door behind him.

Caitlin reached for the bottle of pain pills and shook one out, only realizing afterward that her water glass was empty. Groaning beneath her breath, she swung her legs off the bed and sat up, knowing it was going to hurt like hell to stand. She leaned forward, hoping to use her body weight as leverage, and knocked the empty water glass off the nightstand. It hit the hardwood floor, shattering into pieces. Seconds later, Mac burst into the room.

“What happened? Are you all right? Hellsfire, woman, why didn’t you call for help?”

“I broke a glass, yes, I’m fine, and I only wanted to go to the bathroom to get some water so I could take a pain pill, because I hurt from my teeth to my toenails, and if you yell at me one more time, I am going to cry.” At which point, having stated the obvious, she burst into tears.

Connor McKee felt like the lowest of the low. He bit the inside of his mouth to keep from saying anything more and simply walked across the room, scooped her out of the bed and carried her into the bathroom, gingerly stepping over the broken glass as he went. Then he set her on her feet by the commode and walked out, quietly closing the door behind him.

Caitlin used the drinking glass on the sink to take her pill and then sat on the closed commode to wait. Mac hadn’t said he would be back, but she knew him well enough to know that since he’d brought her here, he would eventually come back to get her.

She sat, feeling sorry for herself for the mess she was in, and heard Aaron’s cry of surprise, then offer of help as he ran to get a broom and dustpan. When she heard the occasional clink of glass, she guessed Mac was dropping the shards into the wastebasket by her bed.

She sat without moving, straining toward the sound of their voices. They were too low for her to hear what was being said, although she knew they were talking about her. About the letters. And the bomb threat. And the fact that someone wanted her dead.

From where she was sitting, the full-length mirror on the inside of her bathroom door was both a help and a hindrance. She didn’t have to move to see the extent of the damage that had been done to her body. She just wasn’t sure she wanted to see it all at once. Her face was bad enough. If she hadn’t known it was her own reflection, she would not have recognized herself. Half her face was streaked with dark purple hues, and the eyebrow with the stitches was swollen to half again its normal size. Her lower lip was puffy, and there was a series of small abrasions on the left side of her cheek. Still curious, she unbuttoned the top three buttons of her pajama top and let it drop off her shoulder.

Her eyes widened in shock at the extent of the contusions. With shaking hands, she pulled her pajama top back in place and redid the buttons. It was difficult to accept that someone wanted her dead, but the facts were too blatant to ignore. She closed her eyes, willing herself to a calm she didn’t feel, and was sitting quietly, her crying spell over, when the knock sounded on the door.

“Come in,” she said.

Mac opened the door. “Are you ready to get back in bed?”

“Yes, please,” she said, then held her breath as he came toward her.

He picked her up as if she weighed nothing at all and carried her back to her bed, laying her gently down on her pillows.