Little Belle Gone (3 page)

Elizabeth’s quick intake of breath was an obvious prelude to speech, but before she could start, he continued, “As for the bait program, it’s been incredibly successful, but the arrest rates have dwindled to the point that wasting your talents on a dying program is gross mismanagement, at best, on my part. You are capable of so much more.”

“But Captain, I want to stay where I am! It’s important work!” Her face flushed and her hazel eyes flashed the same stormy green they took on each time her emotional shell cracked.

“I’ve made my decision. Now, Barrow, brief her and the team. I have calls to make.” Reaching into his side drawer, he removed a homicide detective’s badge and tossed it to her casually, before he lifted his receiver and began to dial. Her scowl deepened, but she no longer felt the need to argue. Standing, she went rigid and nodded curtly to her superior officer. Then, turning coldly to her new partner, she sighed with unhidden disgust and walked past him out of the room. He jumped up and followed her out.

“So I guess that makes us partners, huh, kiddo?” The force of the small forearm that slammed into his chest nearly knocked him off his feet. Her eyes glared at him like frozen steel.

“Never,
ever
, call me that again. If you do, I promise you will regret it.” The gawking stares of the rest of the officers in the room bore down on her and she realized suddenly how visceral her state had become. Normally utterly collected and stoic, she convulsed at her raw anger. Even more disturbing was how aware she was of the warmth from his firm chest under her arm. Pulling back sharply, she gave him another scathing look as she turned and hurried to the conference room. How was she going to tolerate him? Deciding that the sooner this case was closed the better, she shored up her protective wall of ice and settled in for the course ahead.

The conference room had already been crowded when she had pushed through the door. Somewhere in her chest she growled as she spied the only empty seat, directly in front of the evidence board, and him, of course. Sitting down uncomfortably, she crossed her shapely, lean legs under her tea length, navy skirt and prepared for the briefing. Barrow moved to the front of the room, cutting her an infuriatingly pleased look before he cleared his throat. She had expected it to take several minutes to call the noisy crowd together, but the group gathered behind her went silent almost immediately. Their respect for her new partner stunned her, having assumed that the arrogant man she had met so briefly was that way with everyone. Undivided attention rippled through the room, forcing her to follow suit. He began with a curt introduction of his new partner, to which she gave no response, and then started outlining the case.

He went through some of the crime scene photos and then gave a run down on the identities of the two male victims. As he spoke, she took the chance to study him in detail. Despite her gnawing resentment toward him, she found the feminine aspect of her admiring his architecture. He was strongly build, lean and tall. Despite his expensive looking charcoal suit, she could see the lithe muscles bunch and release under the fabric as he talked with his hands. His face was strong and angular. Clean shaven, his chin was squared and his skin tanned and taunt. His thick black brows arched over clear, sky-blue, eyes. Atop his head was a thick silky stock of cropped black hair, professionally shaped and well trimmed. In spite of her view of men, or maybe in contrast to it, she could not help the little flutter that flared within her again.

Shifting in her seat uncomfortably, she tried desperately to hang onto the upset from a few minutes before. Pursing her lips, she looked past him to the wall of gruesome photos he was working his way through. Her eyes settled onto one photo in particular and her blood ran colder than usual. One of the photos from the coroner’s office held her gaze as her mouth fell open in a gape. Barrow, who had been mid-sentence, found the look on her face confounding and followed her line of sight to the photo.

“Yeah, both men had words carved into their chests. The full phrase is ‘Where, oh where has my little Belle gone’. We are still trying to work out the reference, but, since the words were carved before death, the killer found them important so we should, too.” He gave her a cool nod, and then it was his turn to gape as she rose quickly and all but ran from the room. He watched as she fled, utterly confused and concerned. “Huh, anyway, that about wraps it up. Each of you have your assignments. Report directly to me if you find something. These men had families, so lets do this right. Dismissed.”

Leading the exodus from the conference room, he scanned the office looking for his new partner, trying to decide if her stomach or her emotions had betrayed her at the sight of the carvings. Perfect score,
ha
! She was obviously not cut out for homicide if she couldn’t handle the sight of blood. He had worked scenes far more brutal than this one. No sooner had he finished the thought, when his heart shuddered, remembering their meeting the night before. She lived in that building, knew those men. At once, guilt washed over him. He thought perhaps she had been friends with them, turning that butchering into a far more personal assault on her sensibilities. Anger rose in him, not towards her, as that anger was full and fresh enough already, but toward Moreano. He had no right to force her to work this case, so close to her, as her first. Seeing her almost hiding in a corner, his intention of hating her seemed to cool. At that moment she seemed too vulnerable, nothing like the vicious minx that had assaulted him not twenty minutes ago in front of his peers. A sly grin came unbidden to his lips as he recalled the swift and strong force her small, delicate body was able to summon so easily. He decided that, if they were ever on friendly speaking terms, he would have to discuss that with her one day, as he crossed the room. Unsure of what her reaction might be, he walked slowly closer to her. She had proven how much disdain she held for him, but her pained expression spurred him on. Coming to a stop a foot from her slumped figure, he stared down at her. The auburn length of her wavy hair fell around her shoulders and covered her upper body, hiding most of her face from view. Her hands were tucked under the front edge of her skirt, between her knees, and aside from the shallow rise and fall of her breathing, she sat perfectly still.

“How well did you know them?” His tone was warmer than he had intended, and apparently she thought so, too. Fierce, murky gray eyes flicked up to him and her lips thinned, but she said nothing. Dropping her head, she stared at her lap. For a moment he wondered if she would speak to him at all. Then, after heaving a sigh, she looked at him again. Her eyes clearing to emerald. He marveled for a fraction of a second over how her eyes could shift their tint.

“Honestly, not that well. I saw them everyday, passed by, hearing them say hello, but I never really talked to them. They were good men, though. As far as men go, I guess.” Her eyes flashed again, but softened almost as quickly. “It’s just, the words...I’ve heard, I mean, seen them before. A long time ago.” As if the memory shook her lucid, her demeanor cooled to ice. She was herself again.

“What do you mean? Where have you seen this before?” He had not expected that revelation, any more than her new cool. She could change faster than the weather. His brow raised as she fixed her frozen gaze on him. The ice in her features was almost frightening.

“Not here.” Her solemn phrase was accentuated by the sudden squaring of her shoulders. He stared down at her, unable to read her at all. In the span of less than half an hour she had been cold, cruel, fierce, panicked, pained, and tragic. Never had he met someone harder to read and, for some reason, that actually excited him. He enjoyed a challenge. The moment he realized that he felt attracted to this frigid girl he felt a loss, as she was obviously not interested in him, nor would she ever be.

“Shall we head to the crime scene again, then? We can talk in the car.” At first, she tensed and he thought perhaps she would refuse to ride with him, but with a curt nod of her dark red head, she stood and motioned for him to lead the way. He wasn’t sure he could handle having her behind him. She made him uneasy. Her eyes burned into his back and he was all to aware of the sound of her teeth grinding. All signs told him that she hated him. He remembered her reaction to the playful term of endearment he had attempted to use to warm her to him, only to have it blow up in his face, quite literally.

His grip tightened around the steering wheel to the point that his knuckles turned white. He had been expecting a torrent of details, explanations, and revelations, and yet he had gotten silence. Awkward, deafening silence stretched between them like darkness in the night. “Well? Are you going to tell me where you have seen that phrase before?” The aggravation in his voice was stronger than he had intended. He felt her eyes whip to him, the chill in her body was palpable, but as she cleared her throat, he focused on her voice, silk and cream, coated in bitter cold.

“There was a murder nine years ago, a double murder. The killer left that message at the crime scene. They never caught him. That’s all, I guess.” Her voice was cool and clipped. He waited for her to give more, but nothing came. Giving a deep sigh, he turned to look at her. Her profile, haunting in its feminine perfection, stared unfeelingly out of the windshield.

“That’s all? Yeah, right. Who were the victims? How do you even know about the crime, or the scene? Why did it crack you? That’s all, my ass.” His voice was growing agitated, both because of her frustrating calm and because of the unnerving knot the supple line of her jaw stirred in his stomach.

“The victims were my parents.” The callous tone of the statement, that answered all of his questions so succinctly, would have been believable if he hadn’t caught the quiver of her chin when he whipped to stare at her again. Pulling the car immediately to the side of the road, he slammed it into park and tuned to face her, but she would not look at him. Sighing, he cocked his head slightly. Strangely, she seemed scared right now. A mass of fear and sorrow hidden beneath the smooth sheen of her ivory skin. Suddenly, he saw the truth behind her facade. Though she tried so desperately to hide it, the murder of her parents must have truly marred her soul. The cold nature, the distrust and aggression, even the defensive need to be respected and taken seriously, all stemmed from that one horrible truth. The last of his anger melted instantly. She needed a friend, even if she didn’t want one.

Feeling the softening of his gaze like razor blades on her flesh, she forced herself to face him. The pity in his eyes tied her stomach in knots and made her blood run hot.
How dare he pity me
! She seethed inwardly. She had lived through that event and come out strong. She had turned her life into cold ambition, methodically planned, all in an effort to honor her parents and ensure that no other fourteen year old girl would ever have to live the horror she had. He didn’t know her story, and she wasn’t about to tell him. She couldn’t risk deepening that pity any further. Wanting to erase the look in his eyes, she gave him a bit more.

“They died, yes. I was young, fourteen, when I found them. That phrase was written on the wall in their blood. It just caught me off guard to see it again. I shouldn’t have let the shock affect me as I did. It won’t happen again.” The controlled ice in her voice made his eyes go wide and victory welled in her throat. “Shall we continue?”

One brow lifted as he studied her face, but she kept her countenance calm and collected, and when he turned back to the wheel, pulling them back out onto the road, she turned to stare out her window again. Satisfied she had told him all he needed, she went over the crime scene in her head. Everything matched so perfectly, right down to the pattern on the dress the desk clerk had been forced into. Doubt sprang into her mind. Perhaps she should have told him more, all of it, but she couldn’t. The memories were far to painful and she didn’t know him, nor did she care to. She would probably have to at some point. After all, she wanted more than anything to catch the monster that had completely destroyed what would have been her normal life. Part of her wanted to tell him, almost ached with the need to confide in him. It was that same small corner of her mind that fluttered any time his blue eyes roamed over her, and it shivered with the need of it. But she had been repressing that part of her, the part that craved the warmth of companionship, since the very day she had woken up in that horrible scene. She wasn’t about to give in to it now, and certainly not with him. He had called her kiddo!

A few moments later, though an eternity in the awkward silence if his car, they were pulling up in front of her building. How would it feel to walk through the doors now? Knowing that the man who did such deviously horrible things to her family might be targeting her again, at her very front door, no less? Calming herself, at least outwardly, she slid from his car with ease and preceded him into the lobby where yellow crime scene tape still cordoned off most of the expansive room from the public. To her surprise and gratitude, she had come down that morning to face the tarps that had been hung to screen the rest of the tenants from the mess still covering the marble floor. The C.S.I. team hadn’t finished processing the scene yet and until the clean up crew came through the blood pools would remain.

“We didn’t want to disturb the tenants, but the scene will be gone by tomorrow. The cleaning crew is scheduled to come in tonight.” It irked her that he could read her so easily, especially considering that he had been behind her. She halted and he came up to stand with her. Looking down at her, his eyes seemed to smile a bit and against all reason, she felt her face flush.
Ridiculous, foolish girl
, she berated herself, as she too quickly looked away, pulling his smile down to his lips. Again, that horrid, traitorous place in her mind sparked to life, begging her to take in that winsome smile she was sure he had. Chancing a glance, she discovered, much to her dismay, that it was even more beguiling than she had feared. His strong lips were parted slightly over a row of straight white teeth and the shared glow of his mouth and his eyes made that corner of her mind leap and swirl.