Little Belle Gone (7 page)

“What is it?” Matthew had seen her kneel down and, being the cop that he was, had come to see what had grabbed her attention.

Turning her head slightly to see his face, so very near to her own, she said, “I’m not sure, but I do know it shouldn’t be here. It’s not a towel and no one wears a sport coat to a gym. Least of all into a martial arts studio.” Looking at him confidently, she listened as he called a C.S.I. over to pull the fabric free. She watched as the roll of dark fabric turned into the desk clerk’s uniform coat from her building. The smell that accompanied the unfurled jacket made her nose bunch. Chemicals and filth. Exchanging a glance and a nod with Barrow, the C.S.I. bagged the article. The rest of her search yielded nothing and when the coroner arrived they stayed long enough to find out that the time of death was sometime between 6 and 7 am; no surprise there.

She stayed to watched the coroner zip the body bags, while Mathew returned to the lobby. One last good-bye to two kind souls. Making her way back to the lobby, she found Barrow giving orders to one of the uniforms. When he finished, he turned to face her and sighed. “Looks like our killer is a smart bastard. The surveillance camera’s been tampered with. All the video is distorted and grainy, but we are getting copies all the same. Maybe the lab guys can make something out of it.” He sounded weary, frustrated. She knew how he felt. Part of her hoped that the uniform coat from the first crime would give them something, but she doubted he would leave it for them if it could lead them straight to him. No doubt it would offer them more taunting clues that would get them no closer to catching him.

“Pam and Carl lived two floors down from me. Should we go check out their place? I doubt there is anything there, but you never know.” He seemed almost impressed with her. The glimmer in his eye made color rise in her cheeks and she felt the need to walk past him quickly into the street to cool them in the chilling autumn air. His steps were right behind her, though, and when he drew up beside her, she couldn’t help but smile at him.

“You have a lovely smile, Liz.” The warmth and intimacy of the simple statement made the color in her cheeks deepen and, as he moved a bit closer, he added, “and that blush isn’t bad either.” Winking at her, he jerked his head and she realized he wanted to walk. It wasn’t far and she had walked it so many times before. This was a perfect opportunity to put her new found desire to be friendly to the test. As they started down the sidewalk together, about a foot of cool air between them, he spoke again, only this time his voice was clean and crisp, his professional voice.

“So, you teach Judo. When did you start that?” He kept his place light. He had several questions he wanted to ask before they reached her building. He had sent a uniform to secure the victim’s apartment before she had been able to tear herself away from Grace. This short walk would be his only chance to learn a little more about his mysterious new partner without other prying ears. His interest in her had been high since the day they met, but finding out she had hobbies, responsibilities, a nickname, not to mention that brief but overwhelmingly powerful embrace, only stood to make him more curious. Besides, the cold air was helping settle the fire that fleeting, intimate, touch had lit in his loins, and he was hoping the walk would help calm his nerves, and his libido.

“Specifically, I teach a fourth Dan level course, black belt, I myself am a ninth Dan, red belt. As for where I learned it, I picked it up, along with a few other self defense techniques, after my parents...after it happened. I never wanted to feel helpless again.” He had tried to find information on her parent’s murder, but nothing had come up in the database, and when he had sought out her personnel file it was already taken. He knew from the drawl, she so masterfully hid, that she was most likely from one of the so called Southern states, but without more details on which one he simply didn’t have enough information to dig into it any further. He was trying to find the right moment to ask her for more, but remembering how upset she had gotten the last time they had ‘discussed’ it, he was trying to make better, safer, choices.

“A few others? Since when is a black, sorry red, belt in Judo not enough?” She smiled this time, and what a smile it was. The cold could not help him now. He was on fire all over again.

“Well, there’s kung fu, two schools of kung fu in truth, tiger and crane specifically. Then we have karate, just the regular kind,” she added with a chuckle. He very nearly reached out to touch her then. Never before had a woman affected him this way. He felt completely out of sorts when she was happy and close, oh so very close, to him―like now. Clearing his throat, he nodded for her to continue. “And last but not least, competitive kick boxing.”

“Wow. Are you proficient in each, or just the Judo?” He had combat training. Two years in the army had turned him into a formidable fighter, but he had to admit her list of credentials put his to shame.

“Ha, proficient! Well, I’m registered with the state as lethal with all but kick boxing, so, yes, I would say I’m pretty
proficient
.” The cocky tone to her voice was intoxicating, a dare he could not resist.

“Well, my resume is not nearly so impressive, but what would you say to sparing sometime? Maybe you could teach me a few things.” Good lord, he was flirting with her! What had come over him. He was wishing he had more self control until he heard her response.

“I bet I could teach you more than a few things, Matthew.” She was flirting back. Now he knew he had gone mad. A week ago she couldn’t even look at him without blushing, or worse scowling, and now she was flirting with him, quite successfully, too. That had done it. Pulling the edges of his coat tighter around him, he struggled to hide the firm length of his entirely too rigid manhood from view. Shame filled him as he chided himself inwardly for reacting to her like a high school boy who had managed to catch a glimpse of cleavage as a cute girl drank from a water fountain. All he could do was laugh slyly in response. When they rounded the corner and her building sprang up before them, he felt a loss. The first real conversation they had managed came crashing to a close the second she had seen it.

What are you doing?
She chided herself,
he is a friend now...not...more, right?
She had never flirted with anyone in her life, yet he had given her the chance and she had seized it greedily, without hesitating, and it had felt good, oh so good, to see him squirm just a little. As much as she wanted to see his tanned face twitch again, her building had pulled her out of the moment. Thoughts of the four lives that had ended because they were simply part of hers tugged at her heart. The new doorman opened the door for them as they drew near, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him, almost afraid to learn his face for fear of him becoming the next victim. Barrow’s hand touched her back slightly as he led her to the elevator and her chest tightened. It was a quick ride to the fourth floor, but just now she was afraid that with the heat she felt running over her, combined with being in such a confined space alone with him, she might just combust. His hand didn’t drop when he pressed the button or while they stood, waiting, in front of the carved wooden panels that covered the elevator doors.

Part of her wanted to slough his hand off, free her from the slight touch that made her guts clench, but another, growing, part of her wanted to lean into the pressure, making the touch stronger and more intimate. Trying to decide which voice was more rational, utterly confused by the new desires swirling in her mind, she almost jumped when the doors slid open. Standing guard in the elevator was a uniformed officer. She surprised herself when she felt her heart sink a little at the thought of not being alone with him. Shaking her head slightly, she pushed the thoughts to the side. She needed to focus, needed to concentrate, for Pam and Carl.

“Detectives, the Lyski apartment has been secured, but we haven’t entered yet.” The uniform pressed the button for floor four and stepped back against the wall. She looked at Matthew, wondering how he had known where the victims had lived. He met her gaze and to her amazement, he seemed to read it.

“Grace identified them to the first officer on scene. They ran the name before we got there. When she latched onto you, I went in to inspect the scene and they told me. I had a uniform come here to sit on the apartment until we could get around to it.” Noticing her eyebrows pinch, he added, “You’re not mad are you?” She almost laughed at the apprehension in his face.

“No, Matthew, I’m not upset, just remembering Grace’s bear hug...I’m not used to being...grabbed like that, it startled me.” His face flushed slightly, and she remembered the fleeting hug she had leveled on him just minutes after. He knew exactly what she meant and the idea made her pink a little, too. The lurching stop of the elevator rocked them forward, freeing her from the electricity in his eyes. What was she going to do? Only a week and she was so taken with him that given the chance she might just ruin her plans to avoid getting involved with a man, in fact, she wanted to break that vow more and more each day. “Third door on the left,” she said before the uniform had a chance. He nodded and followed her out of the elevator and down the narrow hallway to the victims’ rooms. Another uniformed officer stood guard and, seeing them approach, withdrew the key he had no doubt gotten from the manager. He unlocked the door and pushed it open for them, returning to his stiff-postured post.

Elizabeth walked through the familiar apartment with a sad and apprehensive pace. Everything was exactly as she remembered it. Nothing seemed out of place or missing, no signs of a struggle. There was still the smell of fresh coffee in the kitchen and soapy steam in the bathroom. The bed had not been made and street clothes were laid out neatly on top of it, as if prepared before hand for when they got back. “Looks like they had a pretty normal morning, coffee, showers, even laid out clothes for after their gym visit.” Matthew’s voice called to her from the bedroom as she stood in the small living room, reliving a moment just over a week old. A moment that saw the three of them sitting warmly in this living room talking about the weather and work, a shallow but pleasant conversation, after a delicious meal. While she had heard him, she didn’t respond. Concerned, Barrow had come up behind her.

“We sat right here last Friday night. Talking about the weather, if you can believe that. I never was very good at conversation. What did I really have to share ‘So yeah, I let my self get attacked by a rapist in the park last night, how was your day?’ They were probably the only people who knew me in this city and they didn’t even know I was a cop.” In that moment she was filled with regret. Would it have been so terrible to have let them in just a little bit? To have confided some small parts of her in them? Feeling his warmth beside her, she decided that she wouldn’t be that reserved anymore, starting with her new partner. He knew what she did already, and it seemed they would be spending more and more time working together. It might actually be nice to have someone she could call when she needed a companion. Looking up at him, her throat tightened. Letting
him
in might be dangerous.

Shifting her eyes away quickly, she noticed the answering machine was blinking. She pointed to it and they both moved closer. Using the end of a pen, she pressed the play button. A series of messages, some a week old, filled the apartment. Their dry cleaning was ready, Carl’s laptop had been repaired and was ready for pick-up, Pam’s sister was confirming their visit in two weeks, adding snidely that they might want to look into a hotel if they planned to bring ‘that dog’, and then there was Bruce’s voice. His message was short, asking them if they minded taking Liz’s class that very morning as she was too tired to make it. His was the last message, time-stamped at five thirty am. Remembering the dog, Elizabeth looked around the room. Whistling, she called out, “Bucky! *
kiss-kiss*
Bucky!” Somewhere back in the bedroom came the sound of clinking dog tags as a small West Highland White Terrier trotted into view and right to her. Bending down, she lifted the dog into her arms and giggled slightly as he struggled to lick her face. He seemed exceedingly lonely but well fed and there were no signs of dog mess anywhere in the apartment so she just assumed he had been expecting his owners to come home to him so much sooner than they would now. Sadness washed over her face as she snuggled the familiar beast, comforting grief he would never feel.

Watching Elizabeth snuggle with the white fluff ball made his pulse race. It was licking her face, flicking his tongue lazily over her chin, cheek, and neck. Matthew forced the lump in his throat down with a firm swallow. “What do you plan to do with him?” She looked up from the dog with sad, murky green eyes and he had to look away. He needed to be serious, professional, not emotional. “I would suggest the sister, but it didn’t sound like she was a dog lover.”

“Well, Carl never mentioned any family and Pam only had the one sister. I guess I can take him till we can find a home for him.” He watched, envious, as she hugged the little dog and put him back on the floor. “It doesn’t look like anything is out of place here, so why is it that it feels all wrong? Who doesn’t listen to their messages for a week, yet feeds and cleans up after their dog, makes coffee, and takes showers?” He had to give her credit. The answering machine was the only thing in the apartment that didn’t seem to fit. All other evidence was that of a normal morning lived by a happy couple, all but the answering machine. He had left messages on his machine before, needing to get the number or the directions written down later, but in every instance he had listened to the messages first. These messages were mostly mundane, non-informational drivel, things that most people would erase immediately. What’s more, the flashing light meant that the messages had never been played in the first place.

“We’ll take the machine.” Calling to the officer in the hall, he listed the items in the apartment that were to be taken into evidence as he watched Elizabeth gather up a small box of the dog’s things. “I think we’re done here. Before we head back to the precinct do you want to drop the dog off?” At first the surprise on her face confused him until he realized that dropping the dog off meant taking him upstairs to her apartment. His heart skipped a beat at the idea of getting a peek into her highly guarded private life.