Cassidy and the Princess. Patricia Potter
and he turned. Two orderlies were wheeling a gurney into the room, and for a moment he felt as if all the breath had been sucked out of him.
A blond woman lay on the gurney, her eyes closed. A bandage was wrapped around her head, and she had a huge bruise on her cheek. Lush dark eyelashes contrasted with the fine blond hair. Manny had said she was a stunner. He had not exaggerated. Despite the bandage there was no mistaking that this was a very pretty woman. She also looked young and vulnerable and, God help him, as if she were indeed a princess from a fairy tale. Hell, Manny had put that nonsense in his head.
He tried, instead, to go back to being a detective. She was blond. The other victims had been blond, too. That might mean the killer was looking for blondes, not specifically prostitutes. Maybe the prostitutes had just been targets of opportunity.
He watched as she was moved, along with an IV, onto the bed. She appeared small, weightless. She’d probably appeared vulnerable to a killer.
“As you can…see, she can’t answer your questions,” Mrs. Merrick said. She went over to the bed and took her daughter’s hand in hers. “Will you please leave?”
He glanced at Manny and nodded. “We’ll stay in the lounge outside,” he promised.
She returned his gaze. “We don’t want her to stay in this city one minute longer than necessary.”
Cassidy looked back down at the sleeping beauty who’d been shifted onto the bed. She’d been strong and smart enough to survive—or had it just been luck? More to the point, had she seen the attacker?
He watched the older woman loom over the patient as if warding off evil spirits. “I have some more questions.”
“The other officers have all the necessary information,” she said curtly. “And I think I asked you to leave.”
Obviously his charm wasn’t working. Well, it seldom did. Still, he wasn’t going to let the injured woman go without talking to her.
“We’ll be waiting outside, Mrs. Merrick. She could save lives.”
Then he turned to his partner. “Let’s go, Manny.”
Hours went by. Cassidy had learned patience a long time ago, but now the stakes were very, very high. He’d asked the nurses at the station to alert him if there was any news. He also kept an eye on the door. He and Manny took turns getting coffee and sandwiches. Noon came and passed. Then a nurse hurried into the room, followed, a few moments later, by a man who was obviously a doctor.
When the nurse came out, Cassidy approached her. “Anything wrong?”
“She’s awake,” the nurse said.
“Does she remember anything?”
She looked apologetic. “Sorry. I can’t talk to you about it.”
He and Manny exchanged glances. Damn, but he wanted in that room.
But Cassidy also felt relief for her. He felt an odd tug somewhere inside that he feared had nothing to do with his current case. He told himself that he merely wanted whatever information the skater might have. That was all. He couldn’t even think of anything else. He stayed away from women these days. Especially women like her. She was so far out of his league as to be on another planet.
Then he wondered why he’d even harbored that fleeting thought. Even if by some miracle she agreed to stay in town, she wouldn’t look at him twice. And he sure as hell wasn’t interested in a relationship. Any relationship.
“Whatcha think?” Manny asked.
“I think we are going to have to be very convincing.” While waiting, he read over the preliminary crime report. He’d been surprised at her age. Twenty-four. She’d looked younger. Born in California. The report was ridiculously void of details about her, and he was hungry for more. Most of all he wanted to know how she’d survived the attack and whether she had seen her attacker’s face. As usual there was no other evidence. No fingerprints. No strands of hair. Only the victim.
He tried to think of her that way. The victim.
The doctor left the room, closing the door behind him. Cassidy strode toward him and displayed his badge. “How is she?”
“Conscious. She’s in a lot of pain, but that’s usual with this kind of injury.”
“Can I see her?”
The doctor hesitated.
“She might have seen her assailant,” Cassidy said. “We think it’s the same man who’s killed four women.”
“I’ve read about them. But weren’t most of the victims pros…working girls?”
“Yes. But now I’m wondering if he specifically targeted prostitutes or if they were just more vulnerable.”
The doctor nodded. “You can see her if her family approves. They want me to discharge her today so they can fly to Seattle.”
“Should she be moved this soon?”
The doctor shrugged. “We would like to keep her another night, but we can’t force her to stay.”
“Does she remember anything?”
“She’s a bit hazy about what happened. There’s no permanent damage, but sometimes there is amnesia concerning events immediately preceding a head injury. Now, excuse me.”
Cassidy stood aside as he left.
Manny came up to him as the doctor disappeared down the hall. “Ready to breach the lion’s den?”
“Lioness,” Cassidy corrected as he strode to the door and knocked.
The mother opened it and blocked the door. She looked at her watch, then back at him. “Do you never sleep, Detective?”
He tried again to give her a charming grin. “I’m told your daughter is awake,” he said.
“She’s ill and shouldn’t be disturbed,” Mrs. Merrick said.
“Mrs. Merrick,” he added patiently. “Perhaps you didn’t understand what I said earlier. Women have been killed. She’s the only one who’s survived an attack by this man, and she’s all we have. We need her help.”
Their eyes met. “Then, you don’t have anything. She didn’t see a face,” Mrs. Merrick finally said.
“Come in,” came a soft voice from within the room.
Cara Merrick looked startled, then dismayed.
“Mother, let them in.” The voice was stronger this time.
Reluctantly, the woman opened the door and stood aside, as Cassidy and Manny entered.
The curtains were closed and the room was dim. The figure in the bed looked fragile and small. Her hair was long and the color of honey, and her eyes were as blue as a summer’s evening sky. And they were intent on him.
Their gazes met, locked. An odd flash of recognition passed between them.
No. He didn’t believe in immediate attraction. Or whatever you called it.
Still, he almost stopped breathing. For one of the few times in his life, he was nearly tongue-tied. He told himself that the twitch in his heart was merely male admiration for a pretty woman. And for her courage.
He went to the side of her bed, as she pushed a button raising the head of the bed and bringing herself to a sitting position. “You said other women were killed?” Her eyes looked tired and her face was pale. He saw her wince as the bed moved.
He nodded. “I’m MacKay, a detective with the Atlanta Police Department. This is Manuel Sharman. We believe the same man who attacked you has killed at least four other women.”
Something flickered in her eyes. She had not known. His eyes went to Cara Merrick. The expression in her mother’s face