Little Belle Gone Page 2

  “No Captain, that will not be necessary.” Her calm tone, with its formal distance, was her norm, especially with him. Always beyond reach, she was. He nodded and she turned and walked off into the dark of the park, completely unafraid of what might lie in its depths.

  “See you tomorrow, Elizabeth.” She merely lifted a hand in acknowledgment as she drifted out of view among the trees and shadows. After all, what does a shark have to fear from mere fish.

  Chapter 2

  The lights changed and the traffic stopped. Feeling the soft soles of her sneakers move over the street in front of her building brought on a small sigh of relief. Her apartment was the one place she felt truly safe. It was her sanctuary that no one who knew her from work had ever seen, not even the Captain. Almost jumping onto the sidewalk, she paused for a second in front of her door, but the doorman was no where to be found. In the four and a half years since she moved in she had never actually opened the door herself, the doorman was beyond reliable. For a moment, she bristled, but the desire to lean against her closed door calmed her nerves. Assuming that perhaps he had to use the restroom, or was helping another tenant with something, she brushed against the door and pushed into the brightly lit, marble encased, lobby. The instant her eyes adjusted to the lights, she regretted ignoring the warning bristle seconds earlier. There, in the center of the room were two bodies. Her stomach turned, not at the sight of the blood, but at the eerie familiarity of the scene.

  Pulling the ice around her heart a little tighter, she knelt just outside of the scene and took it in. Two male bodies lay face down in the center of the floor, blood pooled around their abdomens, causing the whole of the marble lined room to reek of brine and iron. Studying their features and clothing, recognition washed over her with a sickening rush. While both bodies were male, one was clothed in a familiar floral-print dress. His face was obscured by the pool of his hair, but the other body was definitely the doorman, the uniform was unmistakable. Their hands were bound behind their backs with duct tape and several deep stab wounds were visible along both sides of their spines. Pulling her cell phone from the hidden pocket inside the hip of her skirt, she called dispatch. Training kicked in, shutting down her heart just as it was beginning to ache against her sternum. With a flat tone, she gave them her cadet badge number and a run down of the scene spreading before her.

  When the call ended she moved to the elevators and locked them down using the emergency responder’s code. Something was wrong, there was something missing from the lobby. Looking around, she realized that the desk clerk was not at his post. Fear gripped her more tightly as she looked back down at the male body clad in the floral dress. Sure enough, she could picture his face now, his pony tail pulled back neatly along his neck. This must be him. No other resident should have to see this. These men had been here for years, selflessly helping all who passed by with groceries or the occasional wayward dog or unruly child. She had kept her distance, but their professionalism had put her at ease as she passed them each day. Returning to the door, she steeled her nerves and stood guard. So much for a quiet evening at home. While she waited for the detectives and the coroner van, she studied the crime scene again, making a mental note of every thing she had touched or stepped over. She tried to settle the uneasy pinch in her gut that the image before her stirred. So familiar, she had to close her eyes against the memories that climbed up from her mind’s secret hoard.

  It took only about fifteen minutes for the force of homicide division to descend on her once secret place. So many questions, so many faces. It took hours for the coroner to collect the bodies and the C.S.I.s, some of whom she had just left working the scene in the park, to work slowly through the lobby. As the stretchers rolled past her, weighed down by the heavily laden, cold, black, body bags, she closed her eyes against the thought of death.

  “Are you alright, kiddo?” Her brows pinched at the term. The voice, deep and cool, had called her something she found more disturbing than any obscene or foul name she had heard in the park.

  “Don’t ever call me that.” Her voice growled between gritted teeth as she face the person belonging to that voice. Something inside her, deep, secret and utterly neglected, fluttered slightly. He was, surprisingly, not what she had expected. He was young, though older than her by at least five years, tall, six feet if not more, and lean. His suit jacket, navy blue and very well made, hung unbuttoned over his white dress shirt and was held open by the long, well-formed, hands on his hips. His face was lean and strong, topped by what she could only imagine was soft thick black hair, and featured piercing sky blue eyes. Her hazel eyes flashed stormy gray under the thick arch of her auburn lashes, as his concerned expression soured at her biting words.

  “Sorry, ma’am. As I was about to say, the department can provide you with information should you need to speak to a grief counselor. A discovery like this can lead some to nightmares.” His voice was strained, terse, to match hers.

  “She’s fine.” Turning, she watched the Captain push into the lobby of her building. Great, she thought to herself, as another piece of her privacy was shattered.

  “Elizabeth, I expect to be briefed on this situation tomorrow. Are you planing to stay here or do you need a hotel room?” The detective standing in front of her looked back and forth between them several times before he spoke.

  “Captain Moreano, you know this girl?”

  “GIRL!?” She was dangerously close to losing her control. Exhaustion and stress were weakening her usually cool exterior to the point that her drawl, something she could normally completely suppress, came flooding forward. Not to mention the fact that this man, who had already made offenses she would normally never forgive, caused her blood to run hot, hotter than she had ever felt, were she honest with herself. Her eyes flashed coldly at the attractive man glaring back at her. Moreano placed a light hand on her slender shoulder in an effort to calm her. “If we are finished, I need to sleep. My test is tomorrow morning.” It was nearly two am and her final academy exam was promptly at nine.

  “I can make a call and postpone it, if you need…” Moreano didn’t get a chance to finish as she side stepped out of his unwanted touch.

  “No need. I will be fine. Can I go now?” She asked coldly of the man in the navy suit, but she didn’t wait for the response. Gliding inches past his broad shoulders, she strode purposefully to the stairs door, and, without looking back, she disappeared through it. Anger warred with sleep as she jogged up the six flights of stairs. Reaching her floor, her heart calmed as she clutched her keys. Home, she was finally home. Within minutes, she was safe in her cocoon, doors bolted and wrapped in her deceptively feminine, soft lavender bedding. Sleep came fast, the last image to cross her mind was that of the detective, standing over her, his jaw clinched against her sharp retorts.

  Chapter 3

  Despite her lack of sleep, and the stress of discovering a murder scene in the wee hours, the cadet graduation test had been beyond simple. The most aggravating part had been the time constraints. Each section had a set time limit and finishing early had meant sitting in silence, watching the other cadets struggle with their exams. She had sat perfectly still, not yielding, as some did, to sleep or bored doodling or fidgeting. It only stood to point out to her how little patience she had for her peers. Resigning herself to the lost minutes, she replayed the attack in the park and then, reluctantly, her discovery in her building’s lobby.

  That had been her morning, but now, nearly three in the afternoon, she was sitting stiffly in the Captain’s office. Having just finished her exposition, she drummed her sharp fingers on the arm of her chair as she listened to his one-sided phone conversation. Hanging up the line, he lifted the phone again, pressed a short series of numbers and ordered someone to join them. Elizabeth gritted her teeth. Company was unwelcome, always. When the door opened to allow the lithe frame of the young detective from the night before to enter, her disquiet deepened to ring in her ears. She wanted to stand, take a more di
rect position against his entrance, feeling vulnerable sitting with her back to him as she was, unable to face him directly. She was at a distinct combat disadvantage, but she knew it was inadvisable to move just yet.

  “Good, have a seat detective Barrow. I’d like to formally introduce our newest homicide detective, Elizabeth Cord.”

  “What?” They shouted in unison, followed by a huffed and frustrated groan.

  “Captain, I am not a detective. Besides, what about the bait program we are running in the park? It’s important to me!” Again, her drawl peeked at the corners of her words, drawing the unwelcome gaze of the man who was in the process of plopping unceremoniously, though surprisingly gracefully, into the chair beside her.

  “Bait program?” His eyes widened questioningly, but seeing the furrow that crossed her shapely brow, he changed targets. “What do you mean, new detective? She can’t be a year out of high school.” The chuckle he added to the end of his cut made her curl her fingers into her palms, clinching her fists so tightly she could feel her nails cutting into the skin. Opening her mouth, she intended to reduce him to dust, but the Captain raised a staying hand.

  “Barrow, that’s enough, Elizabeth calm down. I know this is a shock, but I have more important news. By the way, Barrow, I would refrain from teasing her about her age as Elizabeth is recently twenty four years old, rather sensitive about it, and far more capable than you seem able to understand, unfortunately.” Her smile was wicked and cold, but faded fast in the face of Moreano’s scowl. “She also just passed her Academy exam with a perfect score, meaning that there is no reason for me to hold her back as a patrol rookie for the minimum year. Using the year she has already spent in the bait program, I am promoting her immediately. You are our leading detective, at least for now, so I am assigning her to you for training. She is going to help you work the murder of those two men last night. Her previous knowledge of the building, and the men themselves, could prove useful.”

  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.

  Chapter 4

  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 t
he 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.