His Frozen Heart (21 page)

The middle-aged police officer
furrowed his brow, “You want to drop your charges against him? The
report says he and the suspect who just did a home invasion on your
neighbor are friends. Besides, trespassing is the least of his
worries. He’s looking at an assault charge.”

“
Assault? He didn’t even
talk to Mrs. Bavcock or me this morning.”

“
No, but the officer who
escorted him to the hospital was assaulted when Mr. Brewer escaped
custody.”

I hadn’t bothered to ask Dave how he
got away. I figured someone turned their head and he ran. This was
going to get ugly fast. Maybe if I could make the police officer
understand that he shouldn’t have been in custody to begin with,
the other charge might go away, too. “They’re not friends. Dave’s
brother might know the guy who broke into Mrs. Bavcock’s house
tonight and mine this morning.”

“
Who is his
brother?”

“
I’ve only met him once:
his name’s Mark. The guy who broke into my house mistook Dave for
Mark, and I didn’t know Dave had a brother until he told
me.”

The policeman shook his head as if my
words were spoken in another language. “So you’ve spoken with Mr.
Brewer since he escaped custody?”

Crap. Me and my big mouth. His
expression was all business as he waited for my answer, “Yes. I saw
him at the hospital this afternoon when I went to check on my
roommate who had been attacked by the same guy you’re looking for
now.”

He answered in a condescending way,
“Mr. Brewer is a fugitive.”

“
That was my mistake
earlier. How do I officially drop the charges?”

“
You can fill out some
paperwork at the station, but he’s a person of interest in several
crimes.” The pen in his hand pointed at Dave’s truck which I had
left up the street, “I couldn’t help but notice that vehicle is
registered to Mr. Brewer. When did you borrow his truck? Is it safe
to assume he is in the area, too?”

Double crap. “Um, he’s not here. I
just came here to check on Mrs. B.” Several crimes? Could this be
true? I couldn’t get involved with a criminal, no matter how good a
kisser he may be.

As I began to walk away from the
astute police officer, he reached out and stopped me, “You, Miss
Kane, are a person of interest, as well.”

“
What?!” My temper flared,
“Are you nuts?” How could they think I had anything to do with
shooting myself, attacking my roommate, or trespassing in my own
house?

“
You have to admit it looks
a little suspicious. Your roommate is attacked in a house that is
rented by you. Shortly after the attack, someone robs you, who you
yourself told the police you owed money to. You paid that debt with
your employer’s money.”

“
I didn’t owe the guy
anything!”

“
As I understand, you and
your roommate were involved in illegal gambling activities, and the
man wanted his money back. Who could blame him? He fired at you
through bullet-proof glass, so you were in no danger. Why would you
give him money from the register if he couldn’t harm
you?”

Fully on the defense now, I answered,
“I was scared. I don’t imagine he knew I was standing behind
bullet-proof glass.”

“
Maybe not, but don’t you
think he would have figured it out after the first shot? Why would
he keep shooting if it weren’t for show?”

“
Your theory sucks. Maybe
he was trying to scare me. I pressed the silent alarm before he
pulled out his gun. The police were already en route.”

“
Right again, you pressed
the alarm because he was loitering by the bathroom. Are you sure
this isn’t some sort of scheme you had cooked up that has gone bad,
and you don’t know how to get out of it?”

“
No! My roommate is in a
drug-induced coma right now. Her doctor put her there because her
brain is bruised. She’s my best friend. I didn’t have anything to
do with any of this.”

“
Yet, you know the
shooter.”

“
No, I don’t know the
shooter.”

“
My mistake, your boyfriend
knows the shooter.”

“
I don’t have a boyfriend!
Dave Brewer is a
friend
, and it’s his brother Mark who may know the
shooter.”

“
Ah, yes, the mystery Mark.
You just learned of his existence today? Convenient story. You
return to your home and that same shooter, who you allege robbed
you, was waiting in your house with one of your
friends.”

“
Dave wasn’t waiting in my
house with him. Ask Mrs. B. He got here after I did this
morning.”

He scribbled illegible notes on his
pad. I felt the watchful eyes of my neighbors gathered on the
sidewalk now hanging on his every word. “You have an answer for
everything, don’t you, Miss Kane? So tell me: you are supposed to
spend the night with a neighbor, but at the last minute you decide
to stay elsewhere. Yet the man you have convinced the entire police
force is pursuing you, is in your neighbor’s house where you are
supposed to be. Somehow, you know he’s there, yet the patrolman
stationed on your street is unaware. Have I missed
anything?”

I was at a loss for words. I felt the
heavy stares of my neighbors. Their whispers from the sidewalk were
angry. They were angry and now all questioned my role in all the
awful things that had happened. The policeman, too, noticed the mob
of neighbors standing on the sidewalk. He asked, “So how did you
know the shooter was threatening Mrs. Bavcock’s safety this
evening?”

My voice was meek, absent the earlier
fury, “I called her and she told me.”

He began scribbling again. “She told
you the shooter was in her house?”

“
No. I mean, yes. She
didn’t come right out and say he was there. I heard a cat hissing
while I was on the phone with her.”

The policeman actually smiled at me
like we were playing some stupid game, and he was about to say
“checkmate.” “You’re telling me her cat told you there was an
intruder in the house?”

“
Yes!” I shouted like a
game show contestant. Feeling his contempt, I tried to explain, “I
mean. Her cat didn’t tell me. She told me it was her dead cat, so I
knew it couldn’t have been him.”

I began shivering, and I wasn’t sure
if it was from the cold or from his ludicrous interrogation. “Miss
Kane, how about you have a seat for a minute.” He motioned for me
to go to the closest police car. I shook my head, but he gripped my
arm and led me toward the vehicle. When he held the back door open
and tried to force me to take a seat, I did my impersonation of a
cat being lowered into a bath, my fingers clinging to the body of
the car as he tried to help me in.

“
No!”

“
You’re refusing to
cooperate?”

“
No, I’m just not getting
into the car. Look, Mrs. B wants me to spend the night with her.
She’s scared. Get out of my way.”

His hand was on my shoulder as his
other hand rested on a stun gun at his waist. “I suggest you get
into the car, Miss Kane.”

Something about his threat awakened
the anger in me a second time, “I suggest you keep your hand off of
me,” I spat.

In a low voice, only loud enough for
me to hear, he accused, “Here’s what I think. It’s a pretty
peculiar situation. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be
alone with Mrs. Bavcock. If I have to take you down to the station
to keep you from entering her premises, I will. I may not be able
to lock you up for good, but I can hold you for forty-eight
hours.”

I saw Mrs. Bavcock standing in her
yard, desperately trying to see what was going on, worry etched on
the lines of her face. Forty-eight hours. What could happen to her
in that amount of time? Would he come back here? I’d already
learned that a policeman staked out on our street was not enough of
a deterrent to keep this creep away. Reluctantly, I agreed, “Fine,
just let me tell her you don’t want me to stay, and I can go
somewhere else.”

The overbearing, overweight, jackass
of a cop followed me to where Mrs. B stood looking hopefully. I
didn’t want for her to know what this schmuck believed. She was
frail, scared, and except for her furry roommates, she was alone. I
couldn’t have her thinking that I had any part in this. My lips
pursed together in a thin smile when I delivered the news, “Mrs.
Bavcock, I’m not going to be able to stay over tonight after
all.”

Her questioning glance shot between
the policeman and me, “Well, why not?”

I looked at the arrogant moron beside
me desperately wanting to spit out all the idiotic conclusions he
had drawn, but decided that would for sure land me in jail. “Maybe
another night, okay?”

“
I don’t understand,
Candy.” Her eyes began clouding with fright again, and I reached
over her pristine white picket fence to try to reassure her that
she would be safe, when the dork in blue held his hand up to stop
me.

Nothing escaped Mrs. B. She saw his
hand block me. I didn’t offer an answer to her unspoken question,
instead saying, “I’ll call you tomorrow, Mrs. Bavcock. Have one of
the officers check all your rooms before they leave, and then lock
your door tight when they go. Don’t open it for anyone.”

She pressed her lips together, not
understanding my change of heart. As I waved my goodbye, I made a
straight line to Dave’s truck. The same cop was just a few paces
behind me. I’d watched enough television to know he was operating
on theory only, which was fine because his conclusions were absurd,
and unless he fabricated some sort of evidence, I would never be
charged with anything.

He stuck out his chest as if trying to
intimidate me. I wasn’t biting. “I have a few more questions for
you.”

Ignoring his words and still fuming at
him, “Great. Let me know when your boss wants to talk to me. I’m
done talking to you.” I climbed into the truck, and he grabbed hold
of my door. Instead of quietly going away, I shouted, “One more
thing. If anything happens to that little old lady because you
stopped me from staying here to protect her, I’ll talk to every
reporter from here to New York City. I’ll post interviews on
Facebook, YouTube and anywhere else I can find. I’ll make it my
mission to tell the whole world what a moron this city has working
for it!”

Coolly, he responded, “That sounds
suspiciously like a threat.”

“
No, a warning. She is your
responsibility; you’d better make sure she’s safe.” I yanked the
door free from his grasp, turned over the ignition and backed the
wrong way up the street to leave because squad cars were still
blocking traffic in both directions on the street.

Before I had rounded the second
corner, I dialed Dave back. He picked up with a sweet tone,
“Calling to wish me sweet dreams?”

I ignored his seductive words, “Not
hardly. I’m not sure, but I think I just royally pissed off a cop.
I’m on my way back to your place, but I’m not sure if we should
stay there.”

“
What? Is the shooter
following you?”

“
No.” I glanced in my
rearview mirror on instinct and didn’t see any headlights following
me. “I don’t think he’s following me. Shit, I don’t know anymore.
Is there someplace we can go other than your apartment?”

“
I’ll think of somewhere.
How quick can you get here?”

“
Five minutes.”

I hung up. When I pulled up to Dave’s
garage, the right side bay door opened, and he waved me in. Once I
had pulled the truck inside, he closed the garage door behind me.
Dave opened the driver’s door to the truck for me to climb out. My
hurt and anger must have still been pretty clear on my face because
as I stood he gathered me in his arms. Dave’s voice was full of
concern when he said, “Tell me what happened.”

I did, all the horrible details –
everything the stupid cop had said. Dave shut off all the lights
downstairs then guided me toward the steps. I shook my head, “We
should go. We can’t stay. If the jackass ran your tags, he knows
this is your address. It won’t be long until they bust in
here.”

“
My registration and
driver’s license both have my address listed as Mr. Kravitz’s
house. I called Kravitz to fill him in on what was going on. He
won’t give them this address. If they pull my tax records, they
could find this address, but if the cops think you had anything to
do with what’s gone on, I don’t think we have to worry about their
investigative skills. We’ll be fine.” He paused for a minute then
gave my hand a gentle tug that sent shivers through my body, “Come
upstairs.”

A part of me started to argue,
especially remembering what the jackass cop had said about the
assault charge. Before I could say anything, Dave moved in close
holding one solitary finger to my lips. “Shhh, come upstairs.”
Halfway up, on the step where he had sent my senses into a tailspin
with his kiss, I remembered exactly why I ran back to
him.

He turned the lights on in the
apartment. Dave went to the kitchenette and opened the
refrigerator. He uncapped a strawberry wine cooler and handed it to
me. I gratefully took it. Underage drinking was nothing compared to
what they were considering charging me with, and at this point, I
seriously needed something to calm down. As I stood in his
kitchenette, one of the policeman’s questions was still bothering
me: Dave was a person of interest in multiple crimes. “Dave, how’d
you get away from the cops today?”