His Frozen Heart (25 page)

I hung up with Mom, a new
determination boiling to the surface. Moving the stick shift to
first, my mind was made up. I had some work to do, starting right
now.

Chapter 18

My car eased into the
visitor parking lot outside the police station. I had one advocate:
at least I hoped his support hadn’t been an act two nights ago. I
needed his help. The sun was still shining brightly from the
western sky, but the afternoon warmth was quickly diminishing.
Turning off my car, I looked at myself in the rearview mirror: the
eyes looking back were haggard. Too much had already happened, and
more ugliness might be right around the corner.
“
You can do this
,”
I told myself. As I swung the heavy door closed, I tucked my chin
inside the neck of my coat and sprinted for the police station’s
front door.

Inside the heavy metal
doors was a grand entryway. A large sign with an arrow pointing
toward the steps, read, “All Visitors MUST report to the
2
^nd
Floor Desk Sergeant.” The police station had an intimidating
feel to it, as if the designers purposely erected the most daunting
entrance they could manage. Tall thin windows stood at attention
along both sides of the entryway. The ripple in the lead-glass of
the window panes gave away their age. A thin wooden overhang
shielded the radiators on the floor running the length of the
windows.

The floor and steps of the police
station were a brilliant pattern of granite. The tan, brown, and
black swirls were peppered with flakes of some shiny mineral,
giving the appearance of gold dust embedded within. Thin black
no-skid strips ran the length of each granite step. These strips
seemed to be a minor precaution given the number of wet boots full
of melting snow that likely climbed these steps.

As I emerged onto the second floor, an
enormous wooden desk with two uniformed police officers greeted me.
I unzipped my coat and draped it over my arm. No other visitors
stood in front of the counter, and neither of the uniformed
policemen looked up from their computer monitors to acknowledge I
was there. I sized up the officer on the right as I stood in front
of the intimidating desk. He was trim, having an athletic
appearance which contrasted with the milky-pink complexion of his
wrinkled skin. The policeman was bald on top, but a thin strip of
light red hair, trimmed close, reached around the sides of his
head. I’m not saying the guy was old, but if he were milk, I
wouldn’t put him back in the refrigerator. His tie was straight and
his uniform shirt had enough starch to hold him in place for a
month.

His words were kind, but the tone with
which they were delivered was condescending. “How can I help you?”
The officer barely glanced at me while he was doing something he
obviously believed was important on his computer.

Standing up straight and in the most
direct voice I could project, I said, “I need to see Officer
Brown.”

The officer rolled his eyes, “Which
Officer Brown?”

“
Um, Charlie
Brown.”

The officer looked at a large white
board propped up against the wall and pulled off a single sheet of
paper that had been stuck to it with a magnet. Still choosing not
to make eye contact with me, he asked, “Do you have an
appointment?”

“
No. I didn’t know I needed
one. I just wanted to talk to him.”

“
He’s out on patrol. You’ll
need to make an appointment with him.” Finally turning toward me,
he allowed his eyes to rove over me. They gazed at me from the
boots I wore, pausing slightly at my hips, all the way up to my
chest. He must have liked what he was leering at because a
disgusting grin appeared on his face, which made the whole incident
that much more gross.

“
Fine.” Taking a few steps
away from the desk, I dug through my purse and found the business
card Officer Brown had given me before I made my way back down to
the first floor. I dialed the number and he picked it up on the
first ring.

“
Brown.”

“
Hi, Officer Brown.” I
scowled in the direction of the jerk who had basically dismissed me
without even offering to call him. “It’s Candy Kane from the other
night. Are you busy?”

“
Hey, I always have time
for someone whose name is almost as ridiculous as mine. What’s
up?”

“
I’m at the police station.
I wanted to talk to you, but the desk sergeant said you were out on
patrol, so I need to make an appointment to see you.”

“
He what? That must be
Lewis. Short guy, no hair, a real affinity to starch?”

Officer Brown’s description of the
schmuck behind the desk tickled me, “That’s the one.”

“
He’s a putz. I’m on the
fourth floor right now. Give me a minute and I’ll come get
you.”

True to his word, Officer Brown walked
down the steps and straight over to the uniform sitting behind the
desk. “I need a visitor badge for Miss Kane.” Officer Brown reached
for a tattered white binder, setting on top of the desk with large
block letters marked “VISITOR” and handed it to me. Neither of the
two police officers looked happy to see each other. Once I had
filled out my information in the binder, Officer Lewis gave me a
red plastic badge with a clip on the back and an enormous “V”
written in bright red on the front.

Officer Brown led me up to the fourth
floor, then directed me into a small conference room halfway down
the hallway. The walls were decorated with police academy
graduation photos. His eyes looked around the tiny room holding a
small table and four chairs. “My desk is in a bull pen, so this at
least has a little privacy. What’s on your mind?” Officer Brown
took a seat and motioned for me to take one across the little table
from him.

“
First, I wanted to say
thanks for the other night. I was pretty freaked out, and you were
great to me.”

He fished in his pocket and pulled out
a business card. A genuine look of concern crept over his face as
he offered the card to me, “I should have given you this Tuesday
night. Here’s a number you can call. The people who run this
hotline help crime victims all the time.”

He thought I wanted his help because I
was scared? Well, I was sort of scared, but not from the robbery by
itself. I started to give the hotline card back to him, but
reconsidered and tucked it in my wallet. “Do you know what all has
happened?”

“
I can’t discuss the
specifics of an ongoing investigation, even with one of the
victims, I’m sorry.” He waited a second, as if to drive the point
home, then added, “Those are the rules.”

I didn’t need a lesson on
investigative protocol. I needed that jackass from last night read
the riot act for being such a douche. “Last night there was a home
invasion in one of my neighbor’s houses. It was the same guy who
beat up Libby, shot at me at the gas station, and broke into my
house yesterday morning.”

Given his reaction, it looked as
though he was aware of all four incidents. “Look, Candy, it’s all
part of an investigation. I can’t share any of the details with
you. If you want police protection, I can arrange a detail.”
Reminding him that the protection on our street did Mrs. Bavcock no
good would have been rude.

“
I don’t want protection. I
need you to find this guy. I found out this afternoon that the
guy’s first name is Grey.”

Officer Brown’s expression changed,
“And what is your source?”

“
Teddy’s little brother,
Tony, paid me a visit at school today. He told me I needed to get
out of town. He said Grey and Teddy were both looking for me.” When
Officer Brown didn’t say anything, I concluded, “But you already
knew his name because I used the security camera to zoom in on his
license plate at the gas station and you checked his credit card
receipt. Right?”

Officer Brown shook his head, “The
license plate on the Nova had been stolen off of a late model GMC
truck. The credit card was also stolen. Tell me everything Tony
told you today.”

“
That was pretty much it.
He said Grey and Teddy were both bad news, and he told me I needed
to get out of town. I asked him about another guy who had been at
the bar, but Tony said that other guy wasn’t involved.”

I wasn’t sure where it had
materialized from, but Officer Brown was taking notes on a small
notebook in front of him, “Who was this other guy? You didn’t
mention him Tuesday night.”

I teetered on whether I should tell
him the truth or not. I knew his name, heck, I probably knew more
about Mark than was in any police database, but I wasn’t convinced
he had anything to do with what had happened to Libby and me. From
the way Tony had described Mark, implicating him could be bad on
lots of levels if I were wrong. The last thing I wanted to do was
to cause trouble for Mark, and possibly for Dave.

“
It doesn’t matter because
Tony says everything that has happened is Teddy and Grey.” I
watched Officer Brown’s expression. His face was relaxed; his green
eyes watched me the way a cat observes a mouse: interested, paying
attention to each minute detail.

Feigning ignorance, Officer Brown
said, “I was under the impression the other man’s name was Mark
Brewer. Do you have any further information to share? Is there
anything else you neglected to tell me Tuesday?”

Crap. These cops were comparing notes,
and he no doubt knew about my run-in with the jerk cop from last
night. He believed I was withholding information from him? Well, I
was, but nothing important. Did he agree with what the stupid cop
from last night accused me of? That I was involved? He must have
noticed my reaction because Officer Brown restated his question,
“I’m sorry – not neglected. You were in shock. Have you remembered
anything else that might help us with the
investigation?”

“
No. But after that Grey
guy broke into my neighbor’s house last night, one of the cops
basically accused me of being involved. I didn’t cook this up. I
wouldn’t hurt Libby or scare Mrs. Bavcock.” My emotions were
gaining momentum, and I needed to get them under
control.

Officer Brown nodded, “That was
Fletcher.” I raised my brow. Officer Brown clarified, “The officer
on the scene who made those accusations – his name’s Fletcher. He’s
very by-the-book, and his gut tells him there is no way something
this elaborate was done over such a small amount of
cash.”

A sliver of hopelessness began
gripping me, “What do you think?”

His hand reached across the table in a
comforting way, “I saw you at the gas station, Candy. People can’t
fake that kind of fear. Your reaction is on the gas station’s
surveillance recordings.” He paused, looking me directly in the
eye. “No one can convince me you had anything to do with
it.”

A breath escaped that I had held
involuntarily, “So, you believe me?”

“
It doesn’t matter what I
believe. It only matters what I can prove.” He must have realized
he was touching me because he pulled his hand away from mine as if
I had a snake attached to my arm. “Are you planning to leave
town?”

Without hesitating, I answered,
“No.”

“
If you change your mind,
call and tell me before you go. It could look suspicious if you
just up and disappeared.” My eyes narrowed as I wondered if I were
putting too much faith in Officer Brown. Reading my expression
quickly, he added, “Hey, relax. Just make sure I know where you
are.”

“
Why, so Fletcher knows
where to pick me up after he fabricates enough
evidence?”

Scowling at me, he answered, “No one
is fabricating any evidence. If anyone needs to corroborate one of
your statements, we have to be able to get in contact with you.
Being scared and wanting to go somewhere safe is a perfectly
reasonable action.”

“
I’m not scared.” My words
felt stronger coming out than they sounded.

Gently, his soft green eyes warned me,
“Well, you should be. This Grey guy, whoever he is, seems pretty
scary. I’ve watched those surveillance videos a dozen times – he’s
a predator. Mr. Sanders said you probably didn’t know about it, but
there was a hidden camera inside the store pointed in on the cash
register – I saw the whole thing. You’re lucky to be alive.
Monsters like him, they keep hunting until they catch their prey or
a better mark presents itself. Let me assign a security detail to
you.”

“
No thanks.” I didn’t come
here to have my hand held. I came here to get the investigation
focused on where it was supposed to be – not on me. “So, the stolen
license plate. Where was it taken from?”

Officer Brown’s eyes narrowed
marginally. “Why do you ask?”

“
Because Tony lives around
here. He wouldn’t have made a special trip to my school today to
warn me if he wasn’t close. I assume you got surveillance video
from Bank Shot, and you have Teddy’s photograph from it. You have
Grey’s photo from the gas station, yet I haven’t seen anything on
the news asking people to contact the police with information. That
must mean you have some idea of who these guys are, and you’re
trying not to scare them off.”

Officer Brown didn’t comment on a
single word I had said. After several seconds of silence I asked,
“So if the license plate was stolen from somewhere out of town,
maybe that’s where Grey lives. Tony says Grey and Teddy are from
Kansas City.”