It's A Shame (4 page)

“Grace
!” he shouted, his tone clipped.

“What is it?”

“This idiot won’t let me accept your package, says
you
have to sign for it,” he mumbled indicating with his thumb behind him.

“Package?  This late?  Who the hell…” I stood up, quickly changing the tone of my voice, thinking it better to diffuse his anger, “Um…No… No problem.”  I uttered. “I’ve got it.  Tell him I’ll be a minute.”  I wrapped my robe around me and walked to the bathroom sink
to splash cool water over my face. After I dried myself off with a towel, I walked through the bedroom and living area into the hallway. I smiled weakly taking the proffered pen and signed my name on the paper clipped to the clipboard. 

Joe, the
part-time doorman, watched me, a crass smile on his face.  I followed his field of vision to find his gaze firmly planted on my breasts.  I knew you couldn’t see through it, my robe was thick, but his staring made me very uncomfortable. Cole noticed immediately and put his body between Joe and me. I do believe I heard him snarl. It seemed Joe was fully aware he’d interrupted our tête-à-tête, and was more than happy he did. He stood there smiling eerily.  His whole demeanor gave me a creepy vibe.

“Thank you.
..Grace…um, Miss Preston,” Joe uttered under his breath.

My eyes widened as I
looked at him, surprised by his casual use of my name.  The doormen, as well as the rest of the staff here, had always acted with one hundred percent professionalism, keeping their greetings to Miss, Ms., Mister, etc. at all times.  I eyed him as I took the extended package.  He tipped his hat stepping backwards.

“Will there be anything else,
Miss
Preston?” he asked, the same odd grin clinging to his mouth.

“You got your signature.” Cole stepped closer to
wards Joe and I had to stifle a laugh as I watched Joe quickly take two steps back.

“No Joe.  Thank you.”
I interjected trying to deflect the tension that was rapidly building. I started to turn when I realized the hour.  “Joe?”  I asked facing him, “who delivered a package this late.  It is a little
unusual
isn’t it?”

Joe smiled
insipidly, his eyes never leaving the imposing, hostile male standing between us.  “Yes, it is. Looks like the new guy Pat didn’t see it earlier. I spotted it when I came on duty tonight.” He stammered. “I knew you just arrived so I figured I’d bring it up to you…in case it was important.” He blurted out, obviously uncomfortable.

“Mmm.”  I eyed him suspiciously
. “Thanks Joe. Goodnight.”

I turned around and carried the package into the kitchen looking for something to open it with.  I opened the drawer
finding a pair of scissors.  I could hear Cole curse under his breath as he locked the door after Joe, slipping the chain into place.  I peeled the tape back and opened the top peering inside.

“
Oh…Oh…Holy Shit!”  I screamed.  “Holy Shit… what the hell!”

I looked up to see Cole standing in the d
oorway of the kitchen.  When he saw the terror in my eyes, a look of concerned surprise filled his once angry glare. He crossed over to where the now discarded box lay on the floor and picked it up placing it on the counter.  He spread the flaps and looked inside.  His head snapped up, and he pushed the box further back on the counter top and quickly walked to where I stood visibly shaking. Wrapping his arms around me, he guided me over to the breakfast bar.

“Is…is that what I think it is?” I asked horrified.

“Looks like it.  Stay here.”  He walked over to the wall, lifted the receiver and dialed 911. 

“I need to file an
emergency report, my name…my name is Cole Grayson…. Grayson…G.R.A.Y.S.O.N…I reside at 1442 Central Park West…Yes…correct…PH 1…The Penthouse…Yes.”  He looked at me and I could see he was clearly irritated, his patience wearing thin.  His eyes opened wide when it registered I was trembling violently.  I could feel the blood drain from my face.  Then the first wave of nausea washed over me leaving me lightheaded, and weak in the knees. 

Cole promptly walked over to me, stretching the
phone cord to its capacity, and dragged the stool out from under the breakfast bar, gently pushing me down on it.  Standing next to me he answered the questions asked with a controlled anger.  His arm around me held my body close to his for support as his hand rubbing circles on my back.

“Grace Preston.
Yes.  P.R.E.S.T.O.N.  She is here now.  If at all possible, I’d like to request Detective Dean Johansen.  Yes… I’d appreciate that…Yes, we have a
history
. Thank you. Thank you for your help. My cell number is…” Cole rattled off a series of numbers that I was unable to register, my mind no longer able to process what he was saying at all.  My head pounded in concert with my heart.  I lifted both hands to the sides of my head and using my fingers, rubbed both temples hard in an attempt to push the throbbing dull ache back inside.

“I don’t understand.  Who
would do…I mean why?  Why me, who would…who?” I said, my voice fading, a sick feeling spread through my gut.  “Excuse me, I think I’m going to be sick…” I jumped off the stool and ran to the bathroom.

Cole
quickly hung up and was right behind me as I lowered myself to my knees in front of the toilet.  He leaned in grabbing my hair holding it off my face while I vomited…
so much for our lovely dinner
.

When I was finished, he took a face cloth from
the linen closet and held it under the cold running water. Squeezing it out he pressed it to the back of my neck. I immediately felt better. The shocking chill was stunning, sobering.  Still weak, I turned and sat cross-legged on the cold marble floor, one arm holding the facecloth in place, the other slung around my knees. Shaking my head, I looked at Cole unable to focus. I stared right through him, as if he weren’t even there.

“Who would do such a horrible thing?”  My eyes filled with tears, I blinked them away quickly.  “Was it real
?  I mean, is it real?  Human…” I swallowed hard, feeling the bile rise in the back of my throat.

“Looks like it.”  He leaned down and helped me to my feet
. Enclosing me in his arms he held me close and kissed my forehead.  “Grace, go inside and get dressed. The police will be here soon.” He spoke gently, as if I were a child.

“That poor girl…is she…?”  I left that question open, not willing to go down that road.
I glanced into the mirror in the foyer and realized my robe had partially opened revealing a considerably good view of my naked breasts.

“Damn.
” I closed my robe and made my way to the bedroom returning a few minutes later wearing a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.  I pulled my hair up into a high ponytail.

“Better?”  I smiled weakly.

“Much.”  He said taking my hand, walking me over to the sofa.  “Sit down.  I’ll get you a drink.”

I had a feeling of déjà vu watching Cole walk over to the bar
to pour us a drink.

“Drink this.”

I grabbed the glass he held out bringing it to my lips and immediately drained the contents.

“Another?” He raised a perfectly arched brow.

“No thank you,” I said handing him the empty glass, “I’ll just throw it up.” I smiled weakly.  “Did I hear you correctly?  You asked for that detective. Detective Johansen…from…when…Jonathan…”

I was unable to finish my thought.  A horrible chill ran down my spine causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end.  “You don’t think this is related to…”

“I don’t know.  I just thought if this,” his eyes darted to where the box stood on the counter, “is a threat of some kind, he’d be the best to advise us.”

“Oh.”  I
forcibly pushed the thought of Jonathan out of my head afraid I’d vomit again. Suddenly I thought of Michelle.  “Cole, could you go and check on Michelle, Please?”

“Of course.  Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

I heard him leave the apartment, walk down the hall, and knock on Michelle’s door.  A few minutes later I could hear Michelle and Cole talking in the distance, which quickly turned into a loud expletive followed by my door flying open. Michelle stood in the archway to my living room holding a box that very much resembled the one I had just opened. She was wearing sweats and a tee shirt, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with her free hand. Her hair was sticking up in a messy ponytail perched on the top of her head.

“Grace?”  She asked tentatively
holding out the box for Cole to take.

She was trembling, her face paled as she looked from me to the box on the counter and back to me again.
   “Gracie, you ok?”

“Yes.”  I looked down at my fidgeting fingers, trying not to let her see the terror in my eyes.

“Grace.”  Her tone hardened. 

“Shelle, why does shit like this keep happening?”

“I don’t know Gracie…” She paused and turned her head to Cole.  “Cole, can you grab us both a drink…Holy Fuck.”  Michelle walked over to the sofa and sat down throwing her arms around me holding me tightly.

“We’ll get through this.”  She reassured me, with a lacing of doubt in her voice.  “Fuck… fuck…so help me if I find
out that that crazy fucker had anything to do with this.  He’ll wish he died.”

“Police should be here soon
,” Cole confirmed.

“Good.”  She tightened her grip on me. “You should ask for the detective from…” she trailed off.

“I did.”

They worked in unison
. It was almost comical watching as they tried to comfort me while maintaining the steadiness in their voices. I found myself trying to hold back a laugh several times. Then thought of the poor girl whose
finger
…my stomach rolled…
Damn it.

Chapter
4

It was thirty
long minutes later when the doorbell finally rang.  Cole opened the door and stepped back as Detective Dean Johansen and his partner Detective Carrie Verdi walked into the apartment.  They quickly exchanged handshakes and the usual pleasantries.  Dean’s gaze combed the room as though he were assessing a crime scene.  His intelligent brown eyes not overlooking, or missing, a single detail.

He walked over to the counter, reached into his pocket
and pulled out blue plastic gloves. The sound of the plastic snapping as he pulled them over his hands, startled me. After slipping them on he opened the flap of the cardboard box, peering inside. Without so much as a grimace, he tilted the box to the side allowing Detective Verdi to look inside.  She pulled her gloves on before taking the box from his hands and lifted it up, looking for any address or markings on the outside, I assumed. 

Without saying a word or glancing in our direction, h
e pulled out his keys and opened the small knife that dangled from the key ring and cut through the tape that secured the box Michelle had received. He pried the flaps open and reaching in pulled out a note card.

Detective Johansen scanned the note briefly and handed it to Detective Verdi.

I sat down and Michelle sat next to me. Cole walked around the back of the sofa and rested his hands on both of our shoulders.

Detective Johansen walked over and stood in front of us.

“You two causing trouble for me again?” He asked as he raised his eyes to look at us.

He
stared directly at us both trying to look as dispassionate as he could but failed miserably.

“What does the note say Detective?” Michelle inquired in her no nonsense way.

“Miss Maloney…” Detective Johansen started to respond.

“I think we have a right to know what the note said.” She looked at me and we both nodded
. “It
was
addressed to us, wasn’t it…so…”

Before she could finish
her tirade, Detective Johansen reluctantly held the note out for Cole.

Cole looked at the card, and I could see the anger veil over his normally handsome features as he read it.

“Don’
t keep us in suspense here Cole.” Michelle demanded as she stood up.

Cole looked
briefly at Michelle then back down to the card. He shifted his weight to his other foot, and I could see the tick in his jaw. That along with the whitening of his knuckles as his hand balled into a fist, was enough to let me know he was getting angrier by the minute. He cleared his throat and began to read.

“
My gift finds you breathing

To my dismay

This is a warning

Stay out of my way

The poor girl is suffering

That much is true

Her finger is pointing

Directly at you

When I come across you

Some darkening night

My blade you will feel

As you see your last light

Look around every corner

Look under your bed

I know where you sleep

I’m there in your head

How many flowers

Does a dozen
make?

And how much more pain

Do you think she can take?”

I heard Cole say
ing the words, although the voice wasn’t his. My ears started ringing and I could feel my heart beating erratically in my chest.

“Motherfucker…” Michelle’s
exclamation snapped me out of my reverie.

“Detective…” Cole’s head snapped up and he looked directly at the two detectives.

Detective
Johansen raised his cellphone to his ear and we all listened intently as he called for a CSI team.  Detective Verdi handed the box back to Dean who placed it onto the counter next to the one he just opened that Michelle received. After he ended the call he turned and walked over to where Michelle and I stood, Detective Verdi following close behind.

When he saw Michelle and I exchange looks
he managed an awkward smile. 

“Okay Miss Preston…
Ms. Mal…”

“Grace
,” I interrupted him.

“Grace…okay Grace,
” he looked directly at Michelle, “Michelle,” he said without hesitation, “walk me through what happened tonight.”

He sat across from us giving us his undivided attention.  Michelle and Detective Verdi listened as I explained the events of the evening.  Cole interjected the portions of the story I wasn’t present for.
Then Michelle chimed in with her input.

“So,” Dean said looking at all three of us, “
I’m guessing you have no idea who did this or why.” 

We all
shook our heads in answer.

“I’m not the detective here, but I’d have to say that was a fucking threat, no?”
Michelle glared at the detectives. “Just saying.”

“I’m sure it’s some crazed
fan who knows the whole Golden Hair Murderer story and is trying to get his name in the papers.” I said. “Right?” I was desperately hoping the detectives would agree with me.

“I would suggest you look into any copy cat threats or correspondence you received after Kaplan
’s arrest.” Cole demanded.

I shook violently and Michelle blanched at Cole’s words.

Detective Johansen nodded in agreement.

“Well, I for one want some answers. I’m not about to...”

The doorbell rang, luckily for Detective Johansen, as Michelle was most definitely getting ready to dig her heels in.

Detective Verdi walked over
opening the door admitting two CSI and one uniformed officer. She spoke to the two CSI’s as she walked them over to where both boxes stood. She then turned to the uniformed officer who stood gawking at us all, and directed him to stand outside the door.

“Secure the area.” She
looked at Dean questioningly and he nodded his head. “No one steps off that elevator unless they’re NYPD. Got it?”

The officer nodded and walked out closing the door behind him.

The two CSI pulled on their gloves and opened a large black suitcase, taking out several evidence bags and placing them on the counter.  The blonde man began snapping pictures of the door, the hallway, the foyer and the kitchen. Afterwards, he began writing notes in his pad.  The tall dark haired man removed the severed finger with long metal tweezers, placing it in the smaller evidence bag.  He held the bag to the light, eliciting a gasp from me.

He looked at me and
mumbled an apology, then turned his back essentially hiding the severed digit. He removed a sharpie from his chest pocket and wrote on the outside of the bag, then repeated the same actions with the other box. He placed each box inside it’s own bag, also writing on the outside of those bags.

“Detectives
,” the blonde man said, looking for direction.

“That’s all we got for you tonight guys. 
Make sure you pull any and all prints off the elevator and stairwell doors.” They both nodded.

“
We’ll need a report on what you find ASAP,” Detective Verdi said as she walked them to the door closing it after they left.

“Okay then.”  Dean said as he looked at Carrie.  “Le
t’s go and have a chat with
Joe
?”

He looked at Cole and
me, a questioning expression on his face.

Cole nodded.

“Joe.  Let’s go have a chat with Joe.”  He stood and turned to me.  “Miss Prest…Grace, Mr. Grayson we’ll be in touch.” Without waiting for a response, he turned his head, “Michelle, I assume your contact information hasn’t changed.”

“It’s the same.”  Cole extended his hand
interrupting him.  “You will be looking into the possibility of Kaplan’s involvement?”

At the sound of Jonathan’s name
, I shook involuntarily and Michelle squeezed my hand tighter.

Dean looked at Michelle
, his gaze lingering a tad longer than normal, a slow smile spread on his face.

“Thank you Detective
,” Michelle answered, her tone somewhat apologetic. She lowered her lashes and smiled in return.

Did I just
catch Michelle blushing?

“So you are aware, we will be pulling all the
footage from the security cameras and I’ll be letting the security desk know they are to contact me directly should you receive any other…
packages
.”

“You don’t think…”
I had no clue where I was going with this. “You don’t think there will be more…do you?”

“Let’s hope not.”
His tone flippant. Then he turned to walk towards the door.  Holding it open he turned back towards us. “You will let us know if anyone tries to contact you… any of you.” He glanced again at Michelle. “Here’s my card. It has my cell number.” He held it up in the air briefly before placing it on the foyer table.

“Yes of course.”  Cole answered.  Michelle and I just nodded.

“Well, good night then. An officer will be posted outside your doors for the remainder of the evening.” Dean turned and followed Carrie out the door.

“Goodnight
,” Detective Verdi called out over her shoulder.

We all stood staring in the direction of the closed door.  Cole was the first to break the silence.

“Michelle, I’d feel better if you stayed here tonight.  You can sleep in the bedroom with Grace, I’ll take the sofa,” Cole said.

“Thanks, I
really appreciate it but I’d really rather sleep in my own bed.”  She looked at me, seeing the displeased look on my face. “I’m right across the hall Grace, and believe me, you’ll know if someone uninvited shows up,” she laughed, her voice still raspy since her injury.

“I
t’s your call Michelle. Either way, I’m going to search your apartment before I let you go in there,” Cole commanded.

“Fine. Be my guest.
Just don’t mind my mess.  It’s the cleaning lady’s day off,” she laughed.  “I’ll turn on the alarm when you’re done searching if it’ll make you feel better.”

“It makes
me
feel better—so do it,” I said stifling a yawn.

“Yeah, me too.”  Michelle stood up
, my yawn contagious.  “I’m beat guys, I’m going back to sleep. Night, Grace.”  She extended her arms and I stood up and hugged her.  “Love you.”

“Me too
, Shelle.”  I never meant anything more. She walked over to where Cole stood.

If Jonathan had his way, Michelle wouldn’t be here today and
I truly wouldn’t know what I would do without her.

Cole walked her to her apartment and knowing Cole
, he wouldn’t leave until he searched every nook and cranny, opened every closet door, and looked under each bed.  Several minutes later I heard him in the hall talking to Michelle. Then I heard her door close.  He stood outside waiting until she assured him the alarm had been set.  I walked over to the door and held it open as he walked back in.  He turned and slid the chain into place, locked the dead bolt and followed me to the bedroom. 

After washing my face, I undressed and slipped
a clean nightshirt over my head and climbed into the bed next to Cole.  He threw his arm around me pulling me up against his warm body and we both lay still for several minutes, neither of us speaking. He leaned in and I felt the warmth of his lips as he kissed my forehead.  I was so wiped out I started to fall asleep in his arms.

“Mind if I get some work done
, I can’t sleep?”  He asked.  “I can go into the office if it’ll keep you up.”

“No, I’m so tired nothing will keep me up.”  I kissed him and threw my leg over his. “Stay here…please
,” I whispered imploringly, wondering myself how I would be able to fall asleep after tonight, even feeling as tired as I was.

He
sat up and opened his laptop, leaning back against the plush headboard. I raised my eyes up to him and saw the glow of the screen illuminating his perfect features and watched as a worried frown settled on his face.  I rolled over, my back flush against his body and closed my eyes. 

I dreamt of the night
he
almost killed us.  I saw the evil look in his ice blue eyes.  Michelle floated towards me with her arms outstretched, her throat slit open, blood spraying everywhere.  I turned my head and watched Cole wrestle with Jonathan in slow motion, a knife in his hand… Jonathan’s fingers were wrapped around the handle of a straight razor. 

Deep gashes
opened, pulsing blood sprayed out painting my body. I turned and saw my reflection in the wide windows; trails left by my tears weaved down my face through the coating of blood. Cole was cut in several places, the knife protruding from Jonathan’s chest. I tried to scream, but no sound would come. I raised my hand to my neck…my throat had been cut too.