Princess, Without Cover (12 page)

“It’s not silly.”  The detective leaned toward her.  “It’s not silly at all.  It’s very possible that he will follow you everywhere you go until he takes care of whatever it is that he is supposed to do.  Is he supposed to scare you?  Hurt you?  Take you? Kill you?  We need to figure this out.”

She took a deep breath and swallowed hard.  “I don’t know how to help you.  I really, really don’t.” She focused on his black leather loafers rather than his face. 

“Let’s start by you trying to remember
anything
out of the ordinary that has been going on.  Anything- even if you don’t think it is related.”  He waited, his penetrating eyes not leaving her face for a moment.  His manicured fingers tapped the dirty table as he waited. 

Stephen stared at her for a second before he spoke.  “Well, there are a couple of things.  I don’t know if they are related…”

“It doesn’t matter. Tell me and let me decide.” The detective shifted his gaze to Stephen.

“Sydney just found out that her father is gay.  That he has been gay all of these years and has hidden it from everyone.  Except his wife.  Sydney’s mother has known all along.”

Detective Daniels’ stared flatly at Sydney, studying her. 

“How did you just now figure that out?  I thought you weren’t speaking?”

“We’re not.  I figured it out the other night.  It dawned on me when I was thinking about something else. What?  Aren’t you going to die of shock now?”  She smiled a humorless smile.  “Family Values First and all that?”

“No.  Nothing in that screwed up world surprises me anymore.”

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and drew one out, lighting it and then inhaling slowly, staring off into the distance.

“You know those things will kill you, right?” Sydney smiled a tiny smile.

“I think you’re in more danger at the moment than I am. Let’s focus on you, shall we?”

He actually smiled back at her, something she hadn’t yet seen.  He had a nice smile and she found herself wondering why he didn’t use it more. 

He turned to Stephen.  “What was the other thing?  You said there were a couple.”

Stephen looked hesitantly at Sydney.  Her brow wrinkled as she stared back in confusion. 

“What other thing is there?” she asked.

“Another waitress at the Sunshine told me today that someone keeps calling and asking for Sydney, but always hangs up before they have a chance to bring Sydney to the phone.  He doesn’t want to talk to her- he just wants to find out if she is there.  Marge told me that he sounds middle-aged or so.”

Shock was evident on Sydney’s face, but she didn’t react. She simply sat still, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her knuckles white again.  Stephen glanced worriedly at her, before addressing the detective again.

“Sydney is telling you the truth.  She doesn’t know anything.  What do you think is going on?”

“What I think is going on… is that Sydney
does
know something.  Something career ending.”  The breath froze in Sydney’s throat as she stared at the detective in shock.

“You think my father has something to do with this?  But I’m not going to tell anyone what I know.  I wouldn’t do that.  Do you really think that he is trying to hurt me?”

“It’s the best I’ve got right now.  I think it’s a pretty clear motive, don’t you?” He stared back at her, almost kindly.  “Sydney, when people get to the level that your father is, their priorities tend to change. They don’t behave like the rest of us… life gets skewed for them.”

His tone held notes of sentiment and regret in it and Sydney watched him curiously.

“You sound like you know from experience.”

“Unfortunately, I do.  My step-dad is a senator.  Paul Hayes from Ohio.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Sydney and Stephen both stared at him incredulously, each silently trying to figure out what to say.  Sydney felt the headache that had been building in the base of her neck turn into a pulsing throb behind her left ear. 

Finally, she cleared her throat, glanced at Stephen and then looked back at the Detective.  At the very least, this made sense.  His taste was much too expensive for a detective. He came from money.

“Um.  Detective, I’m not absolutely positive, but I think… I mean, what I’m trying to say is that… I think your step-dad is the person that my dad is having an affair with.” 

He stared at her blankly, not reacting.

“What makes you say that?” 

His sharp eyes were trained unflinchingly on her, waiting for an explanation.  She restlessly fidgeted with her fingers while she replied. 

“Months ago, I saw your dad and mine walking together upstairs during one of my dad’s parties.  They were alone and I can’t explain it, but they seemed much too familiar. The look on your dad’s face was so... intimate.  And then, I got a text from my dad the other night. It was meant for someone else, asking to see them because my mom was gone.  He stores my name right next to your dad’s in his phone- under Princess.  Like I said, I can’t explain it, but it is a very strong feeling that I have.”

The detective took another long pull on his cigarette, exhaling the smoke slowly.  As it drifted upward in a gray cloud, he steadily stared at Sydney through it.

“You don’t have to explain.  Trust me, I know hunches.  And this actually makes sense. There have been things over the years that have made me question…” he trailed off as he stared pensively into the distance.  “But this changes everything, you know.”

“How so?” She felt flustered; still confused and a little dazed from being chased by the Trans Am. Because her thoughts were muddled, she couldn’t fathom why this knowledge would change anything.

He stared at her again, his blue eyes piercing hers. 

“Sydney, I’m even more convinced that this is a clear motive.”

She inhaled sharply, shaking her head slowly from side to side.  He couldn’t be right.  Her father might not love her the way she wanted him to, the way a normal father would, but surely he wouldn’t want to hurt her.  Yet, even as she thought it, the doubts were already setting in.

The most important thing to her father was- and always had been- his career.  He had watched a hundred different political careers destroyed by scandal and in her heart, she knew that he would go to great lengths to keep this particular scandal from ever seeing the light of day.  Her heart turned into a lump of ice buried within her chest.  It was a possibility.  A real possibility that her dad was behind this.  She felt numb as she limply turned to look at Stephen.

The look on his face was one of disbelief and she could tell that he was mulling over the exact same thing. He reached over and grasped her hand. 

“Sydney… surely not.  He wouldn’t…” But his voice trailed off uncertainly.  He didn’t even know her father and he was well aware of that fact.  He had no way of knowing what Randall Ross was and wasn’t capable of.   He straightened his shoulders and turned to the detective.

“So what now?” 

“Now, I do some more investigating.  You know, my job.”

The detective’s voice was sarcastic, but not in an unfriendly way.  It felt more like the joking between friends.  This new revelation seemed to have plunged through the ice that had been between them from the beginning.        

“But what should Sydney do?”  Stephen was persistent.  The incident today only escalated his concern about Sydney’s safety.  Particularly if her father did turn out to be behind it… it meant that deep pockets were funding the whole thing. And deep pockets could accomplish a lot. A whole lot more than he could. 

“You need to maintain a low profile.  I’ll have a patrol going past your house regularly and if you see anything- and I mean
anything
- out of the ordinary, call me right away.  Sydney,  if I were you, I wouldn’t go anywhere alone.  Stay with someone at all times, you’ll be safer that way.” 

He stared at her seriously as he spoke, making sure that she listened.  He reached over and grasped her wrist lightly. 

“Sydney, don’t underestimate this.  Your life could very well depend on your caution.”

She felt numb as she stared back at him first uncertainly and then with resignation.  She knew he was right.  Her life was in danger- that much was apparent.  Until she knew for sure who was behind it, she had to treat it as though it could be anyone.  And honestly, it could be. 

She fervently wished that instead of all those piano and tennis lessons she had taken throughout her life, that she had taken some self-defense classes instead.  What was she supposed to do with a tennis racquet now, hit an assailant with it? 

Detective Daniels stood and stretched, then turned to them again. 

“You know… here’s something to think about.  He’s probably trying to keep you quiet.  If you are pro-active and release this information to the press… then it is possible that you will take yourself out of danger.”

Sydney stared at him apprehensively.  “I don’t think I can do that.  Not without knowing for sure that my father is behind it.  That would be… a really vicious thing to do.”

Something that her mother would be capable of, but not Sydney. 

The detective nodded thoughtfully.  “I understand.  It was just a thought.  I’m going to go back to the station for awhile.  You have my cell number.  If you need me, call.  In the meantime, until you hear from me, lay pretty low.  Sydney, don’t do anything in a scheduled pattern.  If you normally go somewhere, don’t.  Do it at a different time.  Shake up your routine.  Make it difficult for someone to follow you.” 

She nodded and he turned on his heel, taking two steps before he turned back.

“Sydney?  We didn’t get off on the right foot and I know that is my fault.  I apologize.  I’m so used to people from your circles being insincere and entitled. And you are not. I never should have assumed otherwise.” His voice was quiet but firm. 

Sydney was astounded, but before she could even respond, he had spun back around and continued walking to his car with long, graceful strides.  She could see his gaze spanning the horizon, looking for anything out of place with his trained detective’s eye.  She supposed that she should start doing that as well, always being on alert. The thought was depressing.

Stephen stood and offered his hand to her, which she gladly took.  He pulled her to her feet and then to his chest.

“It’s going to be okay, Syd.  I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

She knew that he meant it and that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her if he could at all help it. But what worried her was that Stephen was a kind-hearted person.  She was pretty sure that in order to anticipate the actions of a psycho, you would need to understand them.  There was no way that Stephen could think like that.  Of that she was certain.

“Thank you.” 

She didn’t voice her concern, only brushed a kiss across his soft lips and then quickly walked through the shadowy darkness to the car.  She was done with this day—it had almost done her in.  Literally.

*  *  *

She still dreamed that she was a mother.  For the first several weeks after losing the baby, she had dreamed that she was rocking her daughter in a snowy white rocking chair. 

The dreams would change and sometimes she dreamed that she was cradling an infant swathed in pink clothing in her arms.  The baby’s tiny hands rested against her chest and she could practically smell the powdery, heavenly baby scent. 

Other times, she was rocking a beautiful little girl with caramel colored hair, just like her own.  She was reading to her, relishing every minute of the quality time with her daughter.  And then she would wake up.  Every time.  And every time, she felt the horrible, devastating emptiness of her loss rushing back to her. 

As bad as those dreams were to wake up from, at least they were pleasant while they lasted.  She had a taste, however brief, of what it was like to hold her daughter.  Her new dreams were different.  She dreamed that a baby was crying somewhere and she couldn’t find it.  She inherently knew that it was hers, but she couldn’t find it no matter how fast she ran or how hard she looked.

Tonight, she had woken up with a start, her body sticky with sweat—both as a result of the heat and of the panic that she felt while she was dreaming.  The dream was so real that she could still taste the fear in her mouth when she woke up.  The fear that she wouldn’t find her baby. 

As she lay still so she wouldn’t wake Stephen, she stared at the crackled popcorn ceiling, faced with the reality that her baby was lost to her.  It wasn’t a fear, it wasn’t a dream… it was her truth. 

She would never hold her daughter, never find her daughter because her parents had thrown her out like medical waste. Sydney didn’t even have a grave to visit her at.  Resentment formed in her mouth and she swallowed hard to get rid of it.  Dwelling on it wasn’t going to make it any better. 

She swung her feet over the side of the bed and sat for a moment to collect herself.  She was never going back to sleep right now.  Her mind was too restless, too disturbed from all of the events that had been jammed into her life lately. 

For the last week, she had been on virtual lock-down.  Stephen hadn’t let her leave the house since the mystery assailant had tried to run them down.   She had fallen asleep tonight while trying to put a face to the unknown attacker which is probably what had triggered her nightmares.  She needed to clear her mind.

She walked as quietly as she could over the creaking boards of the aging house to the kitchen to grab a glass of ice water.  As she stood at the sink, she stared out the window for a moment. 

The light in her neighbors’ house was on and she could clearly see into their home.  The little blonde boy ran quickly through her field of vision before disappearing through a doorway that was out of her line of sight.  Interesting.  It was 2:00am.  What kind of parents allowed their ten-year old to stay up until 2:00am?  The boy had still been fully dressed.  Apparently, he wasn’t even thinking about going to bed yet.  

She briefly wondered if his parents were even home before she shook her head and turned to walk into the living room, but she quickly turned back.  She had caught something out of the corner of her eye… something not right.  She scanned the side yard of their little house.  It was empty, just as it should be.  But the hair on her arms was standing up and she felt a strange sense of unease.  Something was wrong.