In the Dead of Winter (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 5) Page 20

Emma poured out two cups of coffee and added cream before she answered. “You mean, did I tell the police? Yes, twice. I told the Greenville Police Department, and I told my boyfriend.”

  Rowena blinked. “You mean that hunk on your nightstand? Your boyfriend’s a cop?”

  “That’s right. He’s with the sheriff’s department.”

  With a heavy sigh, Rowena sat down with her sandwich. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to help yourself. That’s why I left.”

  “Here’s your coffee.” Emma pushed one of the mugs toward the other woman. “You look like you need it.”

  With a muttered thank you, Rowena grabbed the coffee and downed several slurps before starting on her sandwich. Emma stretched out her legs. The painkillers were starting to kick in, thank heavens. Given the circumstances, she wasn’t exactly mellow, but her initial irritation at finding Rowena in her house was fading.

  “How did you get here, by the way?” she asked, noticing that Rowena’s overstuffed duffel bag was sitting at the foot of the stairs.

  “I borrowed a bicycle from the garage.”

  “I’ll have to return it,” Emma said, wondering what else Rowena had ‘borrowed’ and what state she’d left the garage in.

  “Sure. It’s out the back, next to the woodpile.” Rowena chewed on the last of her sandwich, her hand wrapped around her coffee mug.

  “Why did you come back here anyway if you knew I was going to tell the police about you?”

  “It was getting too uncomfortable in that garage. I had to use the bushes outside when I needed the bathroom.” Rowena shuddered, and so did Emma as she envisaged the surprise that lay in store for this unsuspecting homeowner in the bushes. “Plus, I didn’t feel safe anymore, so I figured I could spend a couple of nights here before I made my next move.”

  “Safe? You mean the homeowner spotted you?”

  “Oh, no. He didn’t have a clue I was there, poor guy. He’s rather cute, actually. If I wasn’t already in love with Lonnie, I might have been interested. No, he wasn’t the problem. It was the other feller, the one that was lurking around the house for the last couple of nights. I heard him last night ferreting about in the back yard. I got such a fright I could hardly breathe. I thought it’s only a matter of time before he decides to break into the garage, so I decided it was time to leave.” She drew up her shoulders, tense from the memory.

  “That’s hairy,” Emma said, frowning. “What was this prowler up to, do you think? Did he want to steal something?”

  “Well, he had the perfect opportunity on New Year’s Eve. The owner was gone all night, didn’t come home until morning, and the prowler came sniffing about after midnight, but he didn’t do anything. At least, nothing that I heard.” Rowena took a sip from her mug. “If you ask me, he’s some kind of pervert, like a Peeping Tom.”

  “Really? Don’t Peeping Toms usually spy on women?”

  “Takes all sorts these days. And like I said, the guy who owns the house is a cutie.”

  “Maybe the prowler is a woman, not a man.”

  Rowena’s mouth fell open. “A woman? Well, I suppose it’s possible, but it would have to be a fairly tall woman.”

  “Did you get a good look at this Peeping Tom?”

  “No. The garage only had this small side window, and I wasn’t exactly keen on drawing attention to myself, you know. But I did manage to have a peek at this snooper last night, and I’m pretty sure he’s male.”

  “What was he doing?”

  “Well, the cutie was at home. All the lights were on, and he doesn’t draw the curtains, so you could see right into the house. He was in the kitchen making dinner, and the other guy, the snooper, just stood there and looked at him for ages. He was only a few feet away from the garage, so I kept dead still. Every now and then I took a peek through the window, and he was still there, staring at Mr. Cutie. I started to freak out, thinking for sure he’d see or hear me, but then he finally left.” She shuddered fervidly. “I didn’t want another night like that, plus I was freezing my ass off, so I hopped on the bike and came here. You do understand, don’t you?”

  “Yes, of course,” Emma replied, her mind preoccupied with what she’d heard. She set aside her empty coffee mug and leaned toward Rowena. “You know, what you’ve told me sounds alarming. This prowler might be a danger to your Mr. Cutie. I think we should alert him or tell the police.”

  At that, Rowena pushed back from the table, her eyes widening. “Oh, I don’t think we need to do that. I’m sure this guy is harmless.”

  “Rowena, he doesn’t sound harmless to me.”

  The other woman waved a hand. “You’re over-reacting.”

  “Maybe, but better safe than sorry. Whose garage were you hiding in?”

  “I told you, I don’t know,” Rowena replied, looking a little annoyed.

  “Where in town, then? On the outskirts, or near the center?”

  “Um, on the outskirts, I guess.”

  Emma persisted. “What does the house look like?”

  Frowning, Rowena scratched her arm. “Single story, medium-sized, white—no, gray, I think.”

  That wasn’t much to go on. Not enough to go to the police with. Emma sighed. “Okay, what can you tell me about this Mr. Cutie? I’m guessing he’s not old?”

  “No, about mid-thirties, I’d say. Tallish, nice build, darkish hair. Single, or at least I never saw any sign of a woman or anyone else living with him.” She glanced up. “Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. He has three dogs. At first I was afraid they’d sniff me out, but he keeps them inside the house most of the time, because of the weather, I guess.”

  Emma sat forward. At last, a decent clue. “What kind of dogs?”

  Rowena wrinkled her nose. “You know I’m hopeless with dogs. Two of them had those long, floppy ears and curly hair, the third one was kind of moth-eaten.”

  Nick Stavros. The vet had moved to Greenville with two cocker spaniels and later adopted a third dog, and he fitted Rowena’s description. It had to be him.

  Her epiphany must have shown on her face because Rowena craned her neck forward. “You know who it is, don’t you?”

  “Yes, it’s the vet, I’m sure of it.”

  She was already on her feet, grabbing her bag, and searching for her cell phone. Perhaps, like Rowena had said, she was over-reacting. Perhaps she was jumping at shadows. Perhaps she had got this totally wrong.

  But what if she hadn’t?

  ***

  In the gathering gloom of a winter’s evening, the lights of an EMS vehicle flashed like blobs of amber. Emma’s throat closed up as she drew her car to a halt and threw on the brake. As well as the ambulance, a police cruiser was parked outside Nick Stavros’ house, plus a small gathering of concerned onlookers. Emma dashed up to them, breathless with fright.

  “What—is he—?” She couldn’t get the words out.

  An elderly man huddled in a parka turned to her and shook his head. “Don’t look too good.”

  No, it couldn’t be true. She stared at the house as icy horror slowly enveloped her. As soon as she’d realized that Rowena had been hiding in Nick Stavros’ garage, she had grabbed her cell phone to call him. But first she’d had to go through directory assistance, and when she got his number, he hadn’t answered, despite her calling several times. With rising anxiety, she’d decided to drive to his house. Just to check on him, she’d told herself. No doubt she’d find him right as rain…

  Now, as she gazed at the paramedics and the police inside his home, her fears rose, and a sob burst from her lips. The man in the parka patted her shoulder awkwardly.

  “He’s a healthy, young fella. You never know, he might pull through.”

  Emma lifted her head. “You mean—you mean he’s not dead?”

  “Well, he wasn’t when I pulled him out of the bathtub.”

  She wiped her eyes and realized that the man’s gray sweatpants were dark and soggy with water. “You—you saved him?”

  “We don’t know yet.” He pu
shed his hands deeper into his pockets. Around them, other neighbors were listening in. “I live next door.” He nodded at a bungalow a few yards away. “I was putting out the bins when I saw the lights in Nick’s place flicker. Then I heard his phone ringing. It went on and on, but he didn’t answer it. I’d heard him a few minutes ago, so I knew he was at home. The phone kept on ringing, and his dogs were barking their heads off. I’d never heard them so crazy before. I began to think something was wrong. So I went inside, and sure enough he was lying in the bath tub with a frigging radio in the water!” The neighbor shook his head, clearly distressed. “I ran out, made sure the power was off to be safe, then went back in and pulled him out. Then I called nine-one-one.”

  “Thank heavens you were outside,” Emma murmured.

  The man shrugged. “It was lucky his phone kept ringing, or I wouldn’t have noticed anything.”

  Those would have been the unanswered calls she had made, Emma thought. It seemed she’d played some small part in trying to save Nick’s life.

  A hush fell over the small gathering as the paramedics wheeled a gurney out of the house. Craning her neck, Emma caught a glimpse of Nick lying comatose, an oxygen mask strapped to his head. He was alive. Relief washed over her, leaving her limp. She watched in numb silence as the paramedics slid him into the back of the ambulance and minutes later took off.

  The neighbors began to disperse, the growing darkness and biting cold driving them back to their warm, safe houses. Emma walked up to Nick’s house where a police officer was closing the door. Much to her disappointment, it wasn’t Martinez, but a young officer she didn’t know. He had a callow look about him, and he eyed her cautiously as she approached him.

  “Hi, Officer. My name’s Emma Cassidy, and I’m a friend of Nick’s. I heard what happened. I was just coming to see him because I was worried about him. You see, I’d heard that a prowler had been hanging around his house for the past few nights, and I…well, I thought he should know.”

  The officer blinked vacantly at her. “No prowlers around here, ma’am. The guy got electrocuted in his bathtub.”

  “Yes, I know that, but were there any signs of a break-in?”

  “A break-in!” His voice squeaked. How old was he? He didn’t look a day over twenty-one. “Wh-what do you mean?”

  “Signs of a forced entry, like a smashed window or a jimmied lock.”

  “No, nothing like that.” But his Adam’s apple bobbed as if he wasn’t completely sure.

  “Mind if I take a look inside?” she asked, taking a step toward the front door.

  The officer stiffened. “You can’t do that!”

  “Why not? It’s not a crime scene.” An idea came to her. “And anyway, I’m a friend of Nick’s. I want to get some clothes for him. And what about his dogs? What’s happening with them?”

  Indecision wavered across the boy’s freckled face before he finally gave up and opened the door for her.

  She went inside. The house wasn’t large—a living room, dining room, kitchen, bathroom, and two bedrooms. Leaving the bathroom for last, she made a quick inspection of the other rooms. There were no signs of forced entry, but then Nick probably left his doors unlocked, as did most people in Greenville. The dogs were shut in the kitchen, and when she entered they greeted her timidly. Poor things. Clearly they were stressed by the whole situation. She tested the back door. Yup, it was unlocked, meaning the prowler would’ve had no problem getting in. She fed and watered the dogs, trying to calm them.

  Eventually she inspected the bathroom, her chest tightening as she surveyed the scene. The tiled floor and bathmat were soaking wet. The tub was drained. Someone had unplugged the radio and set it on the counter. Did the radio belong to Nick? Would it contain any fingerprints?

  She traipsed through the kitchen again and walked to the back of the house. At the rear was the double garage where Rowena had hidden for three nights. Between that and the house grew a clump of evergreen shrubs, a perfect hiding spot for anyone who wanted to do a bit of spying. Treading carefully, she examined the area and found a patch of flattened grass. This must be where the prowler had stood. She scanned about, looking for any clues that might point to his identity—cigarette butt, candy wrapper, bunch of keys—but found nothing.

  She returned to the front porch.

  “Where’s Martinez?” she asked the cop. “Isn’t he on duty today?” After all, she’d seen him just this morning.

  The cop shook his head. “He took the afternoon off. Said he had some personal business to do.”

  Her frustration and anxiety mounted. “I think you should be treating this incident as suspicious. It can’t be a coincidence that someone was lurking around the house and then Nick almost gets killed.”

  The young man pushed out his jaw, for the first time showing some belligerence. “We got no reports of a prowler around these parts. Anyways, I got this under control. We’re short-staffed today, and I can’t waste anymore time hanging around here. The guy dropped his radio in the tub. He should’ve bought a radio with a ground fault interrupter, and he should’ve checked the safety of his fuse box, but that’s no crime. Now, you better leave, ma’am.”

  She gave him a fierce glare. “I need to get those clothes,” she said frostily before marching back into the house.

  Mercifully, the cop left her alone. She hastily grabbed a couple of T-shirts, a sweater, and a pair of sweatpants, and swept them into a plastic bag. She marched out of the house, ignoring the cop, and got back into her car.

  Adrenaline and annoyance at the cop had kept her going, but now, as she tried to fit her key into the ignition, she realized her hands were shaking. Shutting her eyes, she forced herself to breathe in and out slowly. Gradually she felt a measure of equilibrium returning. She needed every bit of calm because there was still another task ahead for her. She had to drive to Becky’s and tell her what had happened to Nick.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Emma gazed at the closed and darkened diner in frustration, belatedly remembering that Becky shut it early on some days during the quieter months. She pulled away from the curb and drove toward Becky’s house. When she arrived at Cedar Avenue, she was greeted by a silent, unlit house. Where was Becky? Could she have already heard the news about Nick and raced off to the hospital? She pulled out her cell phone and jabbed the icon for Becky’s number. It rang and rang to no avail before switching to voicemail.

  Huffing, Emma was about to redial when a slight movement in Becky’s front yard caught her attention. She had parked on the opposite side of the road, while a large pickup truck outside Becky’s house partially obscured her view of the yard. She squinted through her window, wondering if she had imagined what she’d seen.

  But then it happened again. A quick flicker of movement, the laurel bushes quivering from more than just the wind. A dark figure emerged, hunched over, and crept toward the front door. Emma gasped. The person laid something by the door, then turned and began scurrying away from the house.

  Before she knew what she was doing, Emma flung herself out of the car and dashed across the street.

  “Hey, you! Stop!”

  For a second the individual paused and glanced at her, then scudded away, head bent beneath the hood of a black sweatshirt. All the anxiety of the past hour came to a fast boil inside Emma as she charged after the black silhouette. To her surprise, she caught up with her fleeing target, and, even more surprising, she launched herself at the figure, grabbing hold of the broad shoulders.

  “Argh!” the runner cried out, tumbling to the grassy verge outside Becky’s house.

  Pulses thumping, Emma scrambled to her feet. The hood of the sweatshirt had fallen back, revealing the runner’s face.

  Emma’s jaw dropped. “Hazel?!”

  Chest heaving, Hazel Destefano clambered to her feet and brushed the dirt from her black sweatshirt and matching black pants.

  Emma shook her head, still unsure she was seeing right. “Hazel, what on earth were you doing i
n Becky’s yard?”

  The secretary was beet red, her lips trembling, as she avoided Emma’s eyes. “Nothing. I d-didn’t do anything. I w-was just going for a walk. That’s all.”

  “It wasn’t nothing!” With nerves shredded and adrenaline pumping through her veins, Emma couldn’t stop herself from yelling. “I saw you! You were skulking around in the yard, and then you left something by the front door before running away!” An image of Nick unconscious and strapped to a gurney flitted through her mind. How had Rowena described the prowler? Tall, dressed in black, most likely a man. Well, Hazel was tall and wearing black, and she had once been a man.

  Emma spun on her heel and ran to Becky’s front door. Something lay on the welcome mat. She peered at it cautiously, wondering if this was a booby trap. The object was wrapped in thin silver foil. A faint, pleasant scent wafted up.

  Flowers? Lifting the corner of the foil, she found a bunch of orange, pink, and yellow poppies, tied together with a white ribbon.

  “It’s just a small gift! A—a little token of—of friendship!” Hazel stood behind her, her face red and sweaty as she stammered out the words. “Just—just a few flowers I had in the garden. L-like I said, nothing, really.”

  Too stunned to speak, Emma just gazed at her. Moments later, a car pulled into the driveway, its lights flooding them.

  “Oh!” Hazel turned and dashed across the yard, plunging through a hedge that marked the property line before disappearing into the night.

  “Emma?”

  Still dazed, Emma turned to see Becky hurrying toward her from the car.

  “What’s going on?” Becky exclaimed. “And who was that?” She jerked her head in the direction that Hazel had vanished.

  Instead of answering, Emma asked, “Where have you been?”

  “I dropped off the day’s takings at the overnight deposit box.”

  “I called you.”

  “I’m sorry, I left my phone in the car and must’ve missed your call.” Becky stepped closer, her brow wrinkling. “You’re scaring me. What’s happened?”

  Emma took a deep breath. She needed to get all these thoughts flying around her head under control.