Chapter Sixteen
Caitlin was preparing an egg dish in the kitchen when Vince walked in. Although pinched and pale, her face wore a determined look. She glanced up toward him. “Disaster unleashes my domestic side.”
“From the way you’re beating those eggs, it looks less domestic and more destroy and conquer.”
At the far end of the kitchen counter, Rachel was chopping red and orange bell peppers for a salad. “Glad you got here, Vince.”
Caitlin quit beating the eggs and added herbs, cheese, chopped mushrooms, and onions to the mixture. Both women wore sweats, hers a deep purple and Rachel’s a vivid orange. “He found my home, Vince. How the hell did he manage that?”
“Don’t know, Cait. Where’s Mike?”
“Checking the window locks and replacing the low wattage bulbs in the outside lamps. Whoever gets near the condo now will be blinded.”
****
“Smart move. Looks like day out there.” Mike overheard Vince’s conversation with the women as he walked in from the garage. Vince shucked his coat and hung it in the entrance closet before turning toward him.
“I did an outside security check after we got home and opened the package. Just finished the lights.”
Caitlin yelled from the kitchen. “Mike, show Vince the package, okay?”
He led Vince past the kitchen down the stairs to the lower level.
“I put the thing down here, out of Caitlin’s sight. It scared her into cooking.” He pointed to the box; its contents and wrappings secured in a clear plastic trash bag.
“Psychological reaction. As domestic goddess, she thinks she wouldn’t encounter such shit.”
“It’s sick. This guy’s a real nut case.”
“Could be.” Vince peered into the bag at its contents. “Or could be we’re dealing with two agendas, Mike.” He gloved up and shook his head as he inspected the dismembered doll. “Question is if this guy is a nut case, how’d he get this address? And how’d he get the phone number? Caitlin’s number is unlisted. Right?”
“Right, which means he’s got connections.” Mike rubbed his chin, getting more agitated at that thought.
“Maybe. But it indicates clear-headed thinking, not just a nut case.”
“Leave it to Caitlin to hit the jackpot,” Mike muttered.
Vince grabbed the bag from the table. “I attended a training session at Quantico about a year ago. I remember the profiler talking about certain kinds of killers who dismembered dolls as warnings to victims. At the time, I never thought I might have a situation like that here.”
“You think that’s what’s going on? But why?”
“Don’t know the answer to those questions yet. I am going to contact the agent who taught the course.”
Mike followed him from the room as Vince headed toward the stairs. “What should we do?”
“In part, that’s up to Caitlin.”
“What’s up to me?” She stood at the top of the stairs. “Dinner’s ready, such as it is.” Her words rushed together as if each breath was a struggle. Her hand fluttered at the neck of her sweatshirt.
“You all right?” Mike asked. “Well, that was a stupid question.”
“Not so stupid. Sometimes I have a bit of trouble catching my breath.” Her gaze shifted to Vince. “There’s enough for you to stay and eat with us. In fact, I wish you would. Then you could tell me what you two were talking about.” Filled with troubling nuances, her gray-green eyes met Vince’s dark ones.
Mike hated seeing her so upset, especially since he couldn’t make the problem disappear. “Yeah, stay, Vince, so I won’t be outnumbered.” He saw Rachel’s nod to reinforce Caitlin’s invitation. From the smile Vince shot her, he spotted it too.
“I appreciate that invite. I haven’t eaten much all day.”
“Well, we have plenty. Caitlin got carried away with breaking and beating the eggs,” Rachel added as Vince walked through the kitchen and set the trash bag near the front door. When he returned, he seated her at the glass-topped dining table and sat next to her.
Mike held a chair for Caitlin and touched her shoulder briefly as his hand left the back of the chair after guiding it into place. Then he sat.
“I vented my anger and frustration out on those eggs. Let’s hope dinner hasn’t picked up any negative flavors because of that.” Caitlin stared at the egg dish set on a trivet at the center of the table.
“Probably good therapy, Cait. Now, about this situation.” Vince picked up his fork.
“I haven’t gotten any more phone calls since the two which came close together about six, when we first got here.” While she spoke, Caitlin forked her salad, pushing a grape tomato around bits of lettuce and feta cheese.
“I’ve put a trap and trace on this phone now.” Vince stared at Caitlin. “I don’t expect any objections on this.”
Mike and Rachel ate silently. Both knew better than to interrupt.
“No objections. Once my home was invaded…” Caitlin took a small bite of egg and choked. Mike reached over to slap her on her back. Rachel offered water, and after coughing to clear her throat, she continued, “I’ve wracked my brain trying to figure how this creep got my number. I figure he could have followed me home at some point without my realizing it, but my number’s unlisted and unpublished.”
“Have you always had an unlisted number?”
“No, only since Buddy Stein attacked me in the office.”
“Just who from work has the number?” Vince slipped the question in between bites.
Her eyes widened in alarm at his question. “Keith. Rachel. Most recently…Mike.”
“Could other people find the number written down somewhere? Let’s say, in Rachel’s files?”
“Absolutely not, Vince,” Rachel interrupted heatedly. “The number’s in my head, not written down—just as Caitlin asked me to do.”
“That’s right, Vince. When Caitlin gave me the number, she told me not to write it down. I memorized it immediately.” Mike looked at Caitlin still toying with her food.
“What about Keith Jantzen?”
“I asked him to do the same thing. I assume he did. He has a phenomenal memory so he’d have no reason to write the number down.” A frown crossed Vince’s face at Caitlin’s answer.
“Back to square one, Vince?” Mike injected as he rose to get coffee.
“No one else at work knows your number, Caitlin?” A negative toss of her head answered Vince’s question. Instead of food, she chewed the inside of her lip.
“No one called the phone company for your number in the last twenty-four hours. I checked on that before I came here. There’ve been no inquiries at all. That means someone has the number. But who and how?”
Mike poured coffee as Rachel began clearing the table. He helped her once he finished with the coffee. Caitlin stayed oblivious. Her cold, congealed food sat untouched on her plate.
“I can’t stand sitting at this table. It’s uncomfortable,” Caitlin grumbled loudly as Mike took her plate. Once he moved away, she shot up, spilling her coffee onto the table and overturning her chair behind her.
“Damn it!” A tremor gripped her, its shaking visible to Vince and Mike. He grabbed her shoulders to calm her, and then pulled her against his side. Vince stared glumly, first at the table, then at the wall, and finally them.
“Is it the chair or the conversation that’s uncomfortable, Caitlin?” Vince rubbed his chin. She glared at him. “Being angry with me won’t help, you know. I’m doing the best I can.”
“Not fast enough, dammit! Don’t you realize this thing…this creep has upset my life, taken away my control over everything? For God’s sake, I’m afraid to pick up my phone any more. That means he’s winning even though I’m not hurt or worse. I hate that feeling! I want this, whatever this is, over with so I can get on with my life. I can’t do anything without wondering…” She trembled and kicked her foot into the upholstered back of her chair, forcefully shoving it away from her.
Tears sprung to Caitlin’s eyes. When Mike tried comforting her, she pulled away and ran to the powder room.
At the noise, Rachel came running from the kitchen. “What happened?”
“A minor meltdown. She needed to do that,” Vince commented tersely as he rose to clear his dishes from the table.
“I’ve never seen her like that. Is she losing it?” Rachel asked as she pulled the placemats from the table.
“I don’t think so, Rachel. Vince’s probably right. Cait needed to get all the anger out. It’s better to do that here with us. Maybe she’ll cope in a more realistic way after this.” Mike sponged up the spilled coffee as he spoke, using the damp towel he’d slung over his shoulder in case he dribbled coffee as he poured. Anne had always accused him of doing that so he was well-trained.
“Caitlin’s been wound tighter than a spring for several weeks now. This whole mess just intensifies the problem. Vince, are you anywhere close to getting some serious leads?”
“Not yet, Rach, but I’m working on some. Can you think of anyone who might have Caitlin’s number or gotten it from work somehow?”
“Absolutely not. What she told you is the truth. We even had this system that if the plant needed her, they called me first and I contacted Caitlin. That was Keith’s idea after Buddy Stein attacked her and continued his threats.”
“No way Kirby Metz could have gotten hold of the number?”
At Vince’s question, a memory of Kirby’s anger earlier that afternoon flickered in Mike’s mind.
“No way, Vince. Least of all Kirby. That’s one of his gripes about Caitlin. She won’t trust him with her home number.” Rachel lowered her voice with Caitlin’s approaching footsteps.
“What about Kirby and home?” Caitlin rejoined them, her eyes red from her tears. “Please, forgive me everybody—for losing control like that. I don’t know what set me off. But I’ll promise you this, it won’t happen again.”
Mike looked carefully at Caitlin as she spoke those last words. Renewed determination fired her eyes, stiffened her spine, and braced her neck. Her cry had worked. The feisty old Caitlin had reappeared. “Even paragons have weak moments, Cait.”
Rachel hugged Caitlin and Vince patted her shoulder while grumbling about being human.
“At least you didn’t say female.” Caitlin attempted some humor. “I have to sit down. Come on and sit with me.” Caitlin folded her feet beneath her as she settled onto the couch.
“I asked Rachel if Kirby could have gotten your home phone number in some way. Some way you might be overlooking.”
Caitlin shook her head. “Kirby’s too spineless to do anything like this, Vince, but have you located Buddy Stein yet?”
“We have an APB out for him. Let’s get back to Kirby for just a minute. What made him so angry this afternoon? About four thirty or so?”
“Hah, can you believe this? He wanted tomorrow afternoon off to go to the doctor. I told him he’d have to take a vacation day, which makes it impossible because he has none left. I told him if he left I’d write him up and dock his pay.”
“Do you usually do that for doctor appointments?”
“No, but Kirby’s abused privileges so much that I’m making life difficult for him. He has an overdue affirmative action report which must get into the federal government. Nothing is going to keep him from getting that finished. Tomorrow. If he doesn’t, he won’t have a job.”
“You’ll probably have to redo it anyway, Caitlin. You always do.” Rachel had settled next to Vince on the loveseat. Mike noticed their seating. So did Caitlin.
“Right, which also irritates Kirby and he’s using that as another reason to justify why he should be off. I won’t approve it because I know he’d just hit the dog track or the horse track anyway. One or the other’s opening tomorrow.”
“Then you don’t think Kirby has a doctor’s appointment?” Mike asked.
“No way. I’ve known about Kirby’s gambling for a while. That’s how he supports the fancy car, clothes and jewelry. Trips to Atlantic City and Vegas are his vacation days, but I have a hunch his luck’s deteriorated lately. He seems more distracted. Something’s bothering him and it’s not work.”
“Plus, he hasn’t bought anything new lately,” Rachel injected.
“Which makes me think he’s on a losing streak, especially after the credit union manager came to me last week to discuss a loan Kirby applied for.”
“Why would the manager do that?” Vince asked.
“It’s odd, but I oversee the credit union and the loan was substantial.”
“Interesting.” During the conversation, Vince had jotted down comments in his notebook. “None of these situations justifies the attacks on Caitlin, but they could be related somehow.” He pocketed his notebook. “That report may not get written tomorrow after all, Caitlin. I may bring him in for further questioning.”
He glanced at his watch. “I better leave now and get that stuff to the evidence lab. I’ll have a squad come by every hour tonight. I know this advice sounds ridiculous, but you should try to get some sleep. Things’ll look better if you’re rested and you not sleeping won’t help me solve this any sooner.”
“True, but maybe I’ll be able to think of some connections.” Caitlin began to rise to see Vince to the door.
Rachel moved faster. “I’ll see him out, Caitlin, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” Caitlin watched Vince and Rachel head for the foyer and turned to Mike. “Now that’s interesting. Perhaps something good will emerge from this.”
“Do you think something’s budding between them?” He looked at Caitlin, a wistful smile lingering about her mouth.
“Regrowing is more like it. Those two have a long history.” Once the words slipped from her tongue, she realized their import.
“Just like us.” He gazed into her eyes, refusing her a chance to look away or backtrack on her words.
“More serious—for them.”
“By whose standards?” He reached for Caitlin’s cold hands, enfolded them in his, and brought her fingertips to his lips.
“Mine.”
He kissed each finger tip, warming each one with short kisses. His eyes never left her face, enjoying her blush. “I’m serious about this. I think you are, too,” he whispered as he moved to another finger.
“I know.” Caitlin looked him fully in the eyes. “Maybe when all this gets settled…”
“Maybe even sooner.” He left her hand and found her mouth.
****
From the kitchen, sounds of water running and dishes clinking pulled her away from Mike’s lips. Rescued her from making a mistake. Timing wasn’t good for them now. “We should help Rachel and then get some work done.” She removed her hands from Mike’s. Looking sadder than a Basset Hound, he followed her into the kitchen.
Working together in the kitchen, Caitlin answered Mike’s questions about the shipping department, especially about the staff. She knew of various changes and she thought Kirby had overseen the hiring of several new people. The changes had occurred about the time of the Buddy Stein incident. Stein had worked in that department for years.
“I brought home those records today, Mike. I intend to go through them tonight. Maybe some answers will grab us.” They finished with the kitchen and started the dishwasher.
“I’ll help you, Cait. That is, if you want help.”
“Thanks, Rach, I was counting on your help, but this is your off time.”
“Off time? Me?” Rachel quipped as she efficiently rinsed the dishcloth and draped it over the sink divider. “Mike, are you playing detective, too?”
“Actually, I brought some other records home because I want to go through them. Something about the shipping department bothers me. I went in there today and Pete Maze was downright hostile and not clear on some details I asked. So I brought some old files to go over. Maybe we can come up with some connections. Almost like playing a game, isn’t it?”
“Sounds like lots of paperwork will be spread out. Let’s work in the family room. I’ll build a fire to make the task seem cozier.”
“I’ll be the fire builder, Cait. Looks like a long and boring night so we might as well hit it.”