L.A.P.D. Special Investigations Series, Boxed Set: The Deceived, The Taken & The Silent (41 page)

“You’re not like other grown-ups,” Cody said, sounding very grown-up himself.

She gazed at him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “You’re nice.”

“Well, I think you’re pretty nice, too. And so are the Appletons, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, but they’re not like you. They don’t care about me.”

Oh, my. She pulled him into a hug. “Of course they do, sweetie. You wouldn’t be there if they didn’t care.”

He didn’t answer, so she added, “You know what, I think they’re going to have dinner ready any time now, so we should probably head home.”

“Are you going to come back?”

She heard doubt in his voice. She couldn’t blame him. He’d been abandoned by his own parents, who’d never come forward, despite the rampant media coverage when he’d first been found. The authorities had no lead on any other relatives and though he’d been interviewed many times, Cody couldn’t remember any either. But she saw a sparkle of hope in his eyes when he looked at her and there was no way she’d do anything to take it away. “Of course I’m going to come back. You’re my best buddy.” She ruffled his hair.

He gave a tiny smile, eyes cast down.

After she dropped Cody off and was driving back to Rico’s, all the good feelings she’d had about Cody’s stay at the foster home had dissolved. Nancy’s daily journal detailed Cody’s fights with the other kids, sulking in his room. Not talking. He’d started therapy and Macy had hoped it would help him get comfortable in his new surroundings. But according to Nancy, it wasn’t happening. If he didn’t shape up soon, the woman said she’d have to talk to the social worker about finding him another placement.

Macy tightened her grip on the wheel. That was the problem with the system. Everything was temporary. If they didn’t find Cody’s parents or a close relative, he’d probably be shifted from one foster home to another until he was eighteen. Just thinking about made her chest hurt.

So, not only was she getting too involved with Rico, she was doing the same with Cody. What was that about? Cody wasn’t the first child she’d worked with and he wouldn’t be the last.

Pulling into Rico’s driveway, she remembered they were going grocery shopping. She couldn’t pinpoint when she’d last done that. She usually just grabbed a bite on her way home.

The front door opened as she stepped from her car, and Rico poked his head outside. “Why don’t you pull into the garage? Your car won’t be at risk that way.”

She hadn’t thought about that. “Is this a bad neighborhood?”

“No, but why take a chance? Teenagers are the same everywhere.”

He hit a handheld remote and the garage door slid up. Ready to get back in her car, she stopped. “What about the groceries?”

“We’ll take my car. It’s bigger and we don’t have to worry about getting it dirty.” She set Hercules down in the grass and pulled the Mercedes inside. When she came out, Rico was holding the dog.

“I think he likes me.”

“He likes everybody. Do I have time to change? My pants are dirty from playing kick ball.”

“Kick ball? You?” He didn’t disguise his astonishment.

“Yeah, me!”

“Hmm. I never would’ve guessed.” He went to the front door, opened it and went inside.

“Me neither.” She didn’t bother to explain and he didn’t ask. Truth was, she’d been doing a lot of things since she met Rico that she never thought she’d do.

She changed into a pair of jeans and an hour and a half later, they were stalking the aisles at the supermarket. Macy couldn’t believe how much food Rico kept throwing in the cart, most of it for the barbecue tomorrow. Hot dogs, hamburgers and steak, so people would have a choice, he’d said. Beer, soda and wine. Beans and the makings for both potato salad and a pasta salad.

“So, who’s going to cook all this stuff?” She hoped he wasn’t going to depend on her for any of it. Not that she didn’t want to help, she simply didn’t have the experience.

“Me,” he said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“You cook?”

“Anything you want,” he said, beaming. “Grab a few bags of chips over there.”

She did as he said and balanced them on top so they wouldn’t get crushed. “Remember the restaurant I mentioned? Well, we all had to do our share and most of us learned to cook at home, too, in case my parents couldn’t do it for some reason.” He sauntered down the aisle, checking each side.

“Sounds like an ideal childhood.”

“At the time I thought it sucked. We didn’t have much money and we were forced to learn the meaning of hard work. I guess that was a good thing. Kept us out of trouble.” He nodded toward a shelf. “Pasta.”

She grabbed it and tossed it to him. “Growing up in a large family sounds wonderful.”

“Most of the time it was. But we fought like hell, too. You get territorial when you have someone snitching your stuff all the time.”

“Is that why you haven’t managed to get married? You don’t want to share?”

“Yep. I’m selfish.”

“Yeah, right. You’re the most unselfish man I know.”

“Thanks, but no one in my family will believe that.”

Rico navigated the overflowing cart to the checkout line and started chucking the food onto the conveyer belt. Macy reached to help him, wondering what it would be like to do this with someone on a regular basis. No, not just someone — with Rico.

Suddenly he tossed her a head of lettuce and she caught it on the fly. “Soccer, huh?”

She tossed the lettuce back, laughing. “Yes, soccer.”

He shook his head.

“What? I don’t look the type?”

“Excuse me, sir,” the clerk interrupted. “That’ll be $175.00.”

“Sorry,” Rico apologized and paid the girl.

On the way to the car, Rico said, “I think you’ll like my parents. They can be a little overbearing sometimes, but with them, what you see is what you get.”

She smiled, but her stomach churned. She was actually nervous about meeting his parents. How bizarre. He’d said he’d told them she was under protection, so it shouldn’t be any big deal that she was staying with him. And they did have separate bedrooms.

Right. If that’s all it was to her, she wouldn’t be having a problem. She liked Rico. She trusted him. He was honest, his integrity was beyond reproach and he was funny.

So there it was. She liked him and because she liked him, she was nervous about meeting his parents. It felt almost like being a teenager again.

“Okay, we’re outta here,” Rico said.

Back at the house, they carried in the groceries and set the bags on the dark blue ceramic countertop. The kitchen, small as it was, had a charm of its own. She could see that the original structure had been built in the 1920s because it had an Art Deco feel with rounded corners and arched alcoves.

She could tell someone had remodeled at some point, but not enough to change the ambience. The floor as well as the countertops were tiled in ceramic but in different colors. The old adobe tiles on the floor were perfect with the old-fashioned maple cabinets. The sink was white cast iron and the stove and refrigerator looked like something out of an old Bogart movie. Rico said he hadn’t done anything to dress up the place. But it was comfortable — bright and cheery and she felt bright and cheery standing there with Rico.

As they unpacked the food, the phone rang.

“Santini here.”

She heard him rattle off a bunch of code numbers and the word homicide. When he hung up, he placed his hands on the counter.

“I gotta go. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I can handle things here.”

“You sure?”

“How hard is it to put groceries away?”

“Can you start the salads?”

“Start the salads?” She almost choked. “What do you mean?”

“Boil the eggs, potatoes and pasta.”

“I’ve never made any of those things before.”

“You can’t boil eggs?” His expression switched from hopeful to incredulous.

“I didn’t say I couldn’t. I said I never have. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

By the time Rico left, she had his cell phone number, had promised not to open the door for anyone, and had a list of cooking instructions as long as her arm. Lord, if she made it through the rest of the weekend, she’d be amazed.

Despite all that, she was glad to have something to do to take her mind off wondering what had happened to her child.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

RICO WORRIED ABOUT Macy the whole time he was away. He’d called twice and he could tell by her voice she thought he was overreacting. Now, pulling into his drive at 2 a.m., he noticed the lights were still on.

“Macy?” he said so she’d know it was him.

“I’m in here.”

Her voice came from the kitchen. “Why are you still up?” The odor of burned food permeated the air. When he reached the kitchen, he stopped short. Dirty pots and pans filled the sink, but there were still two pots of something boiling on the stove. Macy was barefoot, wearing shorts and leaning on the counter, her hair half out of the ponytail and in her eyes. Her pink T-shirt was covered in something that didn’t smell so hot, but he couldn’t tell what. And the look she gave him warned that he’d better not say a word. She held up a hand to make sure.

“I’ve been following your directions,” she said. “And again, they’re not the best directions in the world.”

He was speechless.

“Not for a beginner.” She rubbed her cheek with one hand and shook the list in his face with the other. “For example. Here—” she pointed at the list “—here you say to place the potatoes in a pot and fill with water. Boil until done.”

“Yeah. That’s pretty clear, isn’t it?”

She glared in exasperation. “You didn’t say how big the pot should be, how many potatoes, if they were to be peeled or not, and you didn’t say how long to cook them. And did you know that when they boil, the water goes all over the stove?”

“But what are you cooking now?”

Her mouth quirked sideways. “Potatoes. It took me a while to get it right.” She flipped a hand toward the pots in the sink. “I burned the first batch. Then I had to go to the store for more.”

He clenched his hands. “That wasn’t a good idea. It’s dangerous out there. A woman alone. At night.”

“Oh? Well, if I hadn’t gone to the store you wouldn’t have any potatoes for the potato salad.”

She looked so cute that, despite himself, he wanted to kiss her. “What about the eggs and the pasta?”

“Yeah, that’s another thi—” She stopped. Sighed. Took a breath, as if calming herself. “I had to get more eggs, too.” She spun around, her expression somber. “I discovered that eggs will blow up if you let them go too long and the water boils away, too.”

To keep from laughing, he went to the refrigerator for a beer. He pulled out a bottle of Bud and held it up to see if she wanted one, too.

“Sure, why not.”

“And the pasta?” He was almost afraid to ask. “How did that go?”

“It’s in the refrigerator cooling. There were good directions on the back of the package. And once I found a recipe for potato salad in one of your cookbooks, I figured out how to do the potatoes. Everything’s okay.”

He opened both bottles and handed her one. “Would you like a glass?”

She shook her head. “No, this is fine.” Then she proceeded to guzzle about half the bottle. “Mmm. Wish I’d thought about this earlier.”

She took another swig, then set the bottle on the counter. “So — how was your night?”

“Apparently a piece of cake compared to yours.” He couldn’t help grinning, then went to check the potatoes on the stove. “Ten more minutes should do it. Why don’t you go to bed and I’ll take care of this.”

“What comes next?”

“Next?”

“The food. When do you assemble the food?”

“Oh…uh, ideally, I would’ve made the salads tonight, but I’ll do it in the morning.”

“I can help, if you want.”

He hoped his skepticism didn’t show.

“It’ll be easier since you’ll be here to give me directions.”

“Uh, sure. I’d love to have help. Now go to bed because we’ll need to be up by six or there won’t be enough time to get everything ready before the horde arrives.”

She pursed her lips and swiped at a stray hair with the back of her hand. “Six? That’s in four hours.”

“Uh-huh.”

Her expression said she thought he was crazy. But she didn’t complain. “Okay.” She pivoted, started to walk away, then turned back and smiled. “Good night, then.”

Watching her saunter down the hall made his breathing shallow and his blood start pumping. Just looking at those long, slender legs reminded him what they felt like wrapped around him. But he’d vowed to leave her alone while she stayed with him.

And if he didn’t stop ogling her, he’d burn the second batch of potatoes.

***

WHERE ARE YOU, BITCH!
Macy bolted upright in bed. Her nightshirt was slick with sweat and her heart raced as if she’d just run a marathon. Just a dream. Only a dream. She inhaled, filling her lungs with as much air as possible, then slowly let it out. No, a nightmare.

Only she was awake now and the man who’d attacked her was in the hospital under police guard. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and realized she wasn’t in her own bed. She was at Rico’s.

She was safe here. Safe with Rico. She lay back on the pillow and stretched her arms above her head.

The light filtering through the blinds told her it was morning. She heard a banging noise. Smelled coffee. Oh, no. Damn. She’d overslept. She got up, threw on a robe and checked to see if the bathroom was open. It was, so she grabbed her toiletry bag and hurried across the hall.

Rico’s razor, shaving cream, toothpaste and toothbrush sat on a shelf to the right of the sink. A white terrycloth robe hung on the back of the door. She brushed a hand against the fabric, then leaned closer, breathing in the clean masculine scent. Rico’s.

Still thinking about him, she went to the sink and set her toiletries on the empty shelf and stood back for a look. This is what it’s like to live with someone. Sharing space. She liked the feeling. Being a part of someone else’s life. But a temporary feeling, because when she left here, she’d be alone again.

She needed a shower. Needed to stay in the moment.

When finished, she pulled her wet hair into a ponytail and threw on white shorts, red T-shirt and her favorite flip-flops, and then headed to the kitchen, the rich scent of coffee teasing her nostrils. She stopped in the archway. Rico was standing next to the counter chopping something, and right then, her stomach growled. Loud.

Rico turned.

“Hey,” she said. “Good morning.”

“Good morning. I hope that sound I heard means you’re hungry.”

“Starved. But what I really need is coffee.”

He poured her a cup. “Black. Right?”

“Good memory.” She went over and took the cup from him, purposely brushing his fingers as she did. He smelled fresh from the shower himself, but his hair was dry, so he’d obviously awakened well before she did. “Sorry I overslept.”

“No problem.”

“What are you doing?”

“Chopping onions, peppers, cheese and ham. Can you eat an omelet?”

“I could eat a horse.”

“Well, we don’t serve that here. Eggs will have to do.” He poured some eggs from a bowl into a pan and hovered over it, spatula in hand.

“What about the food for the barbecue? What can I do?”

“It’s all done. No help necessary.”

If she’d been anywhere else she might’ve been happy to get the extra hours of sleep, happy she didn’t have to help, but here, she was surprisingly disappointed. She’d wanted to help Rico. And it was her own fault for getting up so late. “I’m sorry. I really wanted to…contribute.”

He dumped the vegetables he’d been cutting on top of the egg mixture in the pan, and she watched as he let it cook for a while, then flipped it over.

“There’ll be plenty to do before the family arrives. Make hamburger patties, lemonade and Kool-Aid for the kids….”

“Okay.” She grinned. “I feel better now.”

He slipped the omelet onto a plate and set it on the table. Then he proceeded to make another. “Go ahead. Eat. Mine will take a couple extra minutes.”

Sitting, she took a sip of coffee and waited for him anyway. “What time is your family coming?” Her stomach twinged at the thought. What was the big deal? These were people she would likely never see again.
Get a grip, Capshaw
.

“Sometime around noon. But with my family, you never know. Some come early, my parents usually, and the others dribble in. If we’re ready before noon, we’ll be fine.”

Great. That gave her a few hours to get some things done at the office.

He slipped the other omelet onto a plate and sat beside her. “There’s toast.” He pointed to a plate already on the table. “And orange juice. Would you like some?”

She shook her head. “No thanks.”

“Okay — then let’s eat.” He waited for her to take a bite. “It’s good. I guarantee it.”

She took a forkful, her taste buds salivating. “Mmm. You’re right. It’s wonderful.”

Watching her, he seemed pleased that she liked it and then he dived into his own.

“I have to go to my office for a little while this morning, but I can be back in an hour or so to help.”

“The office?”

“I need to get some things.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea? The place will be empty.”

“I can’t have you go everywhere with me, and I do have a job, I have appointments, court dates and clients need things.”

“On a Sunday?”

“Well, no. But I’m behind.”

“Can’t you at least wait until we get a fix on the guy who attacked you? The detective on the case said he’d let me know as soon as the creep wakes up, and at the very least, we should know something tomorrow.”

Again, he made a good argument. She wasn’t all that comfortable about going to an empty building, either, but she couldn’t just let everything slide. “It’s possible that he just wanted to rob me and hearing me in the room, he decided to keep me quiet. Or maybe he just wanted to scare me. Like that note I received.”

“Anything is possible. But until we know for sure, you’re better off taking precautions.”

She nodded. “You’re right. If we haven’t heard anything soon, I’ll hire someone.”

“Hire someone?”

“Yes. A bodyguard.”

He thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. I forgot you can afford to do things like that.”

She didn’t like the edge in his tone.

He finished his omelet, took his plate to the sink and stood there for a moment, as if reconciling something within himself. He turned. “Do what you need to do. But do it safely. That’s my only concern.”

A sharp ring of the doorbell interrupted them. “I’ll bet that’s my parents.”

Macy’s pulse quickened. “Already?”

“Finish your breakfast,” he said and left to answer the door.

As if she could eat now. She heard their greetings and after a couple more bites, she took the dishes to the sink and was placing them in the dishwasher when Rico came up behind her. “Macy, I’d like you to meet my parents.”

So much for going to the office. Macy wiped her hands on a towel and turned around.

Rico spread his hands. “My mother, Josephine, and my dad, Mario.” He smiled. “And this is Macy Capshaw.”

The resemblance was there. Rico had his mother’s sparkling eyes and Mario’s big smile. Josephine, a well-endowed woman, immediately came over and hugged Macy, which was quickly followed by another hug from Mario. “We’re so happy to meet you, dear,” Josephine said.

Feeling awkward, Macy simply smiled and said, “I’m pleased to meet you, too.” Hercules hovered around Macy’s ankles, so she picked him up. “And this is Hercules. Herc for short.”

Josephine rubbed behind the dog’s ears, commented about how cute he was, then turned to look at Rico. “What can I do? Or don’t you need my help?”

“I always need your help,” Rico said. “How about if Dad and I get things set up outside while you two finish here in the kitchen. Make the hamburger patties and lemonade, get out the chips and plates and all that stuff.”

“That’s it?”

“Mom, you’re on vacation, remember?”

Mario gave her a look, too, the thick lines in his forehead deepening. “I keep telling her, but you know she won’t sit down. She’s always fussing over something.”

“Go.” Josephine shooed the two men out the back door.

Macy set Hercules down and he followed Rico and Mario as if he was one of the guys. She was amazed at how quickly the pup had taken to Rico. Hercules hadn’t warmed to her parents at all, not even after four years.

“Well, there’s not much for us to do, is there?” Josephine lamented. “But this place could use a little cleaning.” As she was talking, Rico’s mother went to the refrigerator and took out the hamburger.

Macy washed her hands, removed the chips from the bags, took out the lemonade, and searched for a pitcher to make the drinks. Josephine pointed to one of the cabinets.

“Do you visit Rico often?” Macy asked.

“Once a year. We like to take all the grandchildren to Disneyland and spend some time with them at the shore.”