Erica Spindler - Copy Cat

Her friend’s expression softened with understanding. And regret. For her. “Kitt, damn…I’m so sorry.”

Danny, like her other AA friends, knew her heart. They knew all her hurts and fears, all the things that had sent her into the bottle in the first place.

He brought his arms around her. She rested her head on his chest, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion.

And tired. So very tired.

“It hurt so bad,” she said, voice small. “I felt…feel so betrayed.”

He gently rubbed her back, rhythmically smoothing his fingers over her knotted muscles.

“He’s replacing Sadie,” she murmured, tipping her face up toward his. “And I can’t bear the thought…I can’t bear the thought of them all living together, being a family.”

“But drinking isn’t going to make it better. It only masks the pain. And when you come off the binge, you feel worse.”

“I know, Danny, and I promise you, I’m not falling back into the trap.”

He searched her expression. “You’re particularly vulnerable right now. You need us, more than ever.”

“I’m fine. I-”

“Fine? You’re not! Jesus, Kitt, you’re an alcoholic. You can’t just turn it on and off. It’ll grab a hold of you again and-”

“It won’t. I have it under control.” She saw that he meant to argue with her and went on. “I can’t think about anything but the case right now. It consumes my every waking thought. I have to catch him, Danny.”

He took a step back from her. “Listen to yourself. Don’t you see what you’re doing? Don’t you recognize what’s happening to you?”

“Yeah, I recognize it. I’m alive again. I have purpose. Resolve. And you know what? I like it.”

“That’s addictive behavior. You’re substituting one compulsion for another.”

“You don’t understand the nature of police work.”

“That may be, but I understand the nature of addiction.” She tried to turn away; he stopped her. “Are you sleeping? Taking time to eat? Real food, not crap? And what about downtime? Catching a movie or calling a friend?”

“I’m in the middle of a murder investigation. I don’t have time for things like movies or girlfriends.”

He closed the distance between them. “Dammit, Kitt, you’re driving me frigging nu-”

He kissed her. For a split second she was too shocked to respond, then she pushed him away, furious. “What the hell was that?”

His face flooded with color. He looked angry. “Nothing. It was nothi-”

He bit the last back, turned and strode toward the door.

“Danny, wait! Let’s talk about this.”

He didn’t stop and a moment later the door slammed shut. She ran after him, through the door and onto the porch. “Danny! Come on, it’s-”

Too late, she saw as he started his car and roared away from the curb. She watched until his taillights disappeared from sight, then turned and went back inside.

She locked the door behind her, then rubbed her arms, chilled from the night air. She would call him tomorrow, after he’d had a chance to cool down. Get over what was undoubtedly anger and embarrassment caused by her rejection.

Dammit. She didn’t want to lose his friendship. She valued it. But she wasn’t attracted to him. That wasn’t going to change.

She felt suddenly drained. Why’d he have to pull this now? She didn’t have the time or energy to deal with this. She had a killer to catch. Make that two killers-one of whom had made her mission personal.

“No, Kitten, it’s the children you care about. The little girls.”

He had turned the tables on her. He knew her, her deepest fears. How had he managed it?

She began to pace, her fatigue falling away. Replaced by a kind of nervous energy. She went over what he’d said.

“How fast and how hard would you run to save another little girl? Another Sadie?” And then, “Aren’t there some little girls in your life right now? Are you strong enough to protect them? Smart enough?”

She stopped pacing. She realized her heart was pounding. Her hands shaking.

Little girls. In her life.

Are you strong enough to save them? Smart enough?

It hit her all at once then. Joe. His fiancée’s ten-year-old daughter, Tami. The Leukemia Society fair. The clown and his balloon.

Dear God. The SAK knew about Tami.

Tami was the little girl at the periphery of her life.

Fear grabbed her in a stranglehold. She pictured Tami, her shy smile and pretty brown eyes. She had to warn Joe. She had to warn his fiancée.

Kitt found her shoes, slipped into them. Her sweatshirt jacket was next, followed by a search for her car keys. She located them, grabbed her purse and headed out into the cold night.

The drive to the Highcrest Road home she and Joe had shared took less time than normal because of the hour. The house was dark; his pickup truck sat in the driveway. She wheeled into the drive, stopped behind the truck, slammed out of her car and ran to his front door.

She rang the bell, then pounded on the door. “Joe!” she called. “It’s me, Kitt! Open up!”

She pounded again, calling out, growing desperate.

Finally, she heard the dead bolt slide back; a moment later the door opened.

He’d thrown a robe on over his boxers. “Kitt?” he said. “What-”

“Tami’s in danger,” she said. “We have to warn Valerie.”

He blinked and she had a sense that he was only waking up now. “Tami,” he repeated. “In danger?”

“Yes. From the SAK. Because of me.”

He gazed at her a moment, then opened the door wider. “It’s cold. Come in.”

She stepped into the foyer; he closed the door behind them. It smelled like him she realized. Not like them, their family, anymore.

She faced him. “You have to call Valerie. Now. Tonight. It’s that important.”

“Slow down, Kitt. You’re talking crazy. How would this madman even know Tami?”

“The Leukemia Society fund-raiser. He was there. Dressed as a clown, selling balloons.”

Joe’s eyebrows shot up. “A clown? Selling balloons?”

“Yes, dammit! He saw our exchange and gave me a pink balloon. He called me later, asked me if I liked it.”

“This is madness.”

“True. But that doesn’t mean I’m crazy. He threatened me.”

“He threatened you?”

“By threatening the little girls. The ones I care about, the ones in my life.”

“Kitt-”

Her hackles rose at the way he said her name. Patiently. As if talking to a headstrong child. Or a nutcase.

“He said ‘little girls at the periphery of my life.’ I just realized tonight that he was talking about Tami. Don’t you get it? Tami’s at the periphery of my life. She’s the only one.”

“Goddammit, Kitt, just stop!”

The words exploded from him and she took a step back, shocked. Joe rarely swore, and certainly not that epithet. She could count on one hand the number of times he had lost his temper and yelled.

“It’s happening again, isn’t it? The same thing that happened to you last time. You’re losing it, falling apart.”

“It’s not like that! Just listen.”

“No. Look at you. You’re not sleeping, are you? Not eating right. You can’t think about anything but the case.”

“No…no…listen. I think he’s been in my house. He’s stalking me. He knows-”

“Are you drinking again? Because if you’re not now, it’s next.”

“I’m different now. That’s not going to happen.” She grabbed his hands. “I know Tami’s in trouble. Because of me, she’s caught the attention of a killer. I couldn’t bear it if-If she was hurt because of me. If something happened to her.”

He curled his fingers around hers. “It’s not your fault that Sadie died. You couldn’t have saved her. Or the girls that monster murdered. None of their deaths are your fault.”