The scent of fresh baked bread made her pick up the pace.  Run faster.  Get to the sanctuary of the café ahead.  Out of breath, lungs burning from the cold December air, she pulled open the door and found shelter.  

Seth Bellingham sat in the café trying to ignore the old woman who groused at him about sitting at the tiny table in the corner with the reserved sign engraved with Paige’s name.  He told her he’d move when the she came in, and he would, but right now, he needed the seclusion.  

This morning had been one in a series of horrible mornings since he’d come home, to Portland, Maine, to deal with his father.  Bellingham didn’t want to take his mother to the hospital and they’d argued.  She insisted and would have to deal with the consequences.  

He’d been told to leave — to abandon her with the bitter old man.  He’d left angry. Furious at how easily the old man still manipulated him. He didn’t want to be here — he didn’t belong anymore.   

        Unfortunately, until his father died, he was trapped in Maine.  He’d promised his mother he’d stay and be here for her.  Until then, he’d finish his career as a police officer while becoming a Watchkeeper for Richard Thorndike’s agency at the same time.  His first case for Richard, a.k.a. Rick, wouldn’t be a hardship.  He considered it a favor for a friend and a fellow cop.  Brock Logan wanted his sister, Paige, watched because of the recent abductions of the child psychologists and caseworkers.

The harsh sound of bells slamming against the door made him look up.  A fierce pixie flew in.  She’d been running and looked angry.  He checked his watch.  She was right on schedule.  He’d been watching her from a distance, but the last abduction hit too close to her and the time to meet in person had come.  

The knit cap she’d pulled over her head obscured her face and her eyes were undistinguishable, but he still recognized her.  Paige Logan.  He felt the same sexual punch he had when he’d first seen her picture.  Her red cheeks and the sweaty face didn’t lessen the impact.  He sat back waiting for her to come to him.  She wouldn’t be happy that he’d taken her seat.  

Damn.  Couldn’t anything be simple today?  Paige hadn’t noticed him and her arms were flailing as she spoke to the old woman at the counter.  Bellingham didn’t want to blow his cover yet, but she appeared to need help and he couldn’t ignore her any longer.  

He stood up and walked over to the two women.  Paige had removed her hat, allowing her riotous, long, blond hair to fall free.  Her arms were frantically waving as she poured out her problems.

“Mrs. Littleton, he took Jenny last night and for the past few days a black SUV has been watching me.  It was outside the hospital when I left for my run.  I took the stairs.  I’m afraid he followed me here.”

As Bellingham approached them, he noticed she still had her hospital I.D. pinned to her top.  He no longer cared how upset she was.  She’d been careless and he wouldn’t allow it.  Time to teach her a lesson.   

He reached out as if to read her name and slipped his hand under her name badge.  He heard her sharp intake of breath and looked up without moving his hand.  He could feel her heart racing and saw her chocolate, brown eyes flare with panic.  She deserved a good scare for being stupid enough to wear her I.D. in public, and he was going to give it to her.   

She pulled away from him and stepped back behind the counter.  Bellingham parried her move by leaning on the surface and looked her in the eye as he tapped her I.D. with his finger. “Paige Logan, how nice to make your acquaintance.  I see you work at Maine Medical Center, in Children’s Psychiatry.  Isn’t that one of the areas that the women have disappeared from?”  

She pushed his hand away and pulled her badge off.  “I don’t know you, so I suggest you leave and crawl back into your hole.”  

Bellingham gave her his best smarmy, used car dealer smile that was guaranteed to make her skin crawl. He hated doing it, but he considered it his version of “Scared Straight” for stupid females. 

“No harm meant.  Think of it as a tip for a little sister of a friend.”   

Paige felt her heart stutter and leaned on the counter.  “What’s that suppose to mean?”  

“I have a little sister and I hope someone would point out such a stupid mistake to her.” 

Paige doubted his answer, however part of her hated to admit he might be right.  She stood at the counter and watched him walk away toward her table.  She knew that gait – predator and protector at the same time.  Her brother walked the same way.  This guy might be acting like a jerk, but she’d bet anything he had a badge in his pocket.  Cops.  Once you had one in the family, you became a magnet for them.    

Comforted with the knowledge he was a cop that her brother probably sent, she tried to calm her heart rate and admire the scenery.  His suit looked good on him and hugged his firm gluts.  She guessed he preferred civvies, and suspected he hadn’t been working the civilized side of law enforcement for a while.  His black hair had been much longer until recently based on the wide white line beneath the edge of his hair.  His shoulders were wide like her brother’s and she judged him to be about as tall, topping at least six feet.  His eyes were so dark they were almost as black as his hair.  She tapped her fingers against her lips consider her options.

Paige turned to Mrs. Littleton, “I’ll take my tea with me now, but if you could bring my sandwich over when it’s ready, I’d really appreciate it.”

Paige headed for her usual table and its uninvited occupant.  Now that she knew his game, she’d play one of her own.  She wondered how he’d deal with a small table and a warm woman backing him into a corner.  When she reached the table she pulled up an extra chair next to his and brushed his thigh with her leg as she sat down.

She picked up the sign Mr. Littleton had engraved her name on and ran it slowly through her fingers while looking him in the eye.  He showed no reaction, except for the slight tremble when he put his coffee cup down.  Paige put the sign down and ran her fingertip over the top of his hand and asked, “Will you show me your badge?” 

“What makes you think I’m a cop?”

“Only a cop would play the sick game you just did.” 

“Maybe, maybe not.  How do you think the kidnapper gets the women to go with him voluntarily?  I bet I could get you to walk out with me right now and no one would know what happened to you.”

In a hurry to get away, Paige tipped her chair over when she stood up.  She hadn’t thought this through.  He could be a cop, but the kidnapper could be a cop or a doctor or even a friend.  No one knew.  How stupid could she be?

His beeper went off startling her.  She jumped, stumbled and almost fell until he caught her arm to stop her.  Paige saw his big hand and his dark eyes looking down at her.  She flinched and turned her head to deflect the expected blow. 

He let go of her arm, stood perfectly still and spoke to her in a soft voice.  “Paige.  No one’s going to hurt you.”  

She knew soft voices didn’t mean soft hands, but she no longer let them rule her life.  Paige took a deep breath and stiffened her spine.  Before she spoke to him, she clasped her hands tightly to stop them from shaking, then looked up into his dark eyes.  “I don’t know who you are, but I want you to leave me alone.  If you don’t leave, I’ll have Mrs. Littleton call...”

        His beeper went off again before she could finish her threat.  She watched him look at it then turn toward the door.  He stopped briefly in the doorway, made eye contact and said, “We’re not done, Paige.”

                            ***

The code on his pager had been work related and not his father’s health.  Relief and regret washed through him as he called his partner from the parking lot.  He would’ve asked for a ride, but the crime scene was over the hill, only a steep, stair-climb away.  It appeared the kidnapper had turned into a murderer.

Twenty minutes later the elevator doors opened facing the sign for Children’s Psychiatry.  Bellingham froze.  Places like this never changed.  Dreary gray waiting areas filled with old, broken toys and troubled people.  He was fifteen again and angry with his mother, for forcing him to come.  Talking to someone wouldn’t help.  No one understood how he felt and never would.  They kept asking him, how it made him feel.  Why?  They didn’t care.

The tap on his arm brought Bellingham back to the present.  He saw his new partner and childhood friend, a tall, wiry, carrot-top named, Jake O’Brien, eyeing him with caution before he asked, “Are you okay?  Did they get the results back on your father’s tests yet?”

        Bellingham shoved the elevator door that bumped him for the second time, and stepped out.  “I don’t know what the results are.  The old man threw me out after I dropped my mother off.”

        He turned off the subject of his father with years of practice and asked, “What do we have?” 

       Jake gave him the rundown.  “The hospital security was here first, followed by a couple of uniforms.  They secured the scene and waited for us.  I got here a few minutes ago.”

        Bellingham followed Jake down the hall, past all the doors that normally would’ve been closed, hiding the private sessions of pain and trauma.  Today the doors were open, filled with faces of doctors and patients curious about someone else’s misery.  The last time he’d seen a place like this, he was a scared, lanky fifteen-year-old with dark shaggy hair, fearful eyes and a gut full of pain and guilt.  His years in the military and on the police force created his muscular six-two frame, and had taught him how to use his dark features and impenetrable aura to put the fear in other people’s eyes. 

When Jake and Bellingham reached the door, blocked by crime scene tape, they ducked under the strips of yellow and black plastic to enter the office.  Jake handed him a file out of his briefcase.  Bellingham compared the pictures of the missing mental health workers with the neatly posed victim in the chair and said, “Well, it appears we’ve located Rebecca Pettis.  The sick SOB returned her to the last place she was seen alive.”

“Was she the psychologist?” 

        “No.”  Bellingham continued, “She has L.M.S.W. after her name.  According to the chart of initials that the psych department so kindly provided, it stands for Licensed Master Social Worker.  Rebecca’s background info says she worked mostly with sexually abused kids.  Pretty rough stuff.”

Bellingham listened to Jake as he rattled on about the case.  He wondered how Jake hid his anger about it.  Some did it with alcohol, some buried it deep, until they could beat it out in a gym and others used humor.  Jake appeared to use humor even when inappropriate.  That much about Jake hadn’t changed.  After this morning, Bellingham needed to get to a gym and beat on something, hard.

Jake continued, “Before you got here, I spoke with security and they have video tapes of the entrances.  We’re pulling from two p.m. yesterday until noon today.”  Jake stopped talking for a moment while he pulled the small notebook out of his shirt pocket, and began to flip through it until he found what he was looking for. 

“Here it is.  Dr. Elliott came in here around two p.m. yesterday to get a file and the office was empty.  When Dr. Timothy Alexander came in for a file, at approximately noon he found her, posed like this.  Hopefully, the tapes narrow the time down and will tell us who delivered her here, back to her office.”

Jake took the file from Bellingham looked over the notes in the file.  “Rebecca was the first abduction victim.  Because there were no signs of struggle when she disappeared, her case was treated as a missing person.” 

He slammed the file down on the desk and starred at the woman in the chair and grabbed Jake’s arm pulling him closer.  “Look at her. Why would anyone think that?  She’s thirty-three, the mother of two small kids and happily married.  They have a house with a mortgage and the usual struggles.  Why would anyone think she’d just walk away?  Why did her husband and kids have to wait forty-eight hours to have her declared missing?”

Jake pulled his arm away and patted him on the back.  “I know it’s frustrating, but they followed procedure.  Hell, I wish they’d handled it different, too.  If this room would’ve been treated as a crime scene when she went missing, who knows what evidence would’ve been found.”

Bellingham walked around Rebecca looking at the pose.  She was sitting in her chair at her desk.  Her arm was propped on the desk and bent so her hand was near her mouth like she was dictating into a mini recorder that had been taped to her hand.  Her other hand rested on her desk, on top of a videocassette.

Bellingham leaned over Rebecca’s arm to look into the recorder.  “There’s a tape in there.  I’d like to see what these tapes have for us as soon as possible.  God knows what the sick bastard did to her.”

He noted a movement at the door and looked up, ready to complain about being bothered.  The picture the tall, leggy, brunette made, as she stood in the doorway in her short tailored suit staring at them, was well worth the interruption.  When she spoke, her voice held a slow, smoky quality.  “I hate to disappoint you boys, but you know the rules.  You get to play with the evidence after forensics.”

Bellingham turned to greet their visitor, but Jake beat him to it.  He lifted the yellow barrier like a gentleman and invited her in.

“Come on in, Katie,” Jake said.

Bellingham extended his hand in invitation, “Detective Bellingham, and you would be?”

        “Deputy Medical Examiner, Dr. Mulvaney.”  She glared at Jake then said to Bellingham, “You can call me Kate.” 

“Okay, Kate, what brings you to the scene?  Are the higher powers putting the pressure on this case already?”

“No, but with a murder now, I’m sure the pressure isn’t far behind.  I had to testify in court today on the Miller case.  I’d finished my testimony and was leaving when I got a call from your Lieutenant asking if I was available.  He thought with the heat this case is going to cause it would best if I handle this personally.

“So tell me Detective Bellingham, who is she?”

He handed her the photo with the name underneath.  “It looks like Rebecca Pettis.”

Bellingham verified that all the crime pictures had been taken before letting Kate handle the corpse. 

Kate walked around the chair and held the photo next to the corpse.  “I have to agree, it does look like her.  Of course, we’ll need a formal I.D.”

Bellingham nodded, “Her boss did a primary I.D.  Her husband works down the street.  A uniform went to get him.  He’s going take him to the Maine Medical Morgue.  We thought it would be easier than having him make the hour plus drive to Augusta.”

“After he makes I.D, I’ll have her taken to Augusta.  I’ll let you know when I have something for you.”

“If you could rush this I’d appreciate it.  It’s only going to get worse.  There was another abduction last night.  Almost like he had to replace Rebecca.” 

Kate nodded, “Right now I’m glad I work with dead bodies and not mentally ill children.”

        “Yeah.  It’s a dangerous profession right now.  As of last night the count is up to five kidnappings, with one of them murdered.”  He clenched his jaw when he thought about what the others might be enduring.  “There are still four victims missing.  Hopefully, still alive.  I want him caught before he takes, or kills, anyone else.”

        He left Kate inside the office and went into the hall to take in the bigger picture.  Getting someone out of their office isn’t hard if they trust you.  Getting them back in when they’re dead would be near impossible.  He hoped the surveillance tapes showed them something.  The tapes in Rebecca’s hands held more information and he hated waiting any amount of time to see those.  They needed a break in the case, and soon. 

        He saw a man fight off the uniform and burst into Rebecca’s office.  One of the officers turned to Bellingham and explained.

        “Someone told him they saw a lot of cruisers in front of his wife’s office.  We found him running down the street.” 

        Before the officer could finish, they heard the anguish in the man’s voice upon seeing his wife.  There was no need for the formal ID any longer.  He had to move.  He couldn’t deal with the grieving.

        Bellingham took his phone out and walked down to Paige’s office.  Standing in front of the door he dialed a number and waited for Brock to answer.  ‘Voice mail – leave a message.’  “Here’s a message for you.  Who the hell used your sister as a punching bag?  I witnessed a panic attack today.  Call me.” 

        He clicked off and pocketed the phone while thinking, so what if it wasn’t a full-blown panic attack, but more of a moment of panic.  Let Brock suffer.  He looked up to see Paige headed straight for him with a full head of steam.  She’d obviously recovered.  He preferred mad to scared any day. 

                     ***

Paige had spent the last hour walking off her anger and getting over her embarrassment.  With years of therapy, she’d stopped the flashbacks.  She hadn’t had one in over five years and refused to give into them again.  She chalked this one up to the stress of her friend having been kidnapped last night, a strange man who reminded her of her father and a black SUV that seemed to be following her the past few days.  When he reached for her, she knew it was to steady her, but all she could see was her father’s big hand and the pain that followed.

She shook off the feelings and headed for the hospital.  It was her day off, but work had backed up with Rebecca missing.  She entered the elevator and thought about contacting the chief of police about the cop in the café.  However, right now she wanted to avoid contact with the police department and a certain Lieutenant.   

The elevator doors opened to a cacophony of chaos and confusion.  People were everywhere they shouldn’t be and yellow crime scene tape altered the landscape of the third floor.  Something bad had happened, again.  Paige stood rooted in the elevator doorway until the doors bumped her when trying to close.  Jolted back into focus, she fixated on one person.  A tall, dark and dangerous looking man with a badge.

Paige marched down the hall, comforted by the amount of uniformed officers around her.  He stood there watching her approach him like it was a game.  To her this was life and death and most likely had been for someone else.

Paige stopped inches from him.  She’d be in control this time.  She wanted answers and she’d get them.  “Who are you?  How long have you been following me?  Who asked you to do it?”

He put his hands out, palms up.  She assumed, to assure her that this time he wouldn’t touch her.  “Look, Paige, I’m sorry about earlier.  It just scared me when you still had your badge on.  I had to make you see the danger.  I’ll admit I went too far.”

“That’s a real nice apology, but you didn’t answer any of my questions.”

“It’s all you’re going to get.  However, I have some questions for you.”

Paige raised her finger to poke him in the chest and he deflected it with his palm.

“I wouldn’t do that.  You wouldn’t want me to have to take you in for assaulting an officer.”

“So you finally admit that you’re a cop?”

“I never denied it, but if you need proof, here.”  He opened and closed his badge case with a flip and put it away.

“Hey, I didn’t even get a chance to see your name.”

“You saw my badge and I’ll even give you the number, four-sixty-one.  That should make you feel safe enough to talk to me.”

“There’s nothing I want to discuss with you.”

He opened the door to her office and gestured for her to enter.  “No discussion involved.  You’re going to answer some questions.  The first one being, how long did you know the deceased?”

Paige felt the blood drain from her face and her knees weaken as she started to slump to the floor.  “They found Jenny.  I thought she’d still be alive.  There haven’t been any bodies yet.  She’s only been gone one day.”

He swore as he caught her around the waist and held her up.  “If you mean Jennifer Woods, it wasn’t her body.  There aren’t any new leads on her, I’m sorry.  The victim here is Rebecca Pettis.”

Afraid she’d stumble if she tried to walk, Paige allowed him to help her to the chair in her office.  She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of Tylenol to head off the pounding behind her eyes.  “Would you mind getting me a bottle of water?”  She pointed to the small mini fridge in the corner.

He pulled out two bottles, handed her one, then twisted the top off the other.  He took a long swallow before asking, “Mind if I have one?”

“And if I do?”

He shrugged his shoulders while finishing off the water.  “You still haven’t answered my question.  How long have you known the deceased?”

        She swiveled her chair around to look at him, only to find him hovering over her trying to intimidate her with the cold, penetrating gaze of his black eyes.  She’d been terrorized and bullied by the best and he didn’t come close – this time.  Paige pushed herself from the chair prepared to go toe-to-toe, but found herself chin-to-chest.  Not much of an improvement.  She stepped back a step, tilted her chin up and stared him in the eye, “Are you suggesting I’m a suspect?”

“Everyone’s a suspect until I say otherwise.”

Her voice rose with accusation.  “Do I look like someone who would abduct and kill my friends and co-workers?”

“You know what they say about the quiet ones, but then again you’re not quiet, so…”

Her voice quieted to her professional tone. “Did you become a cop so you could use your authority to intimidate people?”

He broke eye contact before saying, “Stop trying to psychoanalyze me, I don’t believe in it.  And I don’t like shrinks.”

“Too bad.  You obviously need one.”

The door closed with an alarming click.  Followed by a stern voice, “That’s enough!”

Paige recognized her boss’s voice and chose to look at him out of the corner of her eye instead of turning to face his wrath.  Too late, he had a hand on her shoulder to turn her around. 

Before she could comply or resist, the cop spun her around and tucked her safely behind him.  He stood between Paige and her boss. 

“I don’t know who you think you are, but no one grabs a woman when I’m around.”

“I’m Dr. Timothy Alexander, Head of Psychiatry, and I wasn’t grabbing Dr. Logan.”

Paige knew she could straighten this out, but when she tried to pull away from him, Bellingham increased his hold pushing her breasts solidly against his back.  A tingling sensation shot throughout her body.  Damn him.  She needed an attraction to him about as much as a toothache.  She’d had enough of this.  She wedged her arms up between them and pushed hard enough to break his hold and wiggle out.

Paige stepped between the two men and looked directly at the cop, “He’s my boss.  He wasn’t going to hurt me.”

“Then why did he grab you?”

Timothy raised his hand to silence them.  “If you’ll let me, I can explain.  I came in to stop the entertainment you’ve been providing.  I seldom lower my standards of communication to a raised voice.  However, it seems your preferred method, Detective.”

Bellingham stepped around Paige and looked down on Timothy, “Yelling isn’t something I do.  She drove me to it.”

A snort escaped Paige.  “Don’t blame this on me.  You started this in the café.”  In her own element now, she noticed his discomfort.  She thought he might even be a little embarrassed.

He walked away from Timothy, leaned down by Paige’s ear and whispered, “I didn’t start anything.  I tried to scare you.”

She pulled the pen from his pocket and began tapping it on her palm as she sat on the corner of her desk and crossed her legs.  In her no-nonsense counselor voice she said, “So you admit to terrorizing me earlier.  I do believe I’m right.  You need a shrink.”

A knock on the door interrupted them, giving her the last word.  Timothy opened it and let in Jake then said to him, “Those two working together on the team will be a nightmare.  They’ll either be arguing or making passes at each other.”

Two heads turned in unison with mouths open, but silent, until their complaints started simultaneously, blending into one argument.

“What do you mean work with her?  They said it would be a doctor, not a kid.”

“I’m can’t work on the task force.  I don’t have time.”

“They said a shrink, not a woman.  I thought a man, or older woman. Not her.”

Paige looked at Timothy and pleaded, “Please, find someone else.  Like you.”

Bellingham picked up her phone, “I’m calling headquarters.  There has to be a mistake.”

Jake said, “Sorry partner, no mistake.”

He began dialing, “I’m calling anyway.”

Paige sank into her chair and took in the scene.  How had her life managed to change so drastically in a matter of hours?  She looked at the tall, lanky, redhead, “I assume you’re Officer Sunshine’s partner.”

Jake walked over sat on the corner of her desk offered his hand.  “I think I’ll enjoy working with you.”

“Do you have a name, or are you undercover like Sunshine?”

“Let me guess, no introductions?”

“No, he introduced me to a bad attitude and a glimpse of his badge.”

“Sorry, he’s imported from Connecticut.  We’re still trying to teach him Maine manners.”

“No excuse, I’m from Connecticut too.  I’m Dr. Paige Logan.”

“Hi, I’m Detective Jake O’Brien.  You can call me Jake.”

“Please call me Paige.  Sunshine can call me Dr. Logan.”

Paige hadn’t said anything when he used her phone without asking.  She hoped he could get her off the team.  She’d watched him glance at her and Jake, then glare at both of them.  He didn’t appear to appreciate their cordial conversation.  She jumped when he slammed the phone down while he was still cursing.

“Damn it.  Stop calling me Sunshine!”

“Would you prefer Stalker?”

“I’d prefer Detective Bellingham.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway.  I’m not working on the task force, with you or anyone else.”

“I wish that were true, sweetheart, but headquarters just confirmed what the Doc and Jake said.  They want your pretty little butt on our team.”

“I’m not your sweetheart, and you can stop your sexist remarks.”  She turned towards her boss with a pleading look, “Please, Timothy, can’t you find someone else?  Why me?”

“Sorry, Paige.  They asked me for the best, and you’re it.”

Paige looked at Jake, feeling he’d be more of an ally, “whose leading the team?”

Jake answered her, “Sergeant Gibson, but Lieutenant Rogers is overseeing because of the pressure from the Chief.”

Paige jumped to her feet and began pacing, “I can’t work with him.  It’s not possible.”

Jake looked at her with sympathy in his eyes, “I know he can be difficult, but you’ll get used to him.”

Paige breathed a sigh of relief.  He thought she meant Bellingham and not the Lieutenant.

Bellingham wandered over to the corner of the room where she kept the toys.  He picked up the liquid filled magic wand that had stars and glitter tumbling from one end to the other when he tipped it.  He waved it in the air at her, “She’s right.  What do you think she’s going to do?  Wave her magic wand and solve the case?  There’s nothing she can tell us about the missing people that will help.”

        She snatched the wand out of his hand.  His comment hit home.  The case became personal last night.