Scene of the Crime: Black Creek. Carla Cassidy
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it all she would have to pretend that she was madly, desperately in love with her husband, Mick. If she could pull this off, she’d deserve an Academy Award.
She cast him a surreptitious glance. He appeared to be so relaxed, as if they were taking a vacation rather than putting their lives on the line to catch a killer.
There was a part of Cassie that wasn’t afraid of death, times when she woke up in the middle of the night vaguely surprised that she had managed to survive the madness of her childhood.
No, she wasn’t afraid of dying, but she was afraid of not doing her job properly, of somehow screwing up and letting a killer continue his work or getting somebody else killed by her carelessness.
Gazing out the window, she noticed the road they traveled was narrow and winding through the Arkansas hilly landscape. The scenery was breathtaking. Tall trees crowded the sides of the roads while woods parted occasionally to show a glimpse of bubbling streams sparkling in the bright sunshine.
She knew what she’d signed up for, she knew they were headed to a place called the Sweetheart Suites where there would be one big bed for them both to share, one small space for them both to maneuver.
Still, the closer they got to Black Creek the more real everything became for her. She hadn’t shared a bed with a man for any reason in a while. The last time had been eight years ago when she’d been dating Glen Morrow.
Glen had been a nice man, but by the end of the relationship things had gotten strained between them. Glen had finally broken it off, telling her that she had too many control issues for him to handle, that she made it impossible for anyone to love her.
Cassie had been secretly relieved. The sex had been okay, the companionship had been nice most of the time, but she hadn’t been in love with Glen and she certainly hadn’t been looking for marriage or children. She knew her limitations and she knew that inviting people into her life brought the kind of chaos she didn’t want or need.
She glanced over at Mick. At least she didn’t have to worry that a pretend honeymoon would make her fall crazy in love with him. She recognized on a base level that he threatened everything she’d worked so hard to maintain, that inviting him into her life in any way would be the biggest mistake she’d ever make.
As they crested a hill the small town of Black Creek appeared in the valley below, and as they drew closer it was obvious that honeymoon madness had possessed what had once probably been a quaint little place.
The road they were on went right through the main business district, with shops and restaurants on either side. The Wedding Cake Café, Bride and Groom Boutique, Newlywed Night Shop for Adults, all the storefronts looked as if a pink and red and white froth had exploded all over the buildings.
Interspersed amid the honeymoon-themed businesses were others that indicated the mayor hadn’t been completely successful yet in the formal renaming of Black Creek to Honeymoon Haven. The Black Creek Bank rose up three stories, stately and gray next to the Black Creek Grocery Store.
Mick turned into an entrance that led to the Sweetheart Suites and parked in front of the building marked as the office. As he got out of the car to go inside and get the key to their unit, Cassie looked around the general area.
Tiny mauve-colored cabins were nestled amid tall, fully leaved trees, and on the opposite side of the office was a swimming pool complete with a grotto and a waterfall.
An edge of anxiety pressed against her chest and she turned to look in the opposite direction. Cassie liked water only if it was contained in a bathtub.
For a brief moment she was thrown back in time and the water surrounded her as she flailed helplessly, going under the surface as her lungs threatened to burst. She reached the surface. The only sound she heard was her own frantic gasps for breath and her parents’ crazy laughter before the water pulled her down once again.
She now pulled in a deep breath of the fresh-scented air, sat up straighter in her seat and shook off the memory as Mick returned to the car.
“Lucky number seven,” he said and handed her the key on a heart-shaped key ring.
“This whole town feels kind of cheesy, don’t you think? All the hearts and flowers and lace kind of make me want to gag,” she said.
“Cassie, where’s your sense of romantic spirit?” he asked as he put the car into gear and headed to their cabin. “I think it’s kind of charming.”
She looked at him in surprise. “I’d never guess you for a romantic kind of guy.”
He smiled. “Actually, I love romance, I just don’t want it to mislead any woman into thinking I want anything to do with marriage.”
“We’re definitely on the same page there,” Cassie replied. “I never want to get married.”
“Never say never,” Mick replied, parking the car in front of their little cottage. “Home, sweet home, let’s grab the bags and check things out.”
Imagining a honeymoon cottage and actually being in one were two very different things, Cassie thought as the two of them entered unit seven.
It was one large room, with a king-size bed resting on a platform that made it the focal point. The bedspread looked as it had been made by a thousand lace doilies sewn together. Scattered across the top of the white lace were delicate pink rose petals.
A dresser with a flat-screen television on top sat at the end of the bed with a chair next to it. The only other furniture in the room was a love seat behind a coffee table that sported a fruit-and-muffin basket obviously intended as a continental breakfast and a bottle of champagne chilling on ice in a silver-plated bucket.
Cassie dropped her suitcases on the floor and walked over to the bathroom. She gasped as she peered inside, where a Jacuzzi tub big enough for four people sat in the center of the room. The glass-enclosed small shower, sink and stool seemed to be incidental.
“Definitely not the average motel room,” Mick said from over her shoulder.
It was Cassie’s nightmare. The room breathed of intimacy, of items and furniture placed specifically to promote sexuality and love. She was grateful when Mick stepped back from her and walked to the love seat.
He sank down and pulled out the paperwork that Sheriff Lambert had given them. He spread out the pieces of paper on the table before him.
“According to this information the three agents next door are Sam Hunter, Jacob Tyler and Bob Hastings.” He looked around the room. “Let’s see if they’re ready for us. Agent Hastings, if you can hear me, please walk outside your cabin door and let me see you.”
Together, Cassie and Mick peered out their front window to the cabin next door. The door opened and a tall blond man walked outside. He stretched with arms overhead and gave a small but perceptible nod of his head, then returned back inside his cabin.
“Okay, so we’re wired for sound,” Mick said as they both moved away from the window. “I suppose our next order of business is to get unpacked and figure out what we’re going to do with what’s left of the day.”
“I never unpack when I travel,” she said. “I prefer just living out of my suitcases.”
He gazed at her curiously. “Funny, I would have definitely pegged you for the kind of woman who has to iron and hang everything the minute you check in someplace.”
“That just goes to show you how little you know about me,” she replied. There had been far too many times in her childhood that she’d been roused in the middle of the night to run from some motel or rented room with only the clothes on her back, leaving everything she owned behind because they weren’t in a suitcase she could carry out. But she wasn’t about to share the madness of her childhood with anyone, especially Mick.
“Well, I’d better get my shirts hung up, otherwise everyone will wonder why you married such a wrinkled man.” As he began to hang his shirts in the closet just off the bathroom, Cassie