Authors: Ronica Black
Liz sighed and tossed her keys on the counter. “I think we’re done here, Kris. I’m busy.” Her voice was low, a fierce grumble.
“We need to talk.”
“About what?”
“What do you think?” Kristen knew her voice sounded as tightly strung as her emotions.
Liz walked into the adjoining room, untucking her shirt as she walked. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“The hell there isn’t!”
Liz turned, her eyes ablaze, but her voice still low and calm. “Will you quit being a princess and tell me what it is that has you so excited?”
“Oh, well at least I finally got your attention.” Kristen resented how calm Liz was, how calm she always was. If she hadn’t felt it firsthand, she would have wondered if the other woman even had a pulse. Nothing ever seemed to worry her. With the exception of her incredible temper and even more incredible sex drive, Kristen had never seen Liz get excited. The more she thought about it, the more it infuriated her. “While you were off playing with blondie, I was stuck here with the cops up my ass!”
Liz walked slowly back into the room, her face tight. “What happened?”
“They were here, asking me questions, talking to some of our girls, some of the customers.” Kristen’s voice quivered a little as she spoke. “And where the fuck were you? Off on a date? Since when do you
date,
Liz?”
Liz’s eyes glinted with anger. “What I do, and with whom, is my own business, and you would be wise to remember that.”
Kristen was coming close to lighting a very dangerous fuse, but she didn’t care. “It is my business. Especially when you leave me here to cover for you. You think I wouldn’t rather be off fucking that blonde instead of answering to the police?”
“Her name is Katherine.” Liz seethed visibly.
Why is she so caught up and concerned about this woman? Didn’t she hear what I just said?
“What’s with you? Since when do you give a fuck what somebody’s name is?”
“Since now.” The statement was a warning.
Kristen studied her carefully. Liz’s jaw was set and a vein in her neck pumped the hot blood of a rising temper. She knew she should tread lightly, but the circumstances had pushed her beyond rational behavior. Even though it was dangerous to act so irrationally, she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Why couldn’t she just get up and walk out of the room, leave Liz alone to face the demons that were chasing them all?
She remained seated, fear halting her flight. Fear of the police, fear of Liz’s uncaring demeanor. Kristen didn’t know what it would take to get her to see the seriousness of their situation. Liz was pissed at her, that much was clear. But there was something else there too. Distance. It was as if she were looking right through her, her thoughts somewhere else altogether.
It was that woman. She had never seen Elizabeth Adams distracted like this over a woman. It was as if the police and the investigation were mere gnats, something she could swat at and easily handle. An annoyance in her rosy private world of romance. In the past, Liz’s dates had stayed with her at the club or they went out after closing time.
Kristen had never seen her drop everything and escort a woman out of the crowded club. She couldn’t believe it, but here she was witnessing it. It was finally happening—Liz was smitten.
“Jesus, this Katherine, she’s gotten to you, hasn’t she?”
Liz was silent for a moment. “Like I said before, my personal life is none of your business.” Her tone made it clear that Kristen needed to back off, otherwise there would be hell to pay.
“Whatever. Just make sure you don’t get so far into her that you forget there are things here that need to be taken care of.”
“Like what?”
“The police, for starters!”
“They’re bluffing.” Liz sat down, seemingly bored, and propped her feet up on the coffee table. “They don’t have anything on us, that’s why they’re doing what they’re doing. To shake us up.”
“I don’t give a flying fuck why they’re doing it! I want out.”
Liz laughed. “Out? Out of what? Jesus, Kris, I really had more respect for you than this. You’re doing exactly what they want you to do. Show some balls, for God’s sake.”
“What about Jay?” The question was asked in a frantic whisper, her voice lowered at the importance of the question.
“What about her?” Liz was still calm but clearly annoyed.
“She’s out of control, fucking insane. I just don’t even know what she’ll do next.” Kristen grabbed her temples, her hands shaking, her nerves on edge.
Liz leaned forward, her voice low and completely serious. “Jay will be fine, you will be fine. Just relax.”
Kristen shook her head. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m bailing.” She stood as she spoke.
“No, you’re not. You can’t.”
“Look, I know I made promises and I’ll honor them. I’ll take care of everything, make it all go away. And then I’ll be free to get out.”
“You can’t, Kris. You won’t.” Liz stood and grabbed her shoulders, lightly shaking her.
“We’ll see about that.” Kristen looked her dead in the eye, shook off the restraining grip, and walked out of the room, leaving Liz alone to stare through the open door after her.
Patricia Henderson entered the conference room and sat next to her longtime partner, Gary Jacobs. He greeted her with a short smile and pushed a cup of coffee her way.
“Thanks,” she said. “We got anything new?”
Gary was busy scribbling notes in his notebook. “A new hair,” he replied in his monotone voice.
“Found on our last victim, on Bale?” Excitement lifted her voice, reminding her why she loved detective work.
“Forensics gave us the report on it this morning.”
She could tell by his lack of enthusiasm that the hair was not a match to Adams or Reece, their two prime suspects. “So, it doesn’t have a source?”
“Not one that we know about.” He stopped writing and handed her the report. “The lab says it’s a short, dark brown hair, nonpubic in origin, most likely Caucasian, partial root intact.”
“But we don’t know yet if it’s from a male or female.” Patricia scanned the report.
“Not yet, but they are going to try to extract DNA. I wouldn’t get your hopes up, though.”
“That’ll take a while.” She sighed in defeat and looked up as Jeff Hernandez and Martin Stewart walked into the room.
“Look at it this way,” Gary said. “Someone finally screwed up and left us a crumb.”
Patricia thought back to the club, to some of Adams’s cronies. Could the hair belong to one of them? Was there a third party? None of the evidence they had so far suggested a third suspect. There were only witnesses claiming to have seen the victims with a tall blonde closely resembling Kristen Reece. And then of course there were the witnesses who had heard Adams verbally threaten the victims. That was it. That was all they had.
The room was unusually quiet and Patricia felt like a zombie. Her recent lack of sleep was quickly catching up to her. The previous night had been the worst. She had spent most of it tossing and turning, the kiss between Mac and Adams eating her alive. She cringed as she remembered the tenderness she had witnessed. Jealous bile rose in her throat as she tried to clear the intimate image from her mind. She forced her gaze from the mesmerizing grain of the conference table and focused on Sergeant Ruiz.
“Good morning, everyone.” He sounded like another person who had the Monday-morning blues. They all grumbled their replies and he began his usual pacing as he talked. “I’ve spoken with Mac just this morning and she tells me that things are going well and as planned.”
Patricia glanced down at the briefings before her. Transcripts of the conversations between Mac and Adams played out before her on paper. It seemed Mac had tested the waters with Adams, a gutsy move on her part. And even more surprising was the fact that Adams had kept her cool. But what disturbed her was the story the transcripts didn’t tell. Mac had removed the wire to swim with their suspect, and the thought of her alone and nearly nude with Adams made Patricia’s blood boil.
Whatever happened in the pool had led to the kiss she’d witnessed in the parking lot. Maybe there had been more kissing in the pool. She shook her head at the disturbing thoughts, knowing she was getting too involved emotionally in this case. She tried her best not to think about Adams seducing Mac and vice versa, but everywhere she turned she was faced with these scenarios. And more than anything, she worried for Mac’s safety and emotional well-being.
“I have some news for you all.” Ruiz tossed some photos down on the table. “These are subpoenaed photos from Elizabeth Adams’s surveillance cameras in La Femme. If you’ll look closely you’ll see Adams is present in all of them. And if you’ll note the date and time you’ll see that each photo clears her of the last murder. She was at her club the night Jonathan Bale was killed.”
Various curse words were mumbled as each detective looked at the photos that provided their chief suspect with watertight alibis.
“What about Reece? Was she there?” Gary asked.
“Not that we can see. Which, frankly, folks, is the only goddamned reason we still have a case!” He threw one of the files down on the floor as his temper got the better of him. “Otherwise we’d have zip! So you better hope to Christ that Reece wasn’t in that club on the night of the murder.”
“This still doesn’t clear Adams of being involved,” Patricia spoke up, more terrified that Adams was slipping away from them than she was of Ruiz’s temper.
Ruiz had begun pacing again, which he quickly stopped doing to look at her. “We didn’t have much to start with Henderson, and now we have even less! No DA will touch this! We got nothing on that bitch. And she knows it.”
Patricia jerked at his high volume. He was right, no one would prosecute on such scant evidence.
“We gotta get one of her girls to talk,” Stewart said. “Reece, we gotta go after Reece.” His cigarettes were back in his breast pocket and Patricia wondered just how long he’d been able to go without lighting up. Given the present circumstances, she thought briefly about asking for one herself.
“I agree,” Ruiz said, a little more calmly. “But if she doesn’t talk, we’re screwed. Forensics found nothing on Bale’s body, nothing that points to Adams.”
The detectives threw out suggestions and ideas while Patricia leafed through some papers until she found the lab reports on Jonathan Bale, their last victim. The autopsy confirmed the GHB and horse tranquilizer they had found present in their other victims. Cause of death was the same. Shot in the head with a 9mm. Ballistics confirmed the bullet came from the same gun as the other two. Four stab wounds to the groin. Most likely done very soon after death, given the lack of blood. Very little trace fiber evidence, most of which could be explained, all except for the one hair.
A single strand of dark hair, which didn’t match Adams or Reece and couldn’t be linked with anyone Bale knew. If she could find the source of the hair, their questions would be answered.
“Okay, what’s our plan?” Ruiz clapped his hands together and held them tight before answering his own question. “We go after Reece, squeeze her and hope something drips out. In the meantime, we’re watching our two other possible victims, pals of Bale.”
Patricia knew he was referring the only two remaining archenemies Elizabeth Adams had threatened: Thomas Rourke and Scott Bartch, both attorneys.
“If the girls go after these guys, they’ll have to be invisible for us not to see them.”
“What about Mac?” Patricia asked softly, silently wishing they would pull her out.
“She stays under. I’ve already spoken with her and she’s willing to remain.” Ruiz concluded their meeting and the detectives rose, eager and excited at the prospect of going after Reece.
*
Erin picked up her cell phone and popped in a freshly charged battery. She hadn’t realized until today that it had been dead. As it sounded back to life, it alerted her that she had a voice message. She put the phone to her ear and listened to Mark’s voice, returning her call. He sounded the same as he always did, concerned but not really caring. He informed her that his meetings in Austin had gone well and he would be back in town sooner than originally expected. But he needed to cover for some colleagues and he didn’t think she would get to see him any time soon.
She deleted the message and set the phone down. She wondered how much of the message was true and how much was bullshit. She never knew anymore. Briefly, she considered calling him back, then decided against it. She didn’t have anything to say to him, and she thought back to why she had called him in the first place.
It was funny how quickly her mind had been occupied with other, bigger things since she had first started this case. Mark seemed so trivial to her now, and it had only been a couple of days since she had found the credit card statement. She was simply numb, shut off like a robot, intently focused on the task at hand. And frankly, she was better off that way. She didn’t need to be dwelling on the mistake her marriage had been.
She sat down and picked up her book, Katherine Chandler’s latest. Erin quickly found herself engrossed in the emotions of the women and the raw desire they felt for one another. Her thoughts strayed to Patricia and how talented she truly was to be able to create such realistic characters. She could only long to be graced by a passion like the one the fictional women shared. Closing her eyes, she wondered who had elicited such feelings in Patricia. Surely she would have to experience such incredible feelings in order to write about them? Perhaps not. Perhaps Patricia was just like her. Lonely, wanting, needing. She opened her eyes, feeling very alive at the thought of Patricia and what it would be like to be wanted and needed by her.