Authors: Ronica Black
August
Baja Peninsula, Mexico
“
Chicle
, señorita?” a young boy asked, a huge grin on his face.
Liz eyed the large cardboard box of Chiclets chewing gum he carried in front of him with both hands. “Sure.” She reached in her khaki cargo shorts with her good arm and pulled out a neat stack of bills.
The boy immediately dug in the box and pulled out two packs of the small gum. He held them out for her and wiped the sweat from his brow. The large box was held secure by a thick piece of string slung around his neck. His Scooby-Doo T-shirt was torn at the collar and his brown pants were two sizes too big, made evident by the giant rolled-up cuffs. She looked down at his bare feet.
“
Es un
quarter,” he said with his thick accent.
Liz pushed the gum in his hand away, causing him to look up. She leafed out a fifty dollar bill and handed it to him.
“Gracias, señorita, gracias!” He lifted the string holding the box up over his neck, trying to give her the entire box of gum.
“No, you keep it.” She placed her hand on the box, gently resisting. She met his large eyes and smiled at him before walking away.
The boy shouted his thanks after her and she wove her way between people as she continued on her quest through the tiny beachside town.
Tourists walked and talked, stopping to browse at the various vendors selling hand-woven blankets, trinkets, and T-shirts. Many dressed similar to her in tank tops, cargo shorts, and sandals. She could smell their suntan lotion as she maneuvered past them, brushing against their fanny packs.
Up ahead, she spotted her destination. Pablo’s Fish Tacos stood directly in front of her, and she slowed her pace as she approached the window of the small building.
“
Hola
, help you?” a middle-aged man with silver capped front teeth asked from the window.
The smell of fish was strong and she pulled off her sunglasses as she ordered, trying to peer into the shady building where the man stood. “
Una cerveza, por favor
.” Her Spanish was barely mediocre, but it always got her by.
“Corona?” He held up a wet, icy bottle.
“Tecate,
por favor
,” she clarified.
He quickly pulled out another bottle, opened it for her, and slid it across the counter. She leafed out a five dollar bill and handed it to the man, not expecting change. She picked up her beer and wished she had some lime.
“You really should try the shrimp.”
Liz turned at the sound of a familiar voice behind her and made her way over to a woman sitting at a table with a bucket full of fresh shrimp on ice. She sat down across from her, placing the sunglasses over her sensitive eyes.
“Help yourself.” The woman, Shane Wilson, pushed the bucket toward her and continued to shell and peel the shrimp before popping them in her mouth. The private detective was bigger than Liz, bulky with muscle mass. Liz had known her for years, hiring her on many different occasions.
“No thanks, not hungry.” Liz eyed her and crossed an ankle over her knee.
“Mmm, your loss.” Wilson licked her fingers. “How’s the shoulder?”
Liz took a long tug from her beer, thankful for its iciness. Her shoulder was healing nicely and she no longer had to wear the sling. But she winced as she set the beer down with her injured arm, the dull pain making itself known. She relaxed her face and refused to let it win, using the sore arm every chance she got.
“Fine.” She answered in the tone that let everyone who valued peace know the topic was closed. Just because she wasn’t on her home turf didn’t mean the rules had changed. She was still a very private person when it came to her personal life.
“Yeah, well, you look like shit. You’ve lost weight, you’re pale—”
“If I wanted your opinion, I would’ve asked for it.”
“Sorry.” Wilson opened her palms in a peaceful gesture. “It’s just, you know that I care and I always sort of hoped that someday maybe you and I…” She leaned across the table and tried to cup her hand over Liz’s.
Liz kept her hand out of reach. “Yeah, well, it’s not happening.”
Wilson sighed and sat back in her chair. Liz figured she was mentally chiding herself for blowing her only chance. She had miscalculated with Liz, assuming by her pale and thin appearance that she was somehow now more fragile and maybe even…vulnerable. But she now knew better. Liz might have looked weaker than Wilson had ever seen her look, but she was still strong and still unavailable.
“Why don’t you tell me what you came here to say, what I’m
paying
you to say,” Liz demanded, weary of the chitchat.
Wilson rested her elbows on the table, her muscles lined up on her arms and popping out on her shoulders like perfectly shaped pieces of meat resting under the skin. “I found Jay.” She fingered her dark beer bottle, peeling at its yellow label.
“Where?” Liz sat back in her chair and pulled her sunglasses off, her eyes never leaving the other woman’s. The wind blew in off the nearby sea, rattling the umbrella over their table.
“Where you said she would be.”
“Is she…okay?”
“Seems to be.”
Liz let out a long, shaky breath and stared past Wilson to focus on the sea. Relief started to wash through her but she wouldn’t let it, not yet.
“Anything else?” she asked.
“Yeah.” Wilson lifted up her beer bottle and drained it. “No one’s looking for her.”
Liz sat in silence for a moment, not sure she had heard correctly. “The police—”
“No one’s looking for her,” the muscled woman interrupted. “No one but you.”
This time relief burst through the gates and Liz allowed a grateful grin to etch her face.
Wilson sat back and folded her arms over her ample chest, apparently reading this reaction as an opportunity. “So, how about dinner then? To celebrate?” Liz tugged another sip of her beer and rose from the table. She reached in her pocket and tossed the stack of bills at Wilson.
“I’ve got a plane to catch.” She walked quickly away from the table and back into the crowd of tourists. She pulled out her satellite phone and dialed.
“Yeah, it’s Liz,” she said into the phone. “Book me on the first flight to Alabama.”
She ended the call and continued walking back toward her Jeep Wrangler. She had been traveling through Mexico for a few weeks now, and she was relieved at the thought of finally leaving. Even if it meant returning to her childhood home in the Deep South.
Wilson’s words replayed in her mind as she climbed into the Jeep.
No one’s looking
for her.
No one was looking for Jay. Not even the police. No one.
She steered her way back out onto the main road. As she drove toward her rented seaside house, the salty ocean breeze ran through her hair, massaging and relaxing, and her thoughts drifted to Erin McKenzie.
She hadn’t told about Jay.
Liz thought back to the last time she had seen her. Raw betrayal cramped her stomach once again as she remembered Jay telling her the truth about Erin, the truth about the woman who had somehow reached into her chest and squeezed the life back into her heart. She was a cop, and not only a cop, but an undercover cop pretending to be attracted to her in order to gain information.
It had all been lies. All of it. The feelings, the emotions, the sex. Liz cringed at the thought and hated herself for allowing Erin in.
She made a turn off the main road and onto the dirt road that led to the private beach house. As the Jeep kicked up dirt and fought the road, she wondered if her sister was indeed okay and she wondered the same about Erin. Regardless of the lies and betrayal, she couldn’t bring herself to stop thinking of her. Her green eyes sparkling with life, the smile Liz had worked so hard to see, the way that beautiful body had responded to her touch. Could it really have been all lies?
And she hadn’t told the police about Jay. What did that mean? Was it a setup? Maybe blackmail? Or was it something else altogether?
She skidded the Jeep to a stop in front of the beach house and climbed out to go pack her travel bag. She didn’t have any answers to the questions plaguing her mind. From Jay and her killing spree to Erin and her mysterious behavior, there were so many questions to be answered, so many doors left wide open and unexplored. There was only one thing she was sure of.
The time had come to find out.
Valle Luna, Arizona
“How are you, Henderson?”
Patricia entered her sergeant’s office slowly and sat down in the chair across from his desk. It had been weeks since the shooting, but its toll was evident in her shadowed eyes and pale, drawn face. She knew how she looked. Sleep had evaded her, allowing guilt to eat away at her, reminding her every second of her failure. She had been beaten on her own turf, in her own home, leaving Erin all alone to fight the demons that had come knocking. They were both extremely lucky to have survived, no thanks to her. Patricia cringed at the thought and raised a weak hand to her temple, unconsciously fingering the location of the throbbing in her head. Her tired eyes met her sergeant’s and she shifted slightly, realizing he was patiently awaiting her answer.
“I’m fine, sir,” she lied, clearing her throat to allow her voice to sound stronger than she felt.
“How’s the head?”
Patricia’s hand quickly lowered from her temple. “Much better.” She offered him a soft smile, determined to hide the frequency of her headaches.
“Glad to hear it.” He shifted in his chair and sat up a little straighter as he fumbled through the numerous files on his desk. “First things first. You should know we’re ready to wrap up the Adams case.”
“What!” Her body grew rigid and her head swam with heavy and blurry thoughts. It was a mistake. It had to be. She had merely heard wrong. “We haven’t found Adams yet, sir.”
Ruiz’s face remained stoic. “We don’t need to,” he stated flatly. “Walsh fits the bill. She was confused and obsessed and easily controlled by Reece. We have all the evidence we need.”
Patricia swallowed with difficulty at her sergeant’s demeanor. Her heartbeat thumped into her ears as she eased herself back into her chair.
What are they
thinking? Are they crazy?
Yes that was it. It wasn’t her going crazy. It was them. They only needed a little reminding.
“What about Adams?” Her voice was high and agitated, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t care. “She gets off scot-free?”
No way. Not after all this. Not after what Adams had done to her. A sharp pain shot through her. Adams had done something to Erin as well.
“All the evidence points to Reece and Walsh,” Ruiz explained. “We don’t have anything on Adams. As bad as we want her, we’ve got nothing, and her alibis panned out.”
While his tone of voice sounded apologetic, it only fed her fury. How could he be sorry? He wasn’t sorry. He wanted it closed. They all did. Nobody cared about how bad Adams really was. Nobody but her.
Patricia clenched her fists at her side as her blood rushed through her veins. “She’s involved!” Her voice was deep and loud, laced heavily with anger. “You know it as well as I do.” She held his gaze, challenging him. She no longer cared that he was her superior. She was right in this and she knew at once what needed to be done. She would have to do things herself. “Give me another week, I’ll find her and—”
“Can’t do it,” Ruiz interrupted, holding up a palm, not willing to wait for her to continue. “The department wants it closed. I have my orders.”
“But there has to be some way to get her.” She rested her hands on his desk, leaning toward him.
“I’m sorry, Henderson, it’s not going to happen.”
Patricia closed her mouth and clenched her jaw. Her blood pounded furiously in her ears. She couldn’t believe what she was being told. Adams was going to slither through their fingers and get away with murder. Wasn’t that the story of that bitch’s life? The thought made as her as sick as it did angry. She would be damned if she was just going to let it go.
Ruiz got busy shifting papers, making it clear the subject was closed. “There’s something else I need to discuss with you,” he said.
Patricia stood very still, her mind racing, her anger flaming like kerosene, burning and raging through her. She knew there was still some forensic evidence to be examined and she wondered if it all had been processed and she just hadn’t been told. The collected evidence had been her last hope of a direct connection to Adams. It must have led nowhere. That’s why they were closing the case.
“Go on,” she demanded, unable to sit still. Her body was on alert, alive with fear, anger, and the desire for vengeance.
“I asked to meet with you regarding Detective McKenzie.” He fingered though more files and then, finding the correct one, leaned back once again and mindlessly flipped through it.
Patricia’s body hummed as she thought of the younger detective. Erin hadn’t been herself lately and Patricia felt greatly responsible. It was her fault Erin had to go through what she did. Alone. Patricia’s heart cried out. She had feelings for Erin that went well beyond protectiveness. Feelings that she could no longer bury or deny.