Authors: Ronica Black
“I want her released,” she demanded flatly.
“I don’t care what you want.” Ruiz challenged, the shock having passed of his once soft-spoken detective unloading on him. “We’re not done questioning her.”
Erin knew that it was standard procedure to keep a suspect for hours of questioning. It was one of the ways in which they wore them down. But keeping an innocent woman overnight without rest was ridiculous and Ruiz knew it. He just wasn’t ready to let go of the suspect he had invested so much time and money pursuing.
“Well, you may not be finished, but I guarantee you she’s finished with you. You have no grounds to keep her and you know it. She knows it too.”
“It’s not up to you to decide when we are finished with a suspect,” Ruiz said coldly.
“I would agree, with the exception of one tiny little thing.” Erin moved back to the door and yanked it open. “She’s no longer a suspect.” With that, she entered the interview room and faced Liz.
“Ms. Adams, I just came back in to let you know that I’ve finished questioning you.” She heard the door open. Ruiz leaned against the jamb, glaring at her. Ignoring him, she said, “And, well…I wanted to offer you my most sincere thanks for saving my life.”
She extended her hand to Liz, who slowly rose, then took it in her own. They held each other’s eyes for a long moment, and it seemed to Erin that something bright and full of promise hung between them.
“You’re welcome, Detective,” Liz finally said with a sincere smile.
“Perhaps we can meet up at a later time,” Erin offered. “I would love to buy you dinner as a gesture of my appreciation.”
Liz nodded, still holding her gaze. “That sounds nice. I look forward to it.”
Erin smiled back at her and let her hand fall. Her insides immediately screamed at the break in contact. “Until later, then,” she said as she moved to the door.
She could feel Ruiz’s heated stare on her back, but she kept on walking.
*
“So what’s going on?” Stewart found some gum in his top pocket. “Is this circus show over or what?”
“No thanks to Mac, it is,” Ruiz said.
“That’s not true.” Patricia knew her frustration with Ruiz was showing. “If we had done our jobs better, then we might have what we need on Adams or whoever else. But as it stands, we’ve got nothing, and that’s not Mac’s fault.”
Ruiz stared at Adams through the two-way mirror like a man watching the biggest fish he’d ever caught snap the line and swim off. “You were right,” he told Patricia. “That woman is involved. She knows something she’s not telling us, and Mac all but encouraged her to keep it to herself!”
Patricia hesitated, weighing her words. She didn’t know how to explain Erin’s strange behavior, but she knew she needed to downplay it or her friend could very well lose her job.
“I don’t think Mac’s encouraging her,” she said carefully. “I think she’s just overwhelmed right now with her memory returning, with finding out Adams saved her.”
“I don’t care if she’s saved the world!” Ruiz spat a little as the words came out.
“Should I release her?” Patricia asked. “You know if we hold her any longer, she’ll lawyer up.”
Ruiz shook his head in resignation. Patricia could tell he was looking for someone to blame for the outcome of this investigation. He was going to take the easy road like he’d wanted to before. This had to look good on paper. They had a dead shooter and a reasonable theory. He was going to hang this on Kristen Reece and Tracy Walsh and wash his hands of any residual doubt. He would have done so already if the forensic report hadn’t given them a reason to bring Adams in.
Sure enough, with a defeated hand gesture, Ruiz declared, “We’re done here. Cut her loose. This is on Reece and that cop’s crazy kid. Write it up and have the report on my desk tomorrow.”
Patricia caught a look from Gary Jacobs and shrugged. Every detective in the room knew the case was littered with loose ends and unanswered questions. But the killings had stopped. And so long as they didn’t start again, no one was going to care what Elizabeth Adams knew or whether she was behind the killings all along.
“Can I help you?” a female voice called from the front door.
With her heart hammering, Erin thought briefly about just jumping in her car and peeling out of the driveway. But she was too tired to be afraid, too tired to be a coward. Mark was back at the house, something she had insisted on after the attack on his life, and she had to face this.
She stood straighter and looked directly at the pregnant blond woman who had made her way out of the house. Her belly was low and rounded; she was at least six or seven months along. Erin swallowed back the stinging daggers attacking her throat. The deceit still hurt, regardless of her long-dead feelings for Mark.
“I’m here to get my car,” she said.
The woman stopped walking and stared like a deer caught in headlights. Erin stood her ground and watched the woman size her up. Her hand came up and lingered at her chest as if she were slightly perturbed.
“Honey, what’s going on?”
Erin looked past the woman in maternity clothes to see Mark emerge from the house. He was walking slowly, obviously still healing from the knife wounds. When he saw her standing by her car, his face took on a surprised look and he greeted her uneasily.
“Hello, Mark.” She kept her voice level and unemotional. “I just came to get my car.”
“Of course.” He gave his pregnant mistress a comforting pat on the shoulder.
An unbearable silence ensued and Erin thought about asking him how he was feeling, but the pregnant woman was shooting poisonous darts at her with every glance. “Well, I won’t keep you. Looks like you’re doing well,” she said, before climbing into the car.
Digging down between her legs she found the keys, and when she looked back up, Mark and his mistress were gone. Erin laughed a little hysterically. Mark and his pregnant attack dog were welcome to each other. She genuinely hoped he’d be happy. She put the car in reverse, then backed out onto the road and stared at the house she’d so despised.
Where to now?
I could sure use a drink.
*
Erin pulled her BMW into a space near the edge of the parking lot. Night had fallen over the valley, draping it with rich purples and midnight blues that would ultimately darken into the black of night. Leaning back in her seat, she allowed the scent of the nearly new vehicle to fill her insides. The car, like her, had been one of Mark’s perfect representations of the life he wanted everyone to perceive he led.
She focused on reflections off the windshield and decided she would trade the BMW in for something more her. Something a little less showy, maybe an SUV. While she was at it, she needed to find herself a place to live as well. She was ready to shed her former life and start again. She felt much older, suddenly, more herself than ever before.
She looked around at the rows of cars and the cluster of women waiting at the front entrance of the club. She didn’t know how she had ended up here, having driven in sort of a daze. But here she was, worn out, defeated, and unbelievably confused. She had told herself she was going for a drink, so maybe that’s why she was here—simply for a drink.
She closed her eyes, her heart thudding in her chest. Would she see her tonight? Would they talk? The mere thought of Liz stole the breath from her lungs. She inhaled deeply and tried to relax, but it was useless. Sighing, she clenched the steering wheel with white knuckles. She needed a drink and nothing and no one was going to stop her from getting it.
*
“Why would she fake it?” Patricia paced her living room in agitation.
The idea of Erin faking the psychological horror she’d been going through seemed absolutely preposterous, and it infuriated her that Gary would even think she would do such a thing.
“To cover for Adams,” her partner said.
“I don’t buy it. I’ve been living with her. I would have known.”
Gary gave her a telling glance and sipped his drink. His expression said he’d guessed Erin was more than a colleague to her.
“Think about it,” he said. “She acts like she can’t remember, so Adams and whoever else have time to tie up loose ends. And maybe she still didn’t tell us the whole truth today when she conveniently got her memory back. You were there. You saw how they behaved together. Why do you think Ruiz lost his head?”
Patricia scoffed and walked over to the couch to plop down. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and worse than that, she couldn’t make Gary see how ludicrous his suspicions were. She gazed up at the ceiling, feeling overwhelmed and defeated.
“You’re wrong,” she finally said. Her heart pounded madly in her chest and her head hurt from the mental strain.
“Okay. So let’s prove it,” Gary challenged her. “You said she’d phoned with some story about going out for a drink. One guess where she’s headed.”
“What makes you so sure?” She studied Gary suspiciously. He’d been cagey with her over the past week, like he was holding something back. Normally she would have challenged him on this, but she had been too busy obsessing over a woman who would never be hers. Aggravated, she said, “What have you got, Gary? We’re supposed to be partners, remember?”
He held her eyes for a long moment. “I’ve been receiving phone calls from an anonymous female. It seems like she could be a credible source.”
“Don’t tell me…Kristen Reece.” She watched him blink as she said the words.
“You know?”
“Looks like we’ve both been holding out,” she said coolly.
*
Erin slammed the car door shut behind her and headed into the all-women establishment. With her shoulders back and proud, she made her way to the bar.
The soft-butch bartender came immediately to her with a smile. “What can I get you?”
“Kamikaze shooter,” Erin replied over the loud music. “Make it three.”
“Something scary chasing you, darling?” The bartender tried to touch her hand.
Erin pulled back and dug into her pocket for money. “Just give me the drinks.”
“Hey, okay,” the woman said.
Erin looked around somewhat impatiently as she waited. Basement Jaxx slammed seductively into her ears as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the club. The laser and the lights pulsed across the dance floor, matching the rhythm of the music.
“Here you go.” The bartender placed the three shot glasses in front of her in a neat little row.
“Keep the change,” Erin said without looking up. She downed the drinks, one right after the next.
As the alcohol warmed down her chest into her belly, she moved away from the bar and headed for the dance floor. The music called to her and she suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to dance her troubles away. Her heart drumming in time with the beat, she reached up and tugged at the stifling material of her flannel shirt. She had worn it to go pick up her car, and until now, she hadn’t realized just how warm the material was. Feeling suffocated, she peeled the shirt free of her body, not caring about the buttons in the least. Her attention was on the dance floor and she flung the shirt to one side.
The thin white tank top she wore underneath was soaked through with sweat, and the air on her wet skin felt remarkable. She breathed deeply in response to the freeing sensation as she made her way with a purpose to the center of the dance floor. As she began to dance, with her arms held over her head, she closed her eyes and allowed her hungry, lonely soul to be fed by the music.
*
“What!” Liz yelled as the pounding on her door continued.
She pushed herself up off the bed and staggered across her room. She had finally fallen asleep only to be disturbed by the thundering knocks. With her sleepiness quickly giving way to anger, she yanked open the door.
Tyson stood, looking unsure and more than a little frightened as he read the fury written on her face. “Sorry to disturb you, ma’am,” he said.
“What is it, Tyson?” She hoped it didn’t have anything to do with the police. As strong as she prided herself in being, she didn’t think she had any reserve left to deal with them.
“There’s someone here I think you should know about.”
“Jesus,” she let out with frustration. “So who is it this time? Another fat cop? Another goddamned detective?”
She stalked back into her room and filled a glass with Red Bull. Whoever it was, she knew the situation would probably require her presence. Otherwise Tyson wouldn’t have bothered her. She sipped her drink, wishing it would feed her cells some much-needed energy.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said softly. “A detective.”
“Great.” She made her way to the couch, where she sat down and propped up her bare feet.
“I thought you would want to know.”
“Yes, thank you.” She sipped her Red Bull. “So what do they want?”
“I’m not sure, ma’am.” He eyed her sweatpants and wrinkled T-shirt.
“Well, where are they?” She knew she should have gone home. It made no sense to hang around the club when she needed to get some rest.
“On the dance floor. She’s really pushing her way through…” Tyson said with a note of disbelief.