Krysta's Curse (11 page)

“Why would Dad lie?”

He sighed, running his fingers through a
thinning hairline. “To protect you, I guess.” Digging into his back
pocket, he pulled out his wallet. “Look, here’s a picture of you
and her when you were still in diapers.”

My jaw dropped as he handed me the picture.
An olive-skinned woman with crazy curls held a frizzy-haired baby
on her hip. They both had big brown eyes. The same wide smiles.

My dad lied.

A torrent of warm tears slid down my cheeks
and I didn’t even care about my makeup.

“She looks just like me.” I tried to control
my quavering lower lip as I spoke.

“She was a beauty.” Garza seemed to choke on
his last word and took a moment to clear his throat. A single tear
slipped down his face before he continued. “Adela had beautiful
eyes, beautiful hair.”

“Adela?” I didn’t understand why, but saying
my mother’s name out loud brought a chill to my spine.

Shivering, I rubbed my bare arms.

This whole moment felt so surreal. I’d had a
different mom. A
real
mom. Maybe...she even loved me.

“She was my partner. My best friend.” His
voice broke again and then he plastered on a smile. “She loved you
so much.”

“She did?”

His gaze drifted off to somewhere beyond my
shoulder. “You were her world. You two were so much alike.” Garza
laughed, before his brow set in a deep frown. “I remember the time
she took you to Puerto Rico for your abuelo’s funeral.”

“My abuelo?”

“Your grandpa. She had just laid you down
for a nap when she heard you laughing. She went into your room and
she said you and your grandpa were playing peek-a-boo.” Garza’s
cloudy gaze sharpened and he looked at me with smiling eyes. “You
were laughing so hard that the whole family came into the room. You
and Adela were the only two who saw him.”

A tremor of excitement shot to my toes. “She
saw him, too?”

Garza nodded. “That’s how we solved most of
our homicide cases. She spoke to the victims.” His voice took on a
more eager tone. “Adela was the best detective on the squad.” Then
his eyes darkened and his features contorted into one massive
frown. “Maybe too good.”

“What do you mean?” I already sensed his
meaning as I swallowed the lump of bile that rose up in my
throat.

His gaze dropped to the ground and he picked
up a twig, stabbing holes into the dirt. “We were assigned a
multiple-homicide. A suspected drug cartel. She knew too much. I
think they murdered her.”

My poor mom. How could anyone do this to
her? To me?

A torrent of feelings ranging from sorrow to
hurt to rage infused my skull.

I had never wished anyone dead before but I
wanted whoever murdered my mom to pay. “What did you do to
them?”

Dropping the stick, he leveled me with
blood- shot eyes. “They never caught the guys. I was pulled from
the case.”

“They
killed
her and you didn’t do anything about
it!” Jumping to my feet, I practically screamed. A white hot heat
shot through my torso and I clenched my fists, fighting back the
urge to strike Garza.

I’d never been so angry in my life. My mom
was murdered and what was anyone doing about it? What if she’d gone
to a dark place? I shuddered at the thought.

Standing, Garza threw up his hands. “I have
a family, too, Krysta. There was nothing me or your dad could
do.”

“My dad?”

“He was a detective.” Garza nodded. “He had
to quit to keep you safe.”

“Oh-mi-god,” I breathed.

Wrapping my arms around my torso, I slid
back down to the rock. My entire world was spinning.

No wonder he worked as a security guard all
night and drank all day. My dad went from being a homicide
detective to a minimum-wage rent-a-cop—all to keep me safe.

He must have really resented me.

That would explain why he had countless
women at the apartment but paid no attention to me. That person
he’d called my ‘mom’, she was just a surrogate to fill a void for
my real mother.

Still frowning, Garza folded his arms across
his chest. “I’m sorry I had to be the one to tell you all
this.”

I had no response. Life as I knew it would
never be the same. The woman who could have brought love and
comfort to my life was dead, my dad was a bitter drunk, and the
drug lords who murdered my mom were free.

Butt numbing, I sulked on that sandy rock by
the beach, barely noticing the cop who had sat down beside me. My
tear-soaked eyes had adjusted to the darkness. It could have been
daylight outside for all I cared. Nothing really mattered at this
point.

My life sucked.

“Krysta, I need a favor.”

The pleading in Garza’s voice drew me out of
my trance.

Looking at him, I saw the deep lines etched
around his eyes looked darker than before.

“What?” I asked, not trying to mask the
annoyance in my voice.

He needed a favor. The man who did
nothing
after my mom was murdered.

“You and Bryon are the only witnesses in
Sunny’s case.” Standing, he shook the sand from his jeans. “Her
boyfriend is trying to back out of his confession, but you know he
did it.”

“Yeah, he did it. Sunny told me.”

“Raymond was wearing gloves when he murdered
her. Where did he hide them?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged while struggling
to my knees.

My legs felt so wobbly, but I had to get out
of here and back home before Mrs. Dawson caught me. Besides, I’d
had enough reality for one night.

“Could you ask Sunny?” Garza held out his
hand.

I looked at his outstretched fingers. Was
this some kind of peace offering? An apology for not doing all he
could for my mother? Or was he just being nice so I’d make solving
his case easier?

“She’s not talking much.”

I took his hand, but only because my body
had weakened so much over the past few minutes. I didn’t understand
this sudden fatigue. Maybe it was stress, but I just wanted to
crawl into bed and cry myself to sleep.

“Could you please try?” he asked softly
while leveling me with a direct gaze. “We need to make this murder
stick. I don’t want to see him walk.”

I didn’t either. Not Raymond. Not any
murderer. “Okay,” I sighed. “I’ll ask her.”

“Krysta!” A familiar shrill cry echoed from
behind me. “Are you trying to turn all my hair gray?” “I’m sorry.”
My shoulders fell as I turned to face Mrs. Dawson.

“Officer Garza. What are
you
doing here?” Mrs. Dawson
hissed and her feral glare reminded me of a wild animal protecting
her offspring.

Garza threw up his hands. “Just looking for
clues.”

“Clues?” Her eyes narrowed to slits, before
she turned her suspicious gaze on me. “Krysta, what’s going on?

I exhaled slowly. This was going to be a
long night. “He wants me to talk to Sunny for him.”

She gasped, both hands flying to her mouth.
“You told him?”

“No.” I shook my head. “He knew my mom. I
guess she spoke to ghosts, too.”

“Officer!” She nodded toward me, but her
fiery gaze was locked on him. “Are you really going to drag this
child through a murder case?”

“Just one clue.” He held both palms out in a
sign of mock surrender. “That’s all I need.”

She groaned, then swore—a word I’d never
thought Mrs. Dawson would ever use. She marched toward me until we
were separated by only a few inches. Pointing a finger in my face,
she groaned again. “You know, I’m going to have to speak to your
father about this.”

“Please don’t tell my dad,” I whined.

He didn’t need one more reason to resent
me.

“I’m sorry.” Her face hardened. “I can’t
keep this secret.”

I closed my eyes, hoping to chase away
another torrent of tears, but it was no use as they slipped from
beneath my eyelids.

Opening my eyes again, I wiped my face with
the backs of my hands. I tried to give her my most heartfelt,
pleading, puppy-dog expression. “He’s got enough on his mind.”

“I know he does, Krysta,” her voice softened
and she pulled me into a tight hug.

That hug was just enough to send me over the
top and I melted into a pile of heaping sobs in her arms.

It felt good to be hugged, and for a moment,
I pretended Mrs. Dawson was Adela.

My real mom who loved me.

Pulling me from her, Mrs. Dawson ended the
embrace all too soon and stared down at me with glossy blue eyes.
“I’m sorry, dear. If you’re going to be looking for clues in a
murder case, your father has a right to know.”

“You are not
to speak to the police again. Understood?”

Uggghhh.

I had been dreading this conversation the
entire trip back from the lake, but I didn’t think it would happen
so soon. I thought Dad would show up tomorrow or the next day, in
between work and visits from his girlfriends, which was why I could
hardly believe he was waiting for me in Mrs. Dawson’s driveway.

That he
actually
took off work to come here. Like
my dad really cared what I did.

Now we were arguing in his rust-bucket car
because he refused to go into AJ’s house.

“Don’t you want to see Sunny’s killer go to
jail?” I spat while folding my arms across my chest. I was in no
mood to argue. I was tired and a spring in my dad’s crappy car seat
was poking my butt.

“I don’t give a damn about her,” he growled
while clenching the steering wheel. Then his voice dropped to
barely a whisper. “I only care about you.”

“Yeah, right,” I laughed while rolling my
eyes.

He was acting way out of character and I
didn’t like it. Where was the drunk who only wanted me out of his
hair? This new dad was weirding me out.

“Krysta.” He grimaced, squeezing the
steering wheel so tight that veins popped out of his neck. “Don’t
start with me on that.” Letting go of the steering wheel, he
pointed a finger at me. “And another thing, if I ever hear about
you biking to the lake in the middle of the night again, you’ll be
grounded for life.”

“How would you do that?” I shrugged. “You’re
never around to ground me.”

“That’s enough. Buckle up!” He pounded the
steering wheel with both fists.

I jumped at his sudden show of force, but I
wasn’t deterred. Dad had never hit me, but maybe that was because
he was too busy ignoring me. “So I get to come home now?”

“Yes.” He spoke through a clenched jaw while
starting the ignition.

“I still have to get my stuff from AJ’s
bedroom.”

“Well, hurry up,” he snapped.

Reluctantly, I fumbled for the handle on the
door. I didn’t want to go into AJ’s house and have him drive off.
Some part of me didn’t trust my dad to wait around and I still had
questions for him.

“We’re not done.” I let go of the handle
while forcing my gaze level with his. A slight tremor was rattling
my insides. I wasn’t afraid of him. I just wasn’t used to
talking—
really
talking with him.

But this issue had been weighing on my mind
all the way home from the lake and was too important to
dismiss.

His brow furrowed, as he rubbed the stubble
on his chin. “What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about my mom?” I
spoke through a voice fraught with emotion. Even the mention of
Adela and I turned into a big pile of self- pitying goo.

Dad slouched in his seat, moaning into his
palms. “Garza told you?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, unable to say more.

Sitting upright, he pulled his hands from
his face. The lines around Dad’s eyes appeared deeper as he turned
to me with a stern glare. “Now’s not the time for this.”

I threw up my hands, determined not to let
him brush me off. “When is a good time, Dad? When am I not a major
inconvenience to your life?”

“You’re not an inconvenience to me, Krysta.
I just never planned for our lives to go this way.” He lifted his
gaze to the ceiling. “You have no idea how hard it is for a
single
father to raise a teenage girl.”

By the way he emphasized the word ‘single’,
I knew what he was implying. He hadn’t expected Mom to die and
leave him with all the work. One thing he failed to realize was
that he wasn’t doing all the work. His neglect had forced me to be
a self- sufficient teenager. “You’re not raising me, Dad. I’ve been
raising myself.”

“I’m sorry.” He sighed while running a hand
through his messy, coarse hair. “I haven’t been the best
father.”

I rolled my eyes while laughing under my
breath. “Major understatement.”

“You’re not going to make this easy, are
you?” Dad smiled, though his eyes appeared glossy.

He didn’t smell like alcohol tonight. Either
he was trying to play the not-drunk-father and had disguised his
breath or he was actually ready to cry.

My heart ached a little, but my brain
refused to show him any pity. Why should I when he was never around
when
I
needed him?

“I don’t do drugs. I don’t sneak out with
guys. I get good grades—none of it thanks to you,” I growled, angry
with him for his neglect in the past and pissed at him for waiting
until now to show me any fatherly feelings.

“I know.” He nodded, his voice sounding
choked, before he turned from me and stared out the side
window.

So this was my big confrontation with my
dad? Him agreeing that he’s been a major butthead?

I kind of felt deflated, and for a moment, I
had forgotten why we were arguing in the first place.

Adela.

“Why didn’t you tell me I had a different
mom?” I spoke through clenched teeth. “One who spoke to the
dead.”

All these years I grew up thinking I was a
freak. If I had known I had a mom who was just like me, I would
have felt so much better.

Dad jerked, turning to me with glare. “Why
was Garza telling you this?”