The Edge of Night (27 page)

He sat down on the bed, silent.

Feeling nervous, she went to her desk to turn on some music. She’d found an old record player at the secondhand store, along with a handful of classics. Choosing “In My Room” by the Beach Boys, she put the needle in place and stepped away.

“Is this okay?” she asked, undressing.

He watched her clothes fall to the floor, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Yeah.”

After she stripped down to her bra and panties, he rose and pulled his shirt over his head. At just past sunset, there was still enough light for her to see his finely etched muscles and scripted tattoos.

He stood as still as a shadow, letting her come to him.

She crossed the room, smoothing her hands across his chest, touching the thin silver chain that held his crucifix. As she trailed her fingertips over his torso and down his taut abdomen, she felt his eyes on her body. Her nipples peaked against the soft cups of her bra, and a beat pulsed between her legs.

Groaning, he filled his hands with her mostly bare bottom and lifted her against him, kissing her hungrily. They fell back on the bed together, arms and legs entwined. A few days ago she’d been uncomfortable in this position. Now, when he settled on top of her and his erection nudged the cleft of her sex, she felt only pleasure.

Plumbing the depths of her mouth, he shoved his hand down the back of her panties, squeezing her bottom. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders and arched like a cat, rubbing her breasts against his chest.

Long before she was ready to stop kissing, he tore his mouth from hers, breathing hard. Shifting his weight to the side, he tugged her panties all the way off.

The sensation of being nude from the waist down was strangely arousing. His gaze lingered on her pale belly, her naked hips, the apex of her thighs. Her breasts strained against the confinement of her bra, her nipples tingling for his touch.

She reached behind her, unhooking the clasp. When her breasts tumbled free, he moistened his lips.

“Touch me,” she said, parting her thighs.

He put his hand between her legs, eager to please. Sliding one finger inside, then another, he tested her heat. At the same time, he lowered his mouth to her breasts, swirling his tongue over the puckered tips.

She spread her legs wider, begging him for more.

Lifting his head, he looked from her wet nipples to the juncture of her thighs. “I want to fuck you so bad.”

“Yes,” she panted.

But he continued to touch her, stroking her slippery flesh until she cried out, shuddering with pleasure. When she opened her eyes again, he was watching her face intently, as if he was trying to memorize her expression. While she stared back at him, senses reeling, he took a condom out of his pocket and unbuttoned his fly. Positioning himself over her, he wrapped his hand around the base of his erection and guided it inside.

It hurt. Not as much as her first time but enough to give her pause.

Eric went very still. “Are you okay?”

She felt pinned to the mattress, her heart fluttering madly in her chest. Realizing that she’d tensed up as soon as he entered her, she tried to relax. Unclenching her fists, she lifted her knees higher. “I think so.”

Cursing in Spanish, he drew back a little and slid in again.

The pain receded into a sweet, hot ache. She hooked her legs around his waist and twined her arms around his neck, clinging to him. With each thrust, her body accommodated his more comfortably. “Yes, Eric. Like that.”

With a low groan, he drove deeper, watching her breasts bounce as he plunged into her. She was fascinated by his flexing muscles and lust-dark eyes, his guttural curse words and clenched teeth. His excitement thrilled her. She wondered how it would feel if he took her hard and rough, holding nothing back.

He found his release quickly, and somewhat apologetically, as if he regretted not being able to make it last longer. Gripping her hips in his hands, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and came.

For a few moments, he lay on top of her, sweating. “Hang on a second,” he said, removing himself from her carefully. Hitching his pants up his hips, he walked to the bathroom to dispose of the condom.

Meghan smiled, hugging a pillow to her chest. When he came back into her room, he yanked the pillow away from her and wrestled her down on the bed, kissing every inch of her body while she bucked and squealed.

Breathless, they stretched out side by side. She couldn’t think of a time she’d felt more alive. “I love you,” she said, touching his handsome face.

He grabbed her wrist, lightning-fast. “You can’t.”

She pulled her hand back, her smile fading. “I can, and I do.”

After an, awkward pause, he looked away, shaking his head. “I have to go. Don’t forget to tell your brother what I told you.”

She was stung by his careless attitude, almost speechless. “Are you too much of a coward to tell him yourself?”

Jaw clenched in anger, he rose from the bed, finding his T-shirt on the floor.

“So this didn’t mean anything to you?” she whispered, covering herself with the blanket. “I don’t mean anything to you?”

His T-shirt was inside out, so he righted it. “You were okay.”

She wanted to slap him. “You look like a scared little boy right now, Eric. Afraid to admit your true feelings, afraid to get out of the gang. What are you going to do tonight? What’s so important that you have to run away?”

“I’m not running away—and I’m not a coward.” He pulled his shirt over his head, nodding a curt goodbye. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

“Where’s your necklace?”

He waited a beat too long. “What necklace?”

“Your cross. You never take it off.” She looked around for it, but he was already turning his back to her, walking out the door. Dragging the blanket along with her, she raced after him, checking the bathroom in the hall.

The silver crucifix was there, sitting on the surface of the counter. She picked it up, almost tripping over her own feet as she rushed down the stairs. “You left it here on purpose! Why did you do that?”

He paused, his hand on the doorknob. “Because I might not come back again,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at her. “And I wanted to give you something to remember me by. Now I really do have to go.”

She ran to him, tears filling her eyes. “Where?”

Avoiding her gaze, he refused to answer.

“Don’t do it,” she said, holding the blanket up with one hand, his chain in the other. “Please, Eric. Whatever it is, don’t do it.”

He hesitated another moment, searching for the right words. “I lied to you upstairs. I thought it would be easier to leave you that way, but it isn’t. So the truth is this—you’ve been the best time of my life. And I wish I could be the person you think you love.” He kissed her stunned cheek and walked out the door.

24

Noah had a voice mail waiting for him
when he arrived at the station. The lab director informed him that the samples from the cold-case file he’d been working on had been archived, untested, at the department’s request.

He listened to the message twice, nonplussed. Only a lead investigator could halt testing, usually because a case had closed. Budget issues were always a concern, and DNA analysis was expensive. Maybe someone had decided the cost outweighed the benefit. It was even more likely that a simple miscommunication had occurred. With thousands of samples to process, some orders fell through the cracks.

Noah would have to track down the source of the problem and submit a new request. Making a note to ask Santiago about it, he left his desk.

The cold case would have to wait until Monday morning.

Tonight he was involved in a routine sweep operation. Every few months the gang unit came together in a concentrated effort, combing the streets for documented members. They collected intelligence, visited known hangouts, and made multiple arrests.

Without Patrick, there were five GU officers on the team rather than six, so they had their work cut out for them. Noah was growing accustomed to riding solo and even enjoyed the independence. Although he missed having a partner at his side, he felt more confident in his abilities as a police officer now.

At times, Patrick had been a burden.

The night was really beginning to heat up when Noah got interrupted by dispatch. “Officer Young, I have an urgent request from Meghan that you call home.”

Thankfully, he was on the freeway, not engaged with a suspect. Acknowledging the dispatch operator, he picked up his cell phone and stabbed the home button.

It rang only once.

“Noah?”

His gut clenched at the sound of her voice. She’d been crying. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“Eric.”

“Is he there?”

“No, but he told me something … really bad. I think you should come home.”

Cursing, he glanced into his rearview mirror. He’d passed his exit. “Okay. I’ll try.”

“Is anyone with you right now?”

“No.”

“Not even Patrick?”

“I’m alone in my squad car. Why?”

“Come home. Please. It might have something to do with the recent murders.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes,” he promised, hitting his lights. After notifying his fellow officers of a family emergency, he exited the freeway and headed west toward his neighborhood in Imperial Beach.

Inside the house, Meghan was sitting at the base of the stairs, a blanket wrapped around her slender body. Her eyes were puffy and her shoulders bare.

She had a crucifix cupped in the palm of her hand.

Noah didn’t need any special cop intuition to understand what had happened. Eric had touched his baby sister, after giving his word not to.
“Motherfucker,”
he said, wanting to punch a hole through the wall. “Did he hurt you?”

“No. I’m just … upset.”

He swore again, furious. When he caught up with Eric, he was going to wring his neck. “What information did he give you?”

Tears leaking out her eyes, she began a very disturbing story. With each chilling detail, Noah felt more loathing toward Raul and a renewed empathy for April. Even his anger toward Eric dissipated some. “Did he describe the killer?”

She shook her head. “He was trying to get more information from his friends. He said that Junior put a gun to his head for asking, and that his brother punched him. But a guy named Tony told him the killer might be a patrol officer.”

A cold bead of sweat trickled down his spine. “Tony Castillo?”

“I guess. Eric wasn’t sure about the patrol-officer part. He said Raul was the only one who really knew anything.”

“And he’s dead.”

“Right.”

Noah raked a hand through his hair, his mind racing. There were dozens of patrol officers on the CVPD. San Diego had hundreds. Like Eric, Noah was also skeptical of the source. Tony Castillo had pulled a gun on him two weeks ago.

“He told me the girl’s name,” she continued. “Maggie or Magdalena. Her body was found by a construction crew a few years later but never identified.”

Noah knew with absolute certainty that this girl was the subject of the cold case he’d been studying. Eric seemed to think the murders were related, and maybe he was right. This victim had a plastic bag over her head and a CVL bandanna around her neck.

“Fuck,” he said, considering the implications if the killer really
was
a cop. Maybe the DNA analysis hadn’t been canceled by accident. “Fuck!”

“You’re scaring me,” Meghan sobbed. “I want you to find Eric. I think he’s going to do something dangerous, like get jumped out of the gang.”

Noah had been hitting the streets all night, and he hadn’t heard any news about a jump-out. He had, however, collected some intel about a rumble between Eastside and CVL. Supposedly two top guys from each crew were going to brawl it out. No one had named the participants or mentioned where this fight would take place.

“I’ll look for him,” he said, kneeling before her. “Are you going to be okay?”

She nodded, her face scrunched up. “I love him.”

“Oh, Christ,” he muttered, giving her an awkward hug. This was a disaster. He couldn’t recall Meghan ever saying she was in love before. The fact that she’d fallen for a gang member who was headed for death or jail boggled his mind.

What was so fucking special about Eric Hernandez?

Noah didn’t have time to deal with Meghan’s misplaced affections. He made her promise to stay put and returned to his squad car. After contacting his unit, requesting that they be on the lookout for Eric, he ran a search for the name
Magdalena
in the system.

He got lucky.

There was no recent information, but he found a decade-old arrest report starring Magdalena “Maggie” Chavez. He couldn’t access a full record of the juvenile offense or the accompanying mug shot, but he was able to track down a last known address and next of kin. Her mother, Elvia Chavez, was still listed at the same address.

Noah decided to pay her a visit.

The small house near Castle Park High School was in a sad state of disrepair. The paint was peeling and the yard was dead. It looked abandoned. Noah parked by the curb and approached the front door with caution, his hand on his holster.

He glanced through the torn mesh screen, detecting movement. “Mrs. Chavez?”

A middle-aged woman appeared on the other side.
“Sí.”

“I’d like to speak with you about Magdalena.”

She opened the screen door, letting him in. When his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he realized that she was in her forties, younger than he’d estimated. Her disheveled hair and coarse complexion added years. She had the bleary-eyed, red-nosed look of a wino.

“Have you found my daughter?”

Noah couldn’t answer that. “How long has she been missing?”

“Ten years.”

“Did you file a report?”

“Twice. They said they lost the first one.”

The second must have suffered the same fate, as it wasn’t in the system. “Can you tell me about her?”

The woman frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “She was a good girl, but she ran around with bad boys. Gangbangers.”

He took out his notebook. “Do you remember the names of any of her friends?”

She shook her head sadly.

“When was the last time you saw her?”

Mrs. Chavez walked away from Noah, into a dark living room, and sat down. The space was crammed with broken furniture and random junk. It smelled like dusty carpet and cat urine. Staring off into a corner, she lifted a small glass from the coffee table and drank from it. “Summer of 2000. She was sixteen.”

“Did an officer come to your house when you reported her missing?”

“Two officers came. One of them was quiet, nice. He didn’t talk much. The other told me that kids in gangs were taking over the streets, and there was nothing they could do about it. He said she’d turn up eventually. Shanley, I think he called himself. For all I know, he threw that first report away.”

Noah thanked her for her time, his heart racing from shock. He didn’t mention the cold-case murder, but he left his card, saying he would be in touch.

Outside her house, he took a few deep breaths, wondering what to do next. He felt as if he was stuck in a nightmare. Patrick’s last words came drifting back to him.
You wouldn’t know a perp if he was sitting right in front of you
.

He’d suspected his partner of being a racist, a woman-hater, and a piss-poor police officer, but a murderer?

It was unfathomable.

He put in a call to Santiago, leaving an urgent request to speak with him. He also left a message with April, although he doubted she knew where Eric was.

Trying to remain calm, he considered his options. This was an incredibly sensitive situation. He couldn’t waltz over to Patrick’s house and pop off accusations. Nor could he announce that he was looking for a serial killer/cop over the wire.

He had to find Eric.
Now
.

Picking up his radio, he contacted his unit. “Any word on the Eastside rumble?”

“Yes, actually. Rumor has it that a fight’s going down at Brown Field.”

“Between who?”

“Oscar Reyes and an unknown CVL member. We think it might be the mysterious third passenger from last weekend’s drive-by. As soon as we’re finished with the sweep, we’ll be en route to that location.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Noah said, signing off. Brown Field was a section of land behind the municipal airport. With its dusty hills and intricate back roads, it was an ideal place for a clandestine meeting. Lots of cover, plenty of space.

He could attempt to track Eric’s cell phone, but that brought up some touchy legal issues. Unless Noah could prove that Eric’s life was in danger, accessing his personal information required a court order.

April called him back a moment later. “What’s up?”

“Do you know where Eric is?”

“No.”

“Is he planning to fight someone tonight?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” she said, sighing. “Yesterday three men drove by the house while we were saying goodbye. He told me to go back inside.”

“What did he do?”

“He went right up to the car! They talked for a minute, at the most.”

“Can you describe the car or the men inside?”

“White Monte Carlo, at least ten years old. Mexican guys with shaved heads.”

He made a note of the description. “Is there a special place Eric would meet them? Designated turf for a fight?”

She thought for a second, cursing Eric’s recklessness in two languages. “The only place I can think of is near the southern border of Brown Field. CVL and Eastside used to have
broncas
there, back in the day.”

Noah thanked her for the info. He’d heard about the old-school fistfights, and now he had a more specific area to search. “Go straight home after work,” he said, pulling away from the Chavez residence. “I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”

“Be careful,” she said softly.

“I will.” Although he wanted to say more, it wasn’t the right time, so he ended the call and headed south, toward Brown Field.

Eric traveled east on Otay Mesa Road, slowing as he passed Brown Field.

There was a large, hilly area behind the airport where Raul used to give him boxing lessons. The space was open but secluded, offering endless escape routes via dirt-bike paths and gravel roads. In the past few years it had been claimed by the Otay crew, an upstart gang that both CVL and Eastside looked down on.

They weren’t here tonight.

Not that Eric cared one way or another. If he saw them, he’d just move to a deserted part of the field.

He didn’t expect Oscar to be waiting for him, and he wasn’t. He parked near a flat area that couldn’t be seen from the main road and left his lights on. He’d been too nervous to eat dinner, so he grabbed some beef jerky out of the glove compartment, chewing and swallowing mechanically, chasing it down with a Coke.

Thinking about the fight made him anxious, so he replayed the high points of his afternoon with Meghan. For some reason, his mind kept returning to their stroll on the beach rather than the very satisfying moments he spent on top of her.

“Baboso,”
he called himself, closing his eyes and continuing to picture her face, her smile, the way she said,
I love you
.

An hour later, when someone tapped on his window, he jerked awake with a start.
“Listo, cabrón?”

Eric straightened in his seat. A group of cars were parked in a half circle, front ends pointed toward the flat, open area. With a full moon in the sky, there was no need for headlights to illuminate the space.

He drained the last of his soda and got out.

Oscar was leaning against the hood of a white Monte Carlo, his arm draped around a homegirl. Eric wondered if she’d been inside the house when Junior did the drive-by. She was pretty and slim, too young for her heavy makeup and hard eyes.