by Rick Murcer
Finally, he broke it. “Listen. You and Manny did your civic duty. Let’s not get jammed up in anymore of this. God knows we’ll have a few things to get caught up on when we get home, okay?”
“Fair enough,” said Dean.
“So let’s change the subject,” said Alex.
“Deal. But let’s not talk about who dressed either one of you men. You both look like something straight out of this ain’t how you do it magazine,” said Sophie.
“Hey. We’re practical. But changing the subject works. When are Manny and Chloe coming down? We can get an early dinner and then go to the casino or something,” said Dean.
“He didn’t say. But it shouldn’t be too long, unless, of course, Chloe has already killed him and stuffed the body down the laundry chute,” said Sophie.
Just then, Alex felt the phone vibrate in his front pocket, telling him he had received a text.
“Speaking of the devil . . . that must be him telling us he and Chloe are on the way down.”
He pulled the phone from his pocket and felt the grimace take over his face.
The text was most assuredly not what he expected. Not even close.
He read it again, just to make sure he was seeing it correctly. He was.
I NEED YOUR HELP. NOW.
CHAPTER-15
Standing on the modest wooden porch of his bungalow, he noticed the afternoon sun was sinking closer to the blue horizon. As it descended, his excitement rose. This would be one of his final acts of obedience and contrition.
Contrition.
It was such an unusual word for his situation, yet nonetheless accurate. After all, did he not hold at least some partial culpability for his circumstances, and hers? If not directly, then by the act of not acting?
If he’d not turned his head and ignored all the obvious signs, he may have staved off the eventual outcome of their separation. So, he was at fault on some level.
Many would disagree. They would say the outcome of his journey was inevitable. His opinion on the subject, however, was the only one that mattered. Thus he walked proudly on this road he had reluctantly, at first, chosen.
He set his glass of wine on the wicker table and bowed his head. He had finished many tasks in his adult life, but this, the two sacrifices to come, would be an achievement worthy of any he’d accomplished. What came next could be even more monumental, but one must take life one step at a time. His training, and she, had taught him that.
He picked up the glass, watching the sun reflect through the wine at just the right angle, causing a tiny prism of light to dance against the white wall. Turning the glass slightly caused the colors to completely disappear. He marveled at the notion that he was able to change the appearance and perception of the sun by a mere twist of his hand. Yet, that was the very essence of his next task, to change acuities with a twist of his hands, was it not?
Smiling, he finished the wine.
A mere twist of his hand.
CHAPTER-16
“What the hell is wrong with ya, man? We’re on holiday here. Is there some part of you that doesn’t get that, for crying out loud?”
Manny sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, his guilt right beside him, watching his wife pace, her face red, her hair flipping around her head each time she turned away from him.
Pissed and beautiful.
Pissed wasn’t the proper term. In fact, he was sure the English language had no word that captured the essence of a woman scorned in a very special, romantic resort in the Caribbean. Perhaps rage or fury or wrath combined into one elicit term would cover it, then again . . .
An Irish woman at that.
On vacation.
She spun away again, and he almost smiled.
Not good, Williams. She’d better not see that smile if he still wanted to enjoy more of his life.
“We leave Ian for a few days . . . and that was tough enough, don’t ya know. But I say to myself, I say, ‘Chloe. It’ll be worth it.” I’ll get to wear bathing suits that will make the other men at that pool think you’re the luckiest man on the damned planet. We’ll get some fine time alone, together. We’ll talk. We’ll laugh, we’ll drink, we’ll dance, and we’ll get naked and have wild, unchecked sex so often that it just might kill a normal man.”
His heart picked up the pace.
Kill a normal man?
She reached over and grabbed his face with both hands. There was no fire like the jade flames leaping from his wife’s eyes. For a solitary, brief moment, he thought he really might be a dead man here.
“But ohhhhh no, you can’t get with the damn program, can ya? Don’t look away from me when I’m talking to you man, got it?”
“Yes, ma’am, I get it.”
“And who said you could talk? I am NOT done. I’m. Just. Not. Finished. With—”
She stared at him as tears formed in her eyes. After a few moments, her face began to soften. A little at first then completely.
He held her hands with his.
“Better?” he asked softly.
“Yeah, maybe.”
She moved closer and kissed him with those startling lips, and he felt his world spin. Her touch was special, but those kisses were the kind that never left his mind.
Those lips were the drug most men sought to ease any pain.
“I love you more than anything, you know that?” he asked.
She searched his face. “I do, Manny. I do.”
“And do you remember in Galway, the night I sang to you?”
More tears.
“No woman could ever forget that. Good God, you rescued me.”
He nodded. “I still think you’ve got the who-rescued-who part turned around. But do you remember what I said about having issues and sometimes you’d hate me?”
“I do. I also remember you said that you’d try,” she said softly.
“This is it, Chloe. This is the best try I have. I can’t imagine a life without you, ever, but I can’t escape the idea of helping to make the world a little safer, a little more secure. The fact that there are people in a great deal of pain, and I can help to ease that pain, is consuming. I . . . I’m sorry.”
She kissed him again and then sat on his lap.
“I know. And it is part of what drew me to you . . . well, that and your fine bum.”
“Thanks. That’s good to know.”
“Listen. I’ll always be jealous of your time and of this damn profession. But I get it, mostly. The Guardian of the Universe has to do what he does, but it doesn’t mean I always have to like it. I’m Irish, so I get angry at things I can’t control.”
“I promise it won’t take long. You heard Munoz. They want us to help with a profile and that’s it.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I wasn’t born yesterday, Williams. That’s it, really? And you promise? We’ve been here five hours, and you’re involved with two investigations. That’s two more cases than bathing suits you’ve seen me in. And now you’re about to involve the whole BAU.”
He sighed and pulled her closer. “I can’t wait to see you in those suits. I’m trying, Chloe. I promise to do my best to be the man you want for a few days.”
“Oh, you fool, you are the man I want. I just want more of you.”
They held each other until the knock on the door said it was time to get back to the real world.
Chloe stood then bent over to pick up the hot-pink bikini that had fallen from the bed, her backside virtually in his face.
He swallowed hard.
She stayed bent over a bit longer than necessary, then stood, smiling.
“There’s plenty more where that came from, whenever you think you can handle not working.”
“Kill a normal man, truly?”
She put her hand on his and raised it to her breast. He felt her strong heart racing with excitement.
“You know what they say about making-up sex, right? You’d be daft not to see exactly what that means,” she whispered.
Standing, he kissed her again, then headed for the door.
After a few steps, he stopped and looked her way. “For the record, I’m dedicated, not daft.”
“Dedicated, huh? We’ll see.”
I must be fricking crazy for agreeing to do this.
He opened the door and watched the rest of the BAU team stream into the room. Barb Downs held Alex’s hand, walking side by side with him wearing a look Manny understood. She was as good at keeping her emotions at bay as anyone, but she was clearly disappointed in his request to assemble. And she hadn’t heard the worst.
But they all knew, didn’t they?
“This better be some kind of I can’t find the rest of my luggage problem, Williams,” said Sophie.
He shook his head. “Nope. That’s not it.”
“All right, you’re having a tough time and need a couple of those little blue pills?” she asked.
“No, not that either, and why is it always about sex?”
“That’s what I keep saying,” said Alex.
“And I keep saying that sex and money, mostly sex, makes the world go around. Look it up,” said Sophie.
Alex shook his head and then smiled. “You know, for once, I’m wishing she was right.”
“Yeah, maybe I do too.”
“So let’s get to it; why are we here? Is it about the missing man, Rathburn?” asked Dean.
Manny started to say “no,” then checked his response.
The two sets of circumstances didn’t look related in any way, but the fact that Rathburn was missing, and Munoz had similar kidnappings before he had bodies, made Dean’s statement relevant. Manny had no proof, only a feeling, but for him that was often enough. He decided to choose his words carefully.
“No. Rathburn wasn’t why we received a visit from a Mexican federal investigator. Inspector Eduardo Munoz has a problem and needs a bit of help.”
“Shit. So he knew we just happened to be vacationing in Cozumel, if you call five hours and fifteen minutes a damn vacation, and figured he’d take advantage of the BAU’s presence?” Sophie’s pretty face scowled like some angry, old-fashioned school teacher.
“That’s about it. He called Josh first, and Josh apparently was going to give us a day, then let us decide if we wanted to spend a few hours helping this man. But the inspector didn’t want to wait.”
“How kind of our boss,” said Sophie.
“Hey. I appreciate that Josh was trying to let us get settled,” said Manny.
“So this Inspector Munoz must be desperate if he couldn’t even wait twelve or fifteen hours,” said Dean.
Manny nodded. “That’s what we thought too.”
“Is he? Is he that desperate?” asked Dean.
“And you just can’t help yourself,” said Sophie.
“Sophie. You know the answer to that,” said Manny.
Glancing at Chloe, Manny turned back to the others. “The Mexican cops have their hands full with all of this cartel crap and have few allocated resources for other crimes, even ones as serious as spree killings,” he said softly.
The room grew quiet as his words wormed into the psyches of each person in the room. He knew his friends. He knew Chloe. He thought he knew himself, but when it came to choices like this, making one was more than knowledge; the decision was almost a moral compulsion for them to help anyone who actually needed it.
“Yeah, Dean. I think he is that desperate,” said Manny.
“Okay, let’s hear it, Manny. What can we do?” asked Sophie, her displeasure with being called to his room apparently fading. Her cop instincts were kicking in.
“Munoz wants a few hours of our time. He has four murders and more people missing in the last four days, counting Aaron Rathburn. He’ll give us full access to all he has, forensic evidence as well, and is asking that we build a profile of the unsub or unsubs. After that, he’s going to leave us alone. He promised.”
“So just a profile, and we can come back to the pool and I can strut my stuff,” said Sophie.
“Oh, you need a pool for that?” asked Alex, rolling his eyes.
“Hey, we might even get your skin to look mildly beige, Dough Boy.”
“We will all be able to strut our stuff and add some serious color,” said Chloe.
Manny sighed. “I can’t ask you all to do what I’m going to do, but with all of you pitching in, we’ll give him a better idea of who this killer might be and where to search.”
It was Alex’s turn to sigh. “Yeah, like we can let you do that alone. You might miss something Dean and I can see in the evidence files. As much as I hate to say it, Sophie might be useful too. Maybe.”
“Damn right. Oh wait. Are you slamming me?”
“No. Just saying.”
“Alex is right,” said Dean.
“Chloe is willing to come along for a few hours too,” said Manny.
He stepped toward Barb. “You are invited too. You’re not a cop, but I’ve seen enough of your insight. You can add something to the discussion.”
Barb’s face lit up then simmered down to a less excited state. “I’d rather be at the pool or shopping, but I came here to be with Alex, so I’m in. I just don’t need to look at any crime-scene pictures.”
“That’s a deal. So I guess we’re all in.”
“Like you thought we wouldn’t be,” said Chloe with a half-smile.
“Hey. It’s still your decision. But I’m glad you’re willing to take a few hours to help,” said Manny.
“When do we do this?” asked Sophie.
He looked at his watch. “Twenty minutes. Munoz will have a van down front.”
“Damn. You really do have us pegged.”
Smiling, Manny took Sophie’s hand. “Profiler, remember?”
She shook him off, but the sparkle was still in her eyes. “No touching me. I’m trying to be pissed. Just so we have this right . . . we do a profile and we’re done, right?”
“That’s right. I told him we’re out of there after that. And if we do our job, he’ll be able to do his.”
Manny’s phone shook, telling him he had a text. He read it and shrugged.
“I guess they’re a bit early. Our chariot awaits. Let’s change and meet in the lobby in ten minutes.”
“Done after that. Is that what you said?” said Alex, moving toward the door.
“I did.”
“Whatever,” said Sophie, following Alex.
The friends filed out of the room, and Manny took Chloe’s hand.
He hoped he could keep his word this time.
CHAPTER-17
Sampson’s huge, black face rose high on the other side of the wide bay window on the front of the house, his deep bark serving as a greeting Jen Williams had heard a thousand times before. Maybe a million. There was a particular comfort on hearing the big dog make a fuss over the Williams family members whenever they returned. She loved knowing that the Big Dog was watching out for them.
She sprung out of the SUV and hurried around to get to little Ian’s car seat before her granny, Haley Rose, beat her to it. She pulled open the door, and Ian broke into one of those grins that melted hearts and took names. She returned that bit of sunshine with a grin of her own and then kissed him out of pure compulsion.
“Hey. You got him out at the mall. It’s my turn,” said Haley Rose, struggling with her seat belt.
“So sad, Granny. You have to be quicker with the seat belt thing. Besides, you never let me hold him when we’re home.”
With that, Jen released the straps and whisked Ian out of his seat, hugging him tightly.
Never did she think that a brother some eighteen years her younger could bring out such a sense of love and protection. She guessed her dad was right about the whole maternal instinct condition and how much she was like her mom in that regard.
She thought she liked that comment from him the best. She missed her mom terribly, even after almost three years, but Haley Rose and Chloe were doing a bang-up job of taking t
hat edge off.
Her thoughts veered to her dad. His love had a wee bit to do with that too. Then along comes Ian and the void was even less.
Louise Williams was never far from her heart, but Jen had learned that life goes on. Her mom wanted her to move on. Her dream had said so.
Ian giggled. She felt his eyes probing her face, then she laughed out loud.
“You’re just the cutest thing on the planet, aren’t you?”
“Well, you got that part right for sure,” said Haley Rose.
She’d exited the front and retrieved the shopping bags from the rear of the SUV, and was now standing very close to both of them.
“Was Chloe this cute?” Jen asked.
“Ahh. Now that’d be a question to consider, but never ask a woman if someone else’s baby was cuter than her own, even a grandbaby as handsome as this one.” Haley Rose winked. “But I’ll say what Ian’s mum would say . . . hell yes.”
Jen shook her head and headed for the mailbox with Ian in her arms. “I’ll see what the mailman brought.”
“Good thought. I’m going in. These shoes are gettin’ a bit heavy. Be careful.”
“Yes granny. Like, what can happen twenty feet from here to there?”
“Nothing, just making sure.”
Then Haley was inside telling Sampson to move his big, black arse and to stay down. Jen heard her swear a second later. Sampson had things under control . . . his way.
Pulling open the box, Jen took out a couple of advertisements and a small package she’d been waiting for.
A blue compact car driving slower than normal passed the front of her home. She peered into the driver’s window and began to wave with her free hand, then stopped. At first, she thought the car belonged to her friend, Stacie Wells. There was more than one car like hers in the neighborhood. But Stacie wasn’t piloting the car.
Someone else entirely sat behind the wheel.
The older man with the long, silver hair grinned and waved a large hand ever so slowly as he rolled by.
She frowned.
His yellow, toothy grin was much closer to creepy than friendly.
