Detached

by Elicia Hyder

  Holy shit. He can see me.

  “Karma, heir,” Essex said, snapping his fingers at the end of the hall.

  Karma leapt over my sleeping body and landed on the floor with a heavy whomp. He stopped in front of me. “Go see Essex,” I whispered softly.

  “Karma!” Essex said again.

  Finally, the dog took off in a trot toward the kitchen, and I ran back to the bed.

  Chapter Nine

  “I’m sorry again about this morning,” Essex apologized for the nine millionth time as we drove to my house about an hour later.

  When I’d returned to my body, Karma had immediately started humping me.

  I smiled. “Don’t be. That was the most action I’ve gotten in a while.”

  “I hear ya. It’s sad my dog has a better sex life than me.” He turned into my complex. “Whose car is that?”

  In front of my garage door was an old green coupe with a slanted bumper covered in stickers. “That would be Bess Lincoln, no relation.”

  At the top landing on the stairs, Bess waved from my front door. Couldn’t miss her. She was wearing a fluorescent tie-dyed hoodie.

  “Your speeder?”

  “Yep.” I opened my door. “You coming in?”

  “Better not. I need to check in at the station.”

  I slid out of the cab. “Do you ever take a real day off?”

  He shrugged. “I love my job.”

  “It shows.” I grabbed Elias’s box off the seat. “Thanks again for last night.”

  “Anytime. You know that.”

  I smiled because I did. Before I could close the door, a chill took my breath.

  Essex must have noticed because he laughed. “You OK?”

  I looked up at the cloudless sky. The sun was beating down, and even though it wasn’t hot, it certainly wasn’t cold enough for the gooseflesh on the back of my neck. “Yeah. I’ll talk to you later.”

  He waved as I closed the door.

  “Perfect timing!” Bess called down from upstairs.

  “Have you been here long?” I passed by her car, which was packed to the roof with boxes, clothes, and god only knows what else.

  “Just got here.” She eyed me head to toe as I walked up the stairs. “Did you just wake up?”

  “Is it that obvious?” I pulled out my keys.

  She leaned against the wall by the door. “I recognize a walk of shame when I see it. Was that your hot boss in the truck?”

  “This isn’t a walk of shame, and the truck isn’t your business.” I opened the door. “What brings you by?”

  “I haven’t heard from you, and I wanted to see how you were doing.” She followed me inside. “How’s the head?”

  “Better. Thanks for asking.” I put my keys on the hook and deposited Elias’s box on the kitchen island.

  The toilet flushed in the master bedroom.

  Bess looked as surprised as me. “I rang the bell. Didn’t think anyone was home.”

  “No one is.” I pulled my gun from my waistband. “Stay here.”

  “By myself? Nuh-uh.”

  “Then stay behind me.”

  She walked on my heels to my bedroom. I pushed the door open and carefully panned corner to corner across the room. Nothing looked amiss. I eased through the doorway, toward the bathroom. All the lights were off. I slid my hand along the wall, inside the door, to flip them on.

  Bess jumped at our reflection in the mirror.

  I peeked around the corner into the separate toilet room. It was empty, but the bowl was still refilling with water. The shower was clear as well.

  “Must be something with the plumbing.”

  Bess gave a melodic sigh. “Oh my god. I thought we were going to die.”

  “Most home invaders don’t break in for the facilities.” I put my gun back in its holster. “What’s with all the stuff in your car?”

  She followed me back to the kitchen. “Oh, I was evicted.”

  I turned. “Shit. Really?”

  “Yeah. I was hoping to get enough tips over the weekend to hold off my landlord, but ya can’t do that without a job, so . . .” She turned her palms up.

  “You got fired?”

  “Yep.”

  “Because you didn’t show up for work the other night?”

  She nodded.

  “Did you tell them what happened?”

  “My boss didn’t believe me.”

  My head snapped back. “Didn’t believe you?”

  Her nose scrunched. “It might not be the first time I’ve called in with a wild excuse.”

  “That sucks. What are you going to do?”

  Her shoulders lifted. “Start the trek back to South Carolina, I guess. I think I’ve got enough gas money to make it.”

  But would her car make it? That was the real question.

  “You’ll move back in with your family?”

  She grimaced. “With my mom until I get back on my feet.”

  I recognized that face. It was the same look I got whenever someone mentioned my mother. “You don’t get along?”

  “Mom’s a train wreck. Lives off the state but could make a career out of marrying shitty men. She’s on husband number four and she has a live-in boyfriend.”

  “The husband doesn’t mind?”

  “They’re separated. Have been for years, but they’re both too cheap to get a divorce. I moved out here to get away from it all. Start fresh and try to break the cycle of dysfunction, you know?”

  I did know.

  She hooked her thumbs in the belt loops of her jeans. “But a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. The only thing worse than returning to Charleston would be hooking to get by, so I’m going home. I just wanted to check to be sure you were all right before I hit the road.”

  “Do you want to leave Nevada?” I heard it. The telltale tone of my voice right before I said something I was going to regret.

  “No, but I’m down to my last hundred options in my wallet, if you catch my drift.”

  I sighed and put my hands on my hips.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Give me ten minutes to shower and change.”

  “What are we doing?” she asked as I walked to my bedroom.

  “We’re going to the Drexler.”

  “Why?”

  “To get your job back.”

  Shredded black jeans. Check.

  Studded belt. Check.

  Leather jacket. Check.

  Bess’s eyes widened when I stepped out of my bedroom. “Whoa. You’re like one set of brass knuckles away from being a modern-day Xena: Warrior Princess.”

  “Thanks.”

  She looked down at her Bob Marley wear. “I am severely underdressed for this ass-kicking mission.”

  “Nobody’s kicking anyone’s ass.” I walked to the foyer, and the overhead light flickered.

  I paused and looked up.

  “Did the power just blink?” Bess asked.

  “I don’t think so.” I also didn’t like it. The feeling of being watched spread through me like kudzu of the brain. Good thing we were leaving. I reached for my keys.

  “Are you driving?” she asked, concerned.

  “Yes.”

  “Is that safe?”

  Safer than her behind the wheel. “No one said I couldn’t. You need to move your car.”

  Bess moved her car across the driveway, and I reversed my blacked-out Jeep Rubicon—the perfect accessory for any ass-kicking mission.

  Hiding behind her trunk, Bess changed into a black Metallica tee from her mobile storage unit, then opened the Jeep’s passenger-side door. “Whoa, this thing is awesome.”

  “I know. Put on your seatbelt.”

  She obeyed as I closed the garage behind us. As I rolled out of the driveway, she leaned forward to read the subtle, almost camoflagued, black decal fixed to the dash. It read: In this Jeep, boys ride bitch. “That’s hilarious.”

  I smiled, pulling past the other condos.

  �
�You do this often?”

  “Do what?” At the exit, I turned onto the street.

  “Go all vigilante ballbuster, righting the wrongs of the American public.”

  “That’s not what this is.”

  “Then what is it?”

  I thought for a second. “Never mind. That’s exactly what this is.”

  She laughed. “Do you do this a lot?”

  “My niece was getting bullied last year, so I showed up looking like I might crack some skulls at her elementary school.” I smiled. “Nobody’s messed with her since.”

  Bess smiled across the car at me. “I really appreciate you doing this.”

  “I haven’t done anything yet, but they shouldn’t have fired you.”

  “My manager’s an asshole.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Clint Mitchell.”

  “I don’t know him.”

  “I guess you would know a lot of people around here, being a cop and all.”

  I lifted a shoulder. “Some. My brother also works at the Drexler.”

  “Who?”

  “Ransom Nyx.”

  “Your brother’s name is Ransom? Did your mother hate him?”

  I grinned. “She kind of hates both of us, actually, but she didn’t name him. Our father did. He works security.”

  “We haven’t met, but it’s a big place, and I haven’t been there long. Have you always lived in Sapphire Lake?”

  “On and off. I lived here when I was little, but I went to grade school in Reno. We moved back when I was twelve.”

  Kindergarten had been hard for Ransom with everyone knowing what our parents had done. So Gran and Paps moved us to Reno, until Ransom got tangled up with some bad friends in middle school. We returned to Sapphire Lake then, and in the years that had passed, we’d mostly been forgotten.

  “I left again when I went into the Army but moved back a few years ago.”

  “Do you like it here?”

  “It’s the prettiest place in the world.”

  “It sure is. The altitude is killer though. I had a headache for the first month I was here, and it’s so dry I should own stock in my moisturizer.”

  “Don’t forget about chapstick.”

  “God, yes.” She counted on her fingers. “I literally have a car chapstick, a nightstand chapstick, a work chapstick, a bathroom chapstick—”

  “And you haven’t even been through winter yet,” I said with a smile.

  “I haven’t really been through winter anywhere. I’m from the South, remember?”

  “Before I get your job back, you might want to reconsider moving. Winters are no joke out here.”

  She leaned toward me. “My mother is no joke. Bring on the damn snow.”

  I chuckled. “I know the feeling.”

  Three news vans were still parked out front when we pulled into the Drexler’s main entrance. And every head near the door turned when I stopped at the valet stand.

  The valet opened my door, and I handed him a twenty. “Keep it up front, please. We won’t be here long.”

  Bess clapped her hands when I met her on the curb. “This is so exciting.”

  “Keep your cool, and let me do the talking.”

  For Bess, I wasn’t sure this was possible.

  When we started for the automatic sliding-glass doors, a flash of movement to my right almost had me reaching for my weapon. Instead, I mom-armed Bess across the chest to stop her as Marianne Clarke with her News 4-branded microphone charged toward us.

  “Officer Nyx!”

  Strike one. I was a corporal.

  “You were among the first on scene Thursday night at the Drexler. What happened inside Ryder Stone’s chalet?” she shouted, shoving the microphone in my face.

  The other reporters swarmed like vultures to a carcass.

  “No comment,” I said, pushing Bess through the door.

  Questions flew from every direction.

  “You were on scene the night of Ryder Stone’s death!”

  “Do you know what killed Ryder Stone?”

  “Aren’t you the officer who was hit by the car on Thursday night?”

  “No comment!” I shouted.

  One of the reporters—male, Hispanic, shockingly tall—realized I was determined to get through. He shielded me as the others crowded in, an unusually selfless move for anyone in the media.

  “Thank you,” I said as I pulled Bess past him.

  Bess kept looking back as I dragged her into the lobby. “Holy shit! That was crazy. You’re a celebrity!”

  “I am not a celebrity. Come on. Where’s your boss?”

  “He could be at any one of the bars.”

  I gestured for her to lead. “Find him.”

  We drew stares from the patrons and staff alike as we wound through the swanky lobby. It was a massive resort, part hotel, part country club. In the third lounge, we passed a giant half-moon bar overlooking the first tee box. Bess grabbed my arm. “That’s him. Brown hair, nine o’clock.”

  I turned left and saw a blonde woman shaking a cocktail. “That’s not a him.”

  Bess counted backward from twelve, drawing an arch with her finger. “Sorry. Ten o’clock.”

  To the blonde’s right was a tall man with slicked-back brown hair, polishing a tumbler.

  “Red suspenders?” I asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Come on.”

  Bess hesitated.

  “Come on,” I said again.

  Her nose scrunched. “I’m not so good with confrontation.”

  “Good. Then you won’t have a problem keeping your mouth shut.” I grabbed the front of her shirt and hauled her forward. She finally fell in step behind me as we walked to the bar.

  When we reached the counter, I balanced a boot on the foot bar and leaned forward. Bess’s former boss smiled and put down the glass he was polishing. “Hello, gorgeous. What can I getcha?”

  I jerked my head toward the balding man to my right. “Do you call him gorgeous?”

  Clint blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. Do you talk to all your customers that way or just the women?”

  “Uhh . . .”

  “Are you Clint Mitchell?”

  “Who’s asking?” His tone had shifted from flirty to defensive. Smart. Before I could answer, his eyes drifted behind me and widened. “You. Didn’t I fire you, Ms. Lincoln?”

  “You did. That’s exactly what I’d like to talk to you about,” I said before she could answer. The bar patrons around us inched closer. “Do you know who I am?”

  He smirked. “Should I?”

  After a pause, a woman two barstools down lifted a jeweled hand. “I think I know.”

  We all looked at her. “I saw your picture on the news. You’re a police officer.”

  “That’s right,” the bald man said. “Weren’t you hit by a car or something?”

  I turned back to Clint in time to see realization dawn on his face. Still staring at him, I smiled. “I was.” I pulled out my badge and slapped it on the countertop, then pointed at the side of my head. “Late Thursday night, I was struck on the roadside while on duty. Do you know why I survived?”

  Guilt washed over Clint like a rain cloud had settled over him.

  I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “Because this woman held me in her lap on the side of the highway.” I pointed at him. “And you fired her for it.”

  The people at the bar gasped and whispered.

  “Gimme a break. It was a crazy story! It’s not like it was the first time she—”

  I cut him off with a wave before he said anything socially incriminating against Bess. “You called her a liar and fired her on the spot.” I really hoped that was true. “Now, because of me and because of you, she’s homeless.”

  “No!” Jewelry Lady, who’d guessed my identity, put down her martini in disgust.

  “Yes.” I leaned my elbows on the counter, immediately retracting them when the left one burned.r />
  A dark-haired waitress, holding a drink tray against her chest, scurried past us. She leaned over the bar and whispered something to Clint.

  His head shot up, and he stretched on his toes to look over his head. “Shit,” he mouthed.

  Jewelry Lady whispered something to the man sitting next to her.

  When I turned, Harlan Drexler was stepping out of an elevator on the far side of the room. He scanned the lobby until his eyes locked on mine.

  Harlan smiled.

  I waved.

  He waved back.

  Clint swore.

  Bess gave a tiny squeal and grabbed my arm.

  I sat on a bar stool. “What kind of beers do you have on tap, Clint?” I patted the stool beside me. “Bess, have a seat.”

  She slid onto the cushion, hiding a giggle behind her hand.

  Clint gripped the bar top. “Please, Officer . . . whoever you are. It was a mistake. Please don’t bring Mr. Drexler into this.”

  “Clint, I’m afraid you brought Mr. Drexler into this.”

  “I’ll do anything. Bess can have her job back. I’ll give her an apron right now.”

  Bess perked up in her seat.

  I shook my head. “Not good enough.”

  He shoved a hand into his pocket. “I’ll even pay her out of my own tips. Just please don’t get me fired.”

  I folded my arms in front of me. “You’re terribly nervous. I’m guessing this won’t be the first complaint Mr. Drexler has heard about you.”

  All the blood drained from Clint’s face.

  “I tell you what, Clint. You give Bess her job back, pay her every cent of her lost wages and tips out of that wad of cash, and give her first pick of the shifts she wants. Do all that, and I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

  Bess leaned toward me. “And I’d like a better parking space.”

  “And a better parking space,” I repeated.

  “Fine. Fine.” Clint started flipping through the roll of cash. “You would’ve made what? Fifty bucks closing the other night?”

  “Try three hundred, on Thursday night and on Friday.”

  “Thursday you were only closing. And you weren’t even scheduled to work yesterday,” he argued.

  “I think that’s a little far past the point, Mr. Mitchell,” she said.