by D. A. Bale
“No, no, no,” Bobby reassured. “I quit.”
Janine’s big eyes grew wider. “But why?”
Lurching to his feet, Bobby began the familiar pacing of a caged tiger – ‘cept this time he seemed more energized and excited than apathetic or pissed-off.
“Don’t you see? God always brings something good out of the bad.”
Janine and I looked at each other. “Still not following you,” I said.
Bobby stopped, his animated hand movements reminding me of his dad’s once Pastor Dennis got wound up during a Sunday sermon.
“I couldn’t go back and serve in children’s ministry. Not after…losing my own,” Bobby admitted with a bob of his Adam’s apple. “But after an inside look at the souls languishing in prison, experiencing the fear and dejection firsthand, one night while in my bunk God thumped me on the head with a new vision.”
Maybe God had thumped Bobby a little too hard.
“Aren’t prison ministries a dime a dozen?” I asked.
“Yes,” Bobby admitted.” But most are simply there to offer up a sermon here and a word there. Those shepherds have no idea what it’s really like eating, sleeping, and trying to mentally survive minute-by-minute in such an environment. They don’t know how to truly reach the heart of a prisoner.”
“And after four nights behind bars, you do?” I challenged.
“It may as well have been four years,” Bobby surmised. “In those four days I learned more about myself. About what Paul and the disciples experienced during the early days of the church, more so than any impact of a sermon. This is it…I know it. It’s what Amy would’ve wanted from all this.”
“That’s powerful,” Janine said, her voice tinged with awe.
Their blue-eyed gazes locked in spiritual wonder. I rolled my eyes. “I hate to be the bad news bearer, but this ministry is a moot cause if the charges aren’t dropped or you aren’t proven innocent of Amy’s death.”
That sat Bobby down. “Have you discovered anything new?”
I nodded. “Zeke thinks there’s some sort of connection between Amy’s death and a case he’s working. I spent all day yesterday with him down in Austin checking out Amy’s birth records.” I pulled the envelope from my purse and handed it to him. “You were right about Amy’s father.”
“What about Amy’s father?” Janine asked.
“It’s probably best you don’t know,” I replied.
With arms crossed over her chest, Janine plopped against the couch arm, offering me her best irritated drama queen stare. Papers scattered across the other couch arm as Bobby dug through the pile until discovering the golden ticket. I knew immediately when he saw the name.
“Jackpot,” he muttered. “I was right. It’s connected to the cartel.”
“What cartel?” Janine asked, interest piqued again.
Someday she’d thank me for keeping her in the dark.
***
Late-afternoon and I had about two hours until I had to be at the bar. That gave me enough time to drop Janine at her car, thank her profusely for giving up her Saturday, then sneak past the super and up the stairs to the room that used to be my apartment. At least the empty shell no longer looked like a tornado had passed by ‘cept for the fine particles clouding the air like high humidity in spring. But I still wondered where I’d sleep that night. Or tomorrow night. Next week anyone?
Mom was still in full sergeant mode, so arguing was as pointless as breathing underwater. I simply grabbed the basket of clean laundry, gave her a kiss, and handed over the apartment key with instructions to let me know when I could return. Then I hightailed it across town to the Ranger Residence Inn to beg for mercy.
Zeke greeted me with a bare chest, bare feet hanging below his lounge pants, and a half-eaten piece of meat works pizza in his hand. The grumble of my stomach protested another skipped meal. My nether regions? Yeah, they were protesting a skipped something too, what with all that manliness on display.
“Early dinner?” I asked.
“Late lunch,” Zeke said and took a bite. “Come to rescue your cat?” He glanced down at the laundry basket at my hip. “Guess not.”
“I might need to impose on your hospitality a little longer,” I begged.
The door swung open wider and Zeke padded into the living room without offering to carry my burden like a chivalrous knight. “I get paid time-and-a-half for cat sitting on weekends,” he called over his shoulder.
So much for chivalry. “Gee, thanks.”
Reentering the devil’s lair, I dropped the basket with a smack on the foyer tiles before joining Zeke at the couch and finding Slinky reclining next to him watching the Texas Rangers whip on the Astros. When Zeke offered up a sliver of ham, I knew my feline had flipped to the opposing side faster than a free-agent in the off season.
I narrowed my eyes at the fur ball. “Traitor.”
“I take it the clean-up at Chateau d’ Vicki remains ongoing?”
“You could say that,” I replied.
“I take it there’s more?” Zeke asked with the arch of a brow.
“More? No, try less.”
“I don’t follow.”
I sighed and plopped down on the couch with the cat ensconced between us. As if expecting me, there was already a second empty plate and bottle of beer with a condensation puddle on my side of the pizza box. A greedy pull went a long way toward quenching my thirst.
“Janine told her mother,” I started, “who told my mother, who then showed up at my apartment.”
Zeke nodded. “Ah, the church ladies food chain.”
“Mom got one look at the place and went into momma bear mode so fast, this cub had to run for her life.”
That got me a chuckle. “So how does that constitute less instead of more?”
“Mom called Reggie, and his team cleared out the place. I’m talking cleared out and cleaned up as if I’d never lived there. Someone else could move in at this point…well, if there were any kitchen cabinets left.”
“A free makeover courtesy of your mom,” Zeke said. “That’s cool.”
“No it’s not,” I whined. “No food. No furniture. Not even a mattress to sleep on. I’ve become a homeless vagrant.”
“You’re not homeless. You and the cat can stay here as long as you need. I’ll even let you sleep on my mattress tonight.”
“Oh huh-uh. I’ll have to find some other way to pay you back.”
“Relax,” Zeke said as he got up and took his plate to the kitchen. “I’ll be gone. You’ll have the whole place to yourself tonight.”
The retort died on my lips. Did Ranger Boy have a girlfriend? If so, he’d failed to mention it when he’d hog-tied me into the little recon trip to Austin. Then there were the kisses in the elevator and the clenching in my hallway. ‘Course I already knew Zeke was the two-timing type, but I’d never imagined being the two-time’er instead of the two-time’ee. Or is that the other way around?
I lurched to my feet. “Does she know I stayed here last night?”
“What? Who?”
“Your girlfriend!”
“Gee Vic,” he said. “Do you really think I’d…?”
“You’ve done it before,” I accused.
Full lips thinned into a firm line. Eyes hardened into dark orbs. “If you must know, I’m conducting a stake-out tonight. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get a few hours of sleep.” He walked past the couch toward the bedroom.
“Zeke, I didn’t mean…”
“The spare key is on the kitchen counter. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
With that, Zeke slammed the bedroom door shut. Sometimes I wished I could do the same thing to my lips. You know, before I said stupid things. Put my foot in my mouth.
Damn disease.
Chapter Nineteen
Saturday evening traffic moved along at a satisfying clip. One thing I love about Texas is that the speed limit is more a suggestio
n than an actual ticketed offense. Out-of-towners are more likely to get a fine for going below the minimum posted speed limit. That’s right – around these parts you better make sure you’ve got enough hitch in your giddyup or you’ll pay for going too slow. ‘Cept during rush hour – you remember, that misnomer I mentioned. At this rate, I’d be way early for certain.
After getting the evil eye from Zeke, I’d wanted nothing more than to get ready for work and skedaddle out of there. The more I thought about our exchange, the more I realized how much my words had hurt the guy. I mean, he had devastated me once before by two-timing me – but that was more than two years ago. Then I went and accused him of using me as a cheatable offense on a non-existent girlfriend now.
It was obvious I hadn’t forgiven Zeke. I was holding onto the past like a druggie to his pipe and needles just waiting for the next fix. Maybe he’d changed – learned from the mistakes he’d made with me. If Bobby and Amy could let go of their pasts, why couldn’t I?
The thought of Amy’s death sent me into deep thought. Because of my big mouth, the police had reopened the case and reclassified it as a murder instead of a suicide. Because of my big mouth, they thought Bobby responsible for his wife’s death. Because of my big mouth, Zeke had dragged me to Austin to discover connections between Amy and a known cartel. What did all of these events have in common?
Besides my big mouth.
I only had an inkling of a clue – but something told me Zeke saw the bigger picture. Something to do with tonight’s stakeout. Bobby still had suspicion hanging over his head – and he’d asked me to help find out who had killed Amy. That meant I needed inside information.
Horns honked, tires squealed, and rubber burned as I slung the Vette across three lanes of traffic to exit before turning around to head back in the direction I’d come. Just like Bobby, I had a new mission.
So much for getting to work early.
***
With the entire gang on tap every Saturday night, I had the delusion I might get away from the bar ahead of schedule. That idea went out the window about the time Bud disappeared a good half hour before closing, about the same time when the night’s hookups made their escape and the crowd thinned. My mood had soured by then anyway.
Since the remainder of the evening’s activities dictated sobriety, I’d held my libations to one measly beer all night. Count ‘em – one. A non-inebriated Vicki made for a boring and cranky Vicki. The music seemed dull. The customers uninteresting. Conversations with my co-workers stilted. Even Grady’s advancements left me cold.
Was this what I had to look forward to in a life without sex?
Please, oh please don’t answer that.
When old Wanker offered the final call and Rochelle and Baby gathered glasses, Grady sidled up and pressed in behind me with a nip at my ear. “Something on your mind, Vic?”
Warm breath didn’t trigger the usual response in my nether regions as I continued rinsing out a tray of dirty beer glasses and loading them in the dishwasher. “Just the usual,” I responded.
“Ah,” Grady replied. “Bud leaving early.”
“No,” I said behind gritted teeth, letting my exasperation show.
“Headache?”
“No.”
“Stomachache?”
“No.”
“That time of the month?”
My elbow to his ribs and a face-full of suds made Grady release me with a spit and a chuckle.
“None of your business, but no,” I responded.
He turned me around to face him, dark eyes growing serious. “I’ve noticed that Nick guy hasn’t been around this week. Did y’all have a fight or somethin’?”
“He’s been out of town.”
A tilt of the mustache. “I’m available.”
I flipped a towel at him with a snap. “Thanks, but I don’t need any further complications right now.”
“Roll reversal time then. The patron usually spills to the bartender, so maybe the bartender needs to spill to the patron this time.”
“But you’re not a patron,” I said. “You’re the proprietor.”
“They both start with p, Miss Smart-Ass,” Grady said, turning around and leaning against the nearby counter for a more direct view. “So tell me what’s on your mind. Does this have something to do with a certain Ranger?”
“A little.” I paused, unsure how much I should reveal. Aw, screw it. “We’ve got a mutual friend who’s been in some trouble. Accused of killing his wife.”
“Is this about that pastor on the news?”
So much for worrying about a great big and mysterious reveal. Never would’ve taken Grady for a newshound, especially with the odd hours we all kept. He probably made heavy use of his DVR to catch the ten o’clock news. Or maybe he was catching the online newsfeeds when he holed up in his office.
I nodded. “Zeke played basketball with him in high school, and Bobby and I…let’s just say we have a long history.”
“Long history as in…”
“As in firmly lodged in the past where it belongs,” I barked.
That got me a smirk that raised his brows. Too bad it didn’t get me a raise in pay though. I really could’ve used the extra cash at this point.
“So this isn’t about getting together with Zeke again?”
“No! Where did you get such an idea?”
Grady shrugged. “I assumed something was percolating between y’all again when he asked ya to go to Austin.”
“Believe me,” I assured. “There’s nothing percolating between the two of us.”
Besides the elevator moment. And the hallway. Last night?
“What was the trip for then?” Grady asked.
“Zeke thinks there’s a tie between Bobby’s wife’s death and a case he’s working on.”
“And he needed your help?”
I could take offense to that little emphasis but decided to let it go and move on. If only I could do the same with the ex. “Rangers investigate only within their mandate, unless there’s a link to an outside case.”
“So how does her death tie to his case?”
“Can’t answer that,” I responded.
“What is his case?” he asked.
“Can’t answer that either.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“I plead the fifth,” I responded.
Very mysterious. Very Bond’esque. Let the man wonder, though I still had no idea exactly what Zeke’s case was all about, which was probably a good thing. Considering the Juarez name connecting a Mexican drug cartel to Amy, I had a high degree of suspicion it pertained to drugs.
Plus this is Texas. What else is new, huh?
I got the onceover before Grady pronounced sentence. “Ya gonna be okay to drive tonight?”
“More than okay,” I said. “I limited myself to one beer tonight.”
“All that religious association having an effect on ya, Vic?”
“Nah, just have something I need to do when I leave is all.”
The joking cast aside and dissipated in the air like the alcohol in a flaming vodka tonic. Grady grew serious again with the set of his jaw and the straightening of his shoulders. “You be careful then.”
A shiver passed up my spine as Grady walked away. I’d never known him to be so serious like that. It was almost as if his military bearing had come back to haunt him.
I shook it off, finished off the night, and walked with the staff to our cars. Grady remained behind in his office. At the bar. Alone.
After pulling into a well-lit twenty-four-hour convenience store parking lot, I dragged my earlier new purchase from underneath the passenger seat. The laptop powered up and glowed in the darkened interior of my car.
One benefit of carrying the Bohanan name? It was pretty well-known in elite stores around the area – even among the tech crowd. Mom had accounts set up across the metroplex, where acceptable members of the household
staff could pick up things for the family and have a bill forwarded at the end of the month. The approved list rarely changed, my mom much more loyal to her staff than the elder Vernets were with theirs. I’d taken a real chance in assuming my parents hadn’t removed my name from said list after moving out. But the balding manager in electronics recognized me and didn’t even bother checking to see if I was still acceptable in their eyes.
One bullet dodged.
Hey, I needed a new computer anyway after mine had been thrashed and trashed during the break-in. No need to wait for my mom to buy the inevitable. The manager had even loaded the tracking software and given me a brief tutorial. I only hoped the device on Zeke’s truck hadn’t fallen off on a back road somewhere. Or that he’d gone out of range.
The program opened and a red dot blinked in rapid succession – stationary, which told me Zeke was onsite at his stakeout. The distance from town said I’d better fill up before leaving the c-store parking lot, if I didn’t want Zeke to have to rescue a stranded damsel in distress later. It’d be best if I could just hide out and watch him watching – supervise him watching? Oh whatever. As long as I hightailed my carcass back to his apartment once I was done watching, Zeke could continue to delude himself into thinking I was unconcerned and unaware of his case. That way I could dodge bullet number two that night.
Along the highway I made good time. Once on a side road, I had to slow down a bit to avoid the occasional roadkill or pothole. But my poor baby car was not prepared for rutted and washed-out dirt roads. Dust swirled in my wake. Rocks pinged the paint job. The undercarriage intermittently dragged. I cringed every time like Janine used to do when a singer would screech a high note in church or be slightly off-key. Personally, I never could tell the difference. Guess you have to be a true musician to hear it. And be bothered by it.
But I digress.
If not for the tracking device, I’d have missed the barely discernable turnoff. Trees and brush choked what looked like little more than an old cattle trail. After skidding to a stop, I backed up and pulled my baby in close to the trees behind Zeke’s truck and another vehicle, trying not to add any scratches to my already suffering exterior. The nails-on-the-chalkboard screech told me I hadn’t succeeded.
Crickets chirped as I snuck down the trail, keeping close to the trees until walking through the remnants of Charlotte’s web. In panty-piddling fear, I lurched from the trees, tripped on a rock, and tumbled into a dust and leaf-encrusted rut before grabbing my twisted ankle.
