Juan couldn’t deny that. “It did.” He shrugged.
“Did?” Curiosity rang in the one-word question. “Not anymore?”
“I don’t know. Aren’t you the expert here? Supposed to explain this stuff to me?”
The silence that filled the space made Juan regret his question. Murdock tapped his fingers on the desk. “It’s normal, you know.”
“What’s normal?”
“Experiencing setbacks. You feed off the anger, the need for revenge, for so long. Now that you are trying to move on, even making progress, it’s normal to question if letting it go is what’s right.”
He wanted to call bullshit on Murdock’s therapy-speech, but it rang of truth. Hadn’t Juan chosen the new case with Guzman ties to rekindle that anger he’d tried to leave behind?
“Do you still play the video of your wife?”
Why had he told Murdock about that?
“Some,” Juan said, hoping the answer would end this conversation more quickly.
“Do you still dream about her?”
Another thing Juan regretted telling Murdock. But you couldn’t come in here once a month for over a year and not give anything.
“Not as much.” It killed him, too. As hard as it was to wake up reaching for her soft body across the bed, he longed for those seconds when he didn’t know she was gone.
Murdock studied him as if Juan were a frog he was about to dissect. “You’ve had so much to work through in your life, between the issue with your parents, and—”
“Stop. Stop right there. That happened almost twenty years ago. Leave it in the past. I have.” Hell, he figured Murdock knew about the murder-suicide that had left him orphaned at fifteen. The city dug up stuff on your ass when they hired you. But it was history, had never affected his work, and was none of their damn business.
“Okay.” The doctor hesitated as if trying to find a new way to torture him. “Your black eye and busted lip, is that your temper coming out again?”
“No.”
“How’d you get them?”
Juan considered his answer, then decided to throw the man a curveball—the truth. “I got beat up by a woman.”
Murdock’s posture hardened. “I can’t help you if you aren’t honest with me.”
“It’s not a lie,” Juan said.
“And why would a woman beat you up?”
“She thought I was breaking into her house. But I’d actually run off the guy who was.”
“Okay.” Murdock believed him. The fact that the shrink could read him so well made Juan frown. “Are you getting out more like I suggested?”
“I still do poker with the guys a couple times a month, and I work.”
“How often do you work cases out in the field? It seems you’re always here in the office, chasing leads on the Internet.”
“I’m good at it. Besides, I do the legwork when I have to.” Sure, if he had a choice, he’d stay in, save the world from having to see his scar. Save himself from being reminded he deserved them.
“Have you started exercising yet?”
“I’m running some. I’m thinking of joining a gym.” His voice tightened. He hated having to answer to anyone.
“You said that last month.” Murdock’s tone held only slight accusation, but it was enough to touch a few of Juan’s nerves.
“I said I’m going to.” He ran four fingers over his cheek.
Murdock leaned in a bit. “Does the scar bother you?”
“It bothers others.” Juan shifted in the chair, feeling more and more uncomfortable.
“You know, you can’t control how people react, but you can control how you react to their reaction.” Murdock’s expression showed empathy, his tone concern. “If you accept it, other people will, too. Do you turn away when people look at you? The more you’re aware of it, the more they’ll be.”
“I told you I’ve accepted it.” The tension in Juan’s shoulders leaked into his voice.
Murdock nodded. “Acceptance brings change. Or sometimes change brings acceptance. Just go through the motions of enjoying life. Get out more. You might find yourself actually living again.”
“I’m fine.” Juan sat back in the chair, his jaw locked.
“Are you? Aren’t you lonely, Juan? Don’t you feel the need for companionship?”
“No.” And until last night, until he’d met his neighbor, it wouldn’t have been a lie.
* * *
Vicki, feeling like a stretched rubber band about to snap, got home and went straight to the backyard. Sweetie yapped next door. She ignored her. The necklace was here somewhere, and she was going to find it.
Tears threatened as Vicki dropped to her knees where she and her neighbor had fought. Not having anyone to put on Bell’s emergency contact list had gut-punched her. Sure, she’d known she was a one-man band raising a child, but today, staring at the paper made it real.
What if something happened to her? Who’d take care of Bell?
Vicki had walked away from everyone she knew. She hadn’t even told Misty, her best friend, she was leaving.
Dan was another matter. She’d felt she owed him an explanation. She’d called him only twice since she’d left. Once when she’d arrived in Phoenix and once, two weeks ago, when she got to Texas. The last call had ended too quickly. That hurt. She suspected he had company. Someone who’d taken her place.
She couldn’t blame him. She didn’t. But it brought home a cold, hard reality.
Even the person she’d once held closest, counted on the most, was gone. Not that the relationship would have lasted. Raising her niece would have come between them. Like her, Dan was a career-minded person. He chose not to have a family so he could pursue his passions.
Breathing in, hoping to dislodge the mass of ugly emotion in her chest, Vicki stood and walked the entire area where she and her neighbor had struggled. Up. Down. Over. Where was the necklace? Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she checked the time. She needed to leave for work.
As she turned back to her house, something brushed up against her leg. She looked down at the white poodle. “You must be Sweetie. How did you get over here?”
The dog stood on her hind legs and danced. She looked like a little stuffed animal in need of a haircut. No wonder Bell was smitten.
Yet as adorable as the canine was, Vicki frowned. “I don’t suppose you’ll just go back the way you came, huh?”
The dog continued dancing, begging to be held.
“Great. Now what?” Was her neighbor at home or did he leave the dog out all day? The thought of seeing him again after…after what?
Why was it that the moment they’d shared together at the fence felt more embarrassing than the struggle they’d had? Why had his offer to help her look for the necklace felt like something more than just him being neighborly? Why had she let herself forget for even one second that he was a police officer and she didn’t trust the police?
Remembering the time, she scooped up the animal, turning her head to keep from being doggy-French-kissed. She hurried through her house and grabbed her purse and keys, hoping to drop off the poodle and then go teach a Pilates class.
* * *
Juan had gotten home from his shrink visit intent on going to the gym. He’d dressed in his workout clothes, psyched himself up to go sweat, to face the stares from those who found his scar disturbing. Instead, he’d let Sweetie out, sat down at the table, and started reading his latest case file. He studied the image of Abby Noel, the pretty blond-haired, blue-eyed mother of one. Only twenty-four at the time.
What were the chances of her being alive after going missing five years ago? Especially when her boyfriend, Cheng Liu, a drug dealer with Columbian ties, had been found murdered the same day she disappeared.
It was believed Liu had been trying to get Guzman to drop his California drug supplier and work with Liu’s Colombian ties. Rumor said Guzman’s supplier had ordered a hit on Liu for infringing on his business.
The
objective behind Juan’s yearlong undercover work hadn’t been to get just Guzman, but also the California supplier. An objective Juan had failed to accomplish. One that had become insignificant to him after Angie and his daughter had been murdered.
Juan’s gaze drifted back to the picture. Abby Noel deserved justice. Finding the body, finding her killer, would do that.
Today, Connor was taking a trip down to the prison to talk to some thugs who’d been part of Guzman’s gang at the time of Liu’s murder. Since the detectives believed Abby’s disappearance was tied to her boyfriend’s murder, looking into that case might help this one.
Mark, his other partner, was talking to all possible witnesses at the grocery store where Abby Noel’s abandoned car had been found. Then he was going to drop in on Noel’s parents. If Mark wasn’t successful connecting with the Noels, Juan would have to go there this evening. Just like he’d told Murdock, when he had to go out to do his job, he did.
Juan looked back at the file. He read the report about Cindy Bates, Abby Noel’s best friend and the last person to have seen her alive. Bates had worked with Noel at the Black Diamond, a gentleman’s club, and said she’d been with Noel all night. If he wanted to get to the bottom of this, Juan needed more details. Luckily, the officer writing the report had noted Bates’s phone number.
Juan grabbed his cell and dialed. A recording stated that the number was no longer in service.
Flipping the page, he studied Noel’s phone records. The woman’s cell and purse had been found in her car. Her last call, at two a.m., had been to the number he’d just dialed.
If Noel had been with her best friend all night, why was she calling Bates’s phone at two in the morning? How the hell had the detective missed this? He checked to see who’d done the interview. It’d been a different detective from who was leading the case but still inexcusable.
Either way, Cindy Bates had lied. Yup, he needed to find her.
He grabbed his laptop and typed in her name. His search engine was offering up some links when his doorbell rang. He’d lived here a year, but this was probably only the third time anyone had come to his door. Certain it was some solicitor selling magazines, he ignored it.
A knock followed—a rather insistent knock. Seriously? If he had to run someone off his porch, he wasn’t going to be happy. And neither would they.
Then he heard a bark. He bolted up. One quick glance out the back window told him Sweetie wasn’t in his yard. He rushed to the door.
Without even looking out the peephole, he yanked it open. His breath caught. Wearing workout clothes that clung to her curves and a frown that clung to her lips, Nikki Hanson held out Sweetie.
“I’m assuming she belongs to you.”
Feeling his scar pull across his cheek from his scowl, he turned his head away and tamed his expression. “Uh, yes. I just let her out in the backyard.” He took the animal from her hands. The brief contact of their fingers caused a spark of something sweet and unwanted that shot right to his gut. And if the startled look on her face was any indication, he wasn’t the only one who’d felt it burn.
She took a quick step back. “Well, she must have found a way into my yard.”
“Sorry, I’ll fix it.”
She went to turn away, but he spoke up again. “Thank you.”
She offered a slight nod and swung left to leave.
“Nikki?” Her name slipped off his lips before he knew what he wanted to say.
She turned around. Their eyes met. Held.
“Last night, you said…you knew who you thought sent me, as if…as if you knew who might be out to hurt you.”
She shook her head, a little too hard. A little too fast. Her hair, hanging a couple of inches below her chin, flowed around her heart-shaped face. And damn if he didn’t note how pretty that face was. A small, slightly turned-up nose. Full lips, almond-shaped eyes that were brown or perhaps dark hazel. And suddenly, he needed to know which. Brown or hazel. He took a step outside his door. Then another. He lifted his gaze. Hazel. They were hazel.
She took a step back. “No. I meant…I thought you were trying to steal something.”
She glanced down. A sure sign of a lie.
He should drop it. Let her walk away. It was what he wanted, what she wanted, but…“It seemed like more.”
“No.” She took another step back, as if his question had crowded her.
“Nikki, if you’re afraid of something, I could—”
“I said it’s nothing.” This time she left, hotfooting it to her Toyota Camry. He stood there petting Sweetie and watched her climb into her car. Watched as her Colorado license plate, not Arizona, disappeared down the street.
Yup. She was hiding something.
Chapter Four
Vicki finished teaching her Pilates class, then hurried to pick up Bell. She got there early and waited at the front door of the school—all smiles and good times. A happy face for Bell when deep down Vicki felt none of it.
The school preferred parents use the pickup line in the parking lot, but she’d told Bell she’d be waiting here. If she wasn’t right where she said she’d be, Bell might panic. After losing her mother, Bell had a few abandonment issues. Hell, after losing her sister, Vicki had a few abandonment issues herself.
The door swept open and a flurry of excited and noisy kids rushed out with their teacher. Vicki prayed Bell would emerge happier than when she’d dropped her off.
She saw Bell grinning, and the heavy feeling in her chest rose. If this was all she accomplished in life, keeping her niece happy and safe, it’d be enough.
Bell’s big brown eyes found Vicki’s and she came running, dragging another girl by the hand.
“Mom,” Bell said, with only a slight hesitation. “This is Suzie. My new friend.”
Vicki knelt down. “Hi, Suzie.”
The girl grinned, and then screamed, “Daddy!” at the same time a shadow fell over Vicki. She stood up.
“I missed you, Daddy.” Suzie, all arms and legs, leaped up in her father’s arms.
“Missed you, too.” He kissed his daughter’s brow, but his gaze found Vicki.
“Hi,” the man said. “I’m Cal Phillips.”
“I’m Bell’s mom. Nikki Hanson.”
Suzie touched her father’s face. “Can Bell come over and play sometime, Daddy? Please, please, please!”
“Can I?” Bell chimed in.
No way was Vicki sending Bell to a stranger’s house. “Maybe Suzie can come see us sometime.”
“That’d be good,” the man said. “Suzie and I just moved here over the summer. It’d be nice if we could get the kids together.”
“Yeah.” Vicki’s smile lessened, wondering if his “Suzie and I” comment was an “I’m divorced” hint. He lowered his daughter to the ground and Vicki saw his gaze shift to her left hand.
“Well, we should run,” Vicki said.
“Nice meeting you,” Cal replied.
“See you Monday,” Suzie called out to Bell and the father-and-daughter pair, holding hands, walked away.
“So, good day?” Vicki asked Bell. But the girl wasn’t listening. She stood silent in the after-school buzz, watching Suzie and her dad.
Kneeling down, Vicki smiled. “Don’t I get a hug?”
Bell wrapped her arms around Vicki and hung on a second longer and tighter than normal. When the child let go, Vicki stood with tears in her eyes and took her niece’s small hand. “So, good day, right?”
“The first part was sad, but then I met Suzie. She was sad, too, but we both got happy.”
“I’m glad you made a friend.” Vicki started walking to the car.
“Did you make friends?” Bell asked.
“Yeah, I met a lot of nice people at the gym.” But friends? No. Getting close to people could be dangerous. Joanne had even warned her about it. And just like that, Vicki recalled the second part of that warning: Steer clear of the police. While AWACO attempted to stay within the boundaries of the law, t
hey often skirted into the gray areas, like creating new identities to help keep women safe.
She needed to remember that when dealing with her neighbor.
“Can Suzie come over sometime?” Bell asked.
“Sure.” The desire to remind Bell that she couldn’t tell anyone their secrets hit, but she put it on hold, not wanting to spoil the child’s mood. “You ready for ice cream?”
Ten minutes later, they sat at an ice cream shop where Bell asked for two scoops of rainbow sherbet and Vicki indulged in one scoop of chocolate. Bell talked nonstop about Suzie, about a boy in class who stuck his tongue out at her, and about her teacher being surprised Bell could read.
After a few minutes, Bell stared down at her ice cream and her smile faded a notch. “Why are some daddies good and some bad?”
The sweet taste of chocolate on Vicki’s tongue turned bitter. “Daddies are just men. Some men are good and some…aren’t.”
“Like dogs?” Bell asked.
“Huh?” Vicki asked.
“Men are like dogs. Some are nice and some aren’t.”
Vicki held back her smile, but answered, “Yeah, men are kind of like dogs.”
* * *
Juan looked up from the computer screen when Mark returned from doing some legwork on the Noel case.
“Get anything?” Juan asked.
“Nothing, but I managed not to get beaten up,” Mark answered with a smirk.
His two partners’ eyes met and then they both looked at him with shit-eating grins.
“Give it up, would you?” Juan said.
“We just don’t get it.” Connor chuckled. “Billy said she wasn’t even five feet tall.”
“I told you, the asshole breaking into the house threw a grill at me. I had soot in my eyes.” And she fought like a ninja and she was taller than five feet. Mentally he measured her up. Five four, maybe. He envisioned her face and the surprise in her eyes when their hands had touched this morning. Then he recalled her back-off expression when he’d asked about being afraid of someone.
He almost confided in his partners about his suspicions, but considering his proof was only an offhand remark and the name drop of Phoenix, he didn’t have much. Well, other than his gut.
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