would never leave the garage open like that. Something was wrong. My throat tightened with terror. If there was an intruder in my house, they'd better be prepared to meet their maker.
I pulled my Smith and Wesson nine millimeter from the holster at my waist, and laid it on my right thigh. Slowing my vehicle to a crawl, I fished my cell phone out of my purse and punched the numbers 9-1-1—although I didn't hit the button to connect the call. My plan was to drive by the house as if I didn't live there, and take a look at what was going on. I slowed my car even more, taking my foot off the gas and the brake. I let the car idle its way down the street.
All of a sudden, I saw the base of our ladder swing toward the interior wall of the garage. Was it a burglar, using our own ladder to access one of our second story windows? The person carrying the ladder moved to place the rigging on the hooks where it belonged. Travis. He carried the ladder and was putting it away.
I exhaled in relief. What would he be doing with a ladder at this time of night? Even more troubling was the fact my husband walked around the garage, potentially in full view of the neighbors, in his boxer shorts.
Making an abrupt turn into the driveway, I dimmed my vehicle headlights to the parking lights, a reflex of my years as a street cop. Whatever was going on, I knew I wasn't going to like it.
I pulled my sports car next to his truck, and quickly turned off the engine and got out. "What's going on?" The look on my husband's face reminded me of catching a bad guy red-handed. You could see the wheels spinning to make up some story. What on earth has he done now? I re-holstered my gun. "What are you doing with a ladder so late at night?"
My husband stared through me while he thought. If I didn't know better, I'd wonder if he was on PCP. He had that same kind of blank 'dusted' look.
"Damn it, Travis! What the hell's going on?"
"Let's go inside," he said, turning away from me and heading toward the door leading into the house.
Silently, I closed the garage door and followed him inside. I leaned against the kitchen counter while he padded over to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. Twisting the top off, he took a long swig. He collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs and set the amber bottle on the table. "Maddie, I'm all screwed up. You're not gonna believe what happened to me tonight."
The defeat in his voice made me walk over and sit in the chair next to him. As he explained his delusion of gunfire, and subsequent search of the house, I went to the fridge and poured myself a glass of wine. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"So, at first, I just sat here in the dark in case some of the neighbors heard the shot and called the cops. I didn't want anyone coming to our door asking any questions." He took another pull on his beer, almost finishing the bottle. "After a while, I realized no one in the neighborhood was awake but me, so I thought I should repair the damage as quickly as possible. I got the ladder and some spackle. Ten minutes later, you'd never know anything happened. I'd just finished the repair when you drove up."
"Do you remember having a bad dream? I mean, before when you've had nightmares, you've woken up screaming and yelling, but…" My voice trailed off. I didn't know what to say. This was bad. Really bad.
"I went and saw the department shrink today. We talked a lot about what happened to Dave."
He must have seen a reaction in my face.
"Don't worry, we didn't talk about…anything else."
"Well, if this is the result we get from going to BSS, I'm not sure they know what they're doing." It was a crappy thing to say, but Travis's chat with the shrink was making me nervous that my own issues might be brought to light.
"No, Maddie, the doctor was nice, and I did feel better after I left. I got stuck in a shit-load of traffic and didn't lose my cool once."
"Well, that may have been great during rush hour, but now I'm feeling like I need my body armor to sleep in."
Travis shook his head. "No, obviously I'm not in a frame of mind to have firearms around me while I sleep. I've already locked my weapons in the gun safe in the garage." He stood and looked at me. "But I think you need to keep a gun on your nightstand; not only for my peace of mind, but yours as well. One of us has to be prepared if someone breaks in. And if I was sleep-walking you'd wake up long before I ever got close to your gun."
I knew he was trying to make feel more secure; instead, it was exactly the wrong thing to say. But Travis's well-being was more important than my battle with my own demons. I'd learned to push down my anger and fears. He was still struggling with his. I swallowed my anger as well as my fear and walked to my husband and put my arms around him.
PILAR – 66
In the kitchen of her small apartment, Pilar, nude, stood and used the tip of her acrylic nail to dial a number on one of her pre-paid, disposable cell phones.
"Yeah, who's this?"
"It's me, and we've got trouble."
"Don't say anything else. Give me your number and I'll call you right back."
Pilar recited the number of her cheap phone and wordlessly disconnected. Obviously, her conspirator didn't want to talk on his main line. He'd be calling on a throwaway phone himself. Within seconds, soft chimes indicated a call. She answered, but said nothing.
"Well, Madam Mayor, what's got your panties all in a twist at this time of night?"
"I'll tell you what. They've found Heather McCall!" There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. "Really? Do you know how that happened?"
"No, you jackass! I was hoping you could tell me."
"Respect, Madam Mayor, respect."
"I'll give you respect when you deserve it. This wasn't supposed to happen. You assured me you knew how to handle something like this."
There was an edge to the man's voice. "There's no need to panic. Just because they found the body doesn't mean they'll learn anything more. I know where she was dumped. Trust me, the investigation will be minimal."
"This better not blow up in my face or I'll take you down with me."
In the receiver, she heard the slightest intake of breath. "Listen, you self-centered princess, I've got way too much to lose to let one unfortunate discovery topple my empire. I worked my ass way too hard to let some favor destroy everything I've got. It's not wise to threaten me, and it's not wise to disrespect me. Most people who are that stupid don't get a second chance to do it again."
"Well, you aren't the only one with something to lose," she hissed. "That favor I did for you cost me plenty. How in the hell did this happen? You assured me McCall wouldn't be found, and yet less than a week after she disappeared, her body turns up."
"You need to calm down. There's no way either of us can be connected to McCall's disappearance or the body. Stay with the plan, and don't panic." There was a significant pause on the line. "Oh, and Pilar…don't call me anymore."
TRAVIS – 67
In bed, in the dark, Travis listened to Maddie getting ready for work. He almost stirred so she'd realize he was awake, but he didn't want to break the spell of the caring she'd shown last night. For the first time in over a year, she'd actually lain next to him with her soft breasts pressing into his back, her hips leaning into his. She'd draped one arm over his, and tucked her face into the back of his neck, sleeping in that position until her alarm sounded. If he dropped dead today, he'd go to God happy his wife had finally touched him again of her own accord.
The light scent of her perfume reached his nose while she tiptoed out of the bedroom. He inhaled deeply. He remembered the good times when Maddie always smelled of flowers and their marriage was solid. Before the incident, they'd touched, kissed, and made love without a thought or care in the world.
Lying between the cool, rumpled sheets, he watched the hint of dawn cut a purplish sliver around the edge of the window shade. Watching the day emerge, he craved a new beginning too—something they both desperately needed.
Wanting to demonstrate a fresh start, Travis got himself up right after Maddie left and went to a local home improve
ment store to purchase new paint for the bedroom. They'd painted their bedroom about a year earlier, but neither Maddie nor Travis was happy with the results. For months, they'd been contemplating making a change, and now the time seemed right; especially with a bullet hole in the ceiling.
He'd just set the new cans of paint on the bedroom floor, when the phone rang. It was the receptionist from Doctor Steven's office. "Officer Divine, Doctor Stevens asked me to call to see if you're available for another appointment today. She had a cancellation and hoped you might continue today."
Travis wasn't sure how to respond. Yesterday's session had purged a lot of the strain. But he wasn't sure what else they needed to talk about. He sure as hell wasn't going to tell her about firing his gun while asleep, and he'd already spilled his guts about Dave's killing. He'd told her everything. Well, almost everything. "Um, isn't this kind of soon?" he asked.
"It's not unusual when the client makes good progress to meet with the doctor again." The woman's voice was professional, but persuasive. "Can you come in at two this afternoon?"
He ran his hand through his hair. He didn't have any place else to go, but Travis didn't like being pressured. On the other hand, he wanted to get back to work. His absence left the S.W.A.T. team down a man. "Okay, I'll be there."
"Great. I'll tell Doctor Stevens."
PRESTON – 68
The next morning, subdued
A Deadly Blessing Page 30
