Fables & Felonies

by Nellie K Neves

  “I know,” she said. “I know.”

  Ryder’s final words rang in my mind. You can break with me. I’ll fix you every time. How I longed for it to be true one more time.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Uncle Shane and I kept our secret the rest of the day. It wasn’t until after turkey and mashed potatoes, when my family had retired to their separate corners to sleep off the tryptophan, that Shane brought out his laptop.

  “I got access to some of our digital mug shots. I gave our tech guy the parameters, and he’s narrowed it down. There’s still well over a hundred here, but maybe you’ll find the guy from the club.”

  I sat down and began clicking. Hundreds didn’t even begin to estimate the volume I was looking at. Thousands might have been closer, but even then it was like asking me to climb Everest in a day.

  Eleanor woke up an hour and a half into it, and pulled up a chair. “What are we looking at?”

  “Bad guys,” I said. “Specifically some from that club we went to.”

  That didn’t sit well with my uncle.

  “You took Elle on recon?”

  “Oh, come on,” Eleanor whined. “I’m not a baby.”

  I ignored both their antics and pressed on. “Help me look. Did you see the guys by the arch?”

  She tilted her head back and forth like a seesaw. “Kinda. I was busy after all.” She smirked, and I couldn’t help but laugh at the memory of the mess she’d made. Uncle Shane’s hands went up as if he couldn’t take another moment dealing with the two of us.

  I clicked the mouse again and my breath sucked out of me in a gasp. It was him. Uncle Shane was at my side in an instant. “His name is Juan Balcazar. Hold on, I’ll have Jordan run his priors.”

  In his absence, I took a moment to study the face of the man who filled me with dread. He wore his facial hair different in the mug shot; now he had long chops, cut at the center before it spread into a short goatee that framed in his thin lips. He was heavier now, the picture must have been taken before he had added fifty pounds of muscle weight. In the picture his face was slender, more definition between the jaw and the neck, but in my memory, his neck blended into his jaw, thick and overgrown. I might have doubted it was the same man, but the eyes, the eyes stared through the screen as if he could see me. My finger hovered over the mouse button, ready to click, ready to break the connection in case he was tracking me like I was tracking him.

  “He’s scary,” Eleanor whispered as she stared at the mug shot. “It looks a little different, but those eyes, I remember those.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “He keeps calling me zorra. I don’t know what it means, but I know it can’t be good.”

  “It’s not,” my sister clarified. Dad’s football game flashed on in the background, somehow comforting as I stared at my enemy. It grounded me while my mind ran through horrible possibilities. “Zorra means fox in Spanish.”

  I’d forgotten that Eleanor was nearly fluent in Spanish after a summer building houses with a service group in Mexico.

  “That’s not so bad.”

  “It’s slang,” she explained further. “He’s calling you,” she blushed and stuttered over the words, “it’s something you can say to insult a woman, like calling her a woman of easy standards.”

  “He’s calling me a prostitute?”

  Her mouth twisted, as she considered the word. “Yes, but worse and not nearly so formal.”

  “I’ve got his priors,” Uncle Shane said as he returned, “and it doesn’t look good.” His notepad slapped hard against the table. My body tensed, and they both shot me a look. It wasn’t like me to be jumpy, I knew that, but the whole situation had me on edge.

  “Juan Balcazar, age thirty-nine, brother to Javier Balacazar, owner of Club Feugo. Juan was arrested ten years ago for assault and battery, took a plea and had it reduced to misdemeanor, served one year. He was picked up six months after release, charged with rape, served five years of his nine-year sentence. A year later he was charged with possession, should have gotten more time from the amount of drugs he had, but somehow got out on probation.” Uncle Shane’s frustration bled through his words. “This doesn’t include the times that he’s been a suspect. I count five rapes, eight battery cases, and at least a half dozen drug charges he’s managed to avoid, most of this in the last two years.” His jaw pulled tight, staring at his notes, lost in thought as only a detective could be.

  “What are you thinking?”

  Uncle Shane tried to soften the words, but in a situation like this, he couldn’t.

  “This guy has friends, connected friends, not just the gang banger types. To get away from this many charges, someone has to drop paperwork, lose or contaminate evidence. I would wager he’s got a cop on his payroll, maybe more than one.”

  “But is he cartel?”

  “Well,” Uncle Shane started, “Jordan is an old friend who works in LA. He specializes in organized crime and while this guy lit up his screen, no, he’s not cartel.” Before I could breathe out my relief, Uncle Shane continued. “But it sounds like the brothers are trying to build up their own network here in the States, something big enough to catch the eye of the existing organization. It’s only a matter of time before he is.”

  “Well, everybody’s gotta have a dream,” Eleanor joked, but it wasn’t funny. She couldn’t even manage a weak laugh.

  My voice was small, defeated, scared to come out of my mouth. “It’s almost worse than I thought. He wants to make a name for himself.”

  “He’s been linked to murders as well, Lindy. Nothing stuck. Seen near the crime, car used in the crime, guns, it’s all bad news. Tell me when you want me to stop.”

  “Two weeks ago,” I whispered. “Now I think it might be too late.”

  “You can’t give up, Lindy. We’ll find a way to get him.”

  With Shane leaving in the morning, and Elle leaving soon after, somehow I doubted it.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  I was up long past the rest of my family. Dad had lit a fire in the fireplace earlier, and I was happy to watch it burn. The allure mesmerized me. Maybe the dance of the twisting spindles of flame, maybe the way it devoured anything I set in its reach with no trace, as if it had never existed. Could I do that? Could I vanish without a trace, without loved ones there to mourn me? If I ran, would they all survive?

  I heard footsteps, and my entire body went rigid.

  “Whatcha doing up, Slugger?”

  Even after I recognized his voice, I couldn’t relax. Was this how Hallie had felt?

  “I can’t sleep,” I said without taking my eyes from the flame.

  The cushion compressed next to me, rocking my balance as he sat. “Why do you think that is? You’ve never been scared of the shadows before.” I didn’t answer him, so he took a moment to find his own answer.

  “I figure,” he stared into the flames as if he could read my thoughts there, “you never had much to lose.”

  “Sure I have,” I said. “My family, my sisters. This is different.”

  “It is different,” he agreed, “because of Ryder. For the first time you’ve found someone you can’t live without, and that’s why you’re scared.”

  “The idea that they would link me to him is crazy.” The words came easy. I’d been telling myself that same sentence for at least an hour.

  “You’re probably right.” He had a way about him, a tone he used when he agreed with me, but planned to contradict me all in the same sentence. “But you’re not worried about them killing Ryder. For years you’ve risked your own life to keep your loved ones safe. It’s what you do. That’s why this is different. For the first time, you’re worried about them killing you.”

  He was right. I knew that Ryder could move on past me. If I was killed, he could manage. Yes it would be hard, but eventually he would make it. But me? I didn’t want to die without that chance to be his once and for all. And yet with my limited future because of my disease, where did that leave us? What was I offering him?


  “Maybe it would be better if—”

  “Not possible,” Uncle Shane interrupted. “As the guy who has seen him more in the last two weeks than you, I can tell you he doesn’t fare well without you. You’re better together, so buck up, wrap this up, and come back home.”

  “What about the memories? About keeping me away from him?”

  “Nothing is working,” Shane whispered. “The memories are there, latent beneath the surface, but Ryder won’t let them out, or at least his brain won’t. Maybe we were wrong to send you away. You need to come home.”

  My heart sped at the thought of home. Still, the destination was distant, not just in miles, but in effort.

  “And all this? How do I resolve all this?”

  His laugh was short and sarcastic. “If only we had an organization that handled crime and put the bad guys away. I mean, what would we even call that? The police, maybe?”

  “That attitude is not helpful, Uncle Shane.” My sigh felt heavy with the past couple weeks. “I’m worried Ranger is dirty.”

  It was the first time I was willing to say it out loud. It had nagged at the back of my mind since I’d found the file at the bottom of the stack.

  “So turn him in. Trust me, Internal Affairs would love to have a chat with him.”

  “It’s not that easy.” I didn’t want to get into Mom’s past. “I don’t have proof, just a feeling.”

  “Confront him,” Uncle Shane said, “watch his features, you’ll be able to see the lie. I don’t know why you’re doubting yourself, Lindy. You were born for this sort of work.”

  The phrase rattled around in my mind long after he’d left, long after I’d pulled a blanket over myself, long after the fire had gone out and I’d drifted to sleep.

  You were born for this.

  Chapter 17

  It was nearly noon the next day before I ended up at the precinct. I’d had to wait for Uncle Shane to leave. If he’d caught wind of my plans he might have been tempted to stay. One member of our family operating outside jurisdiction was more than enough. Then I waited for Eleanor to leave as well. She could’ve stayed longer, school didn’t start back up until Monday, but I might’ve encouraged her to get an early start. I feared I’d given her a taste of danger, and she’d liked it too much. The dark world I lived in wasn’t meant for my younger sister. To keep her safe, I had to make sure she’d leave. My parents were next. With some of the dwindling funds from my bank account, I bought them a trip to the coast, asking forgiveness for the Ranger incident. The catch was that they had to leave by noon to make check-in. Yes, I was eliminating collateral damage, but if I could keep them safe, then I could focus once more.

  I signed in with the desk sergeant, and he allowed me entrance to meet Ranger. I hadn’t been sleeping well for at least a week, but one look at Ranger made me feel lucky. Dark circles had formed under his eyes, wrinkles had deepened, as if stress had aged him overnight. The smile on his face was held in place by sheer will alone, not the man I’d grown up admiring. Was it all in my mind? Was I seeing what I wanted to see, a dirty cop who wouldn’t take my case because it put him in danger? Or was he a good cop who’d grown cautious over the years?

  “Hey, Ranger, I thought I’d take you out to lunch. We haven’t gotten to catch up. I’ll be going home soon, so I thought this might be our chance.”

  He brightened, but whether it was because I wanted to spend time with him, or if it was because I mentioned I was leaving soon, I couldn’t be sure.

  “I don’t know if I can pull away. I’m working a big case right now.”

  I needed to talk with him, and I preferred not to accuse him of betrayal in the center of his own precinct.

  “How about a little walk then? You look like you haven’t seen daylight in weeks.”

  Ranger chuckled, but it was all air. “You might be right. Let’s go.”

  He followed me out through the bullpen, past the front desk and out the double doors that led to the parking lot. The whole time I debated what I would say, how I could start it, but words wouldn’t come.

  “You’re headed back home?”

  We stepped out into the open air. The storm hadn’t fully developed, mostly wind and dark clouds. More often than not, the rain neglected the valley, waiting to open its fury once it hit the mountains, or if it shifted and moved north, Sacramento Valley took the full brunt. But precipitation seemed to enjoy teasing the Central valley, opting for cool temperatures and never-ending droughts.

  “Yeah, I think next week.”

  “I figured you’d stick around until you managed to get your boyfriend out of jail.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” I corrected quickly.

  “Probably for the best,” Ranger said. “I know you don’t want to believe it, but he killed Hallie.”

  I stopped shy of a park bench, nowhere to sit, nowhere to run. “Do you actually believe that? With everything I’ve given you, do you actually believe that?”

  His feet shifted, backing away from me because he didn’t expect that edge to my voice.

  “I investigate, Lindy. I have to stay within the law, real cops can’t go breaking into offices and snapping pictures behind locked doors. There’s protocol to follow.”

  “Have you given my file to Narco yet?”

  I blurted it out without warning. The way he reacted would tell me how close my assumptions were to the truth. Another step back, as if I’d struck him, and his weight shifted back then forward, defensive and then immediately offensive. But his mouth, his mouth dropped open, words came and went like a towel blowing in the breeze, nothing intelligent, just lies trying to wind faster than his brain could move. I volleyed my next attack before he had a chance to recover.

  “Are you dirty? Is that what this is about?”

  The color of his cheeks glowed pink, then nearly red as anger overtook him.

  “Dirty? You think I’m flat out corrupt because I won’t take on your faulty case file? Exactly the opposite, Miss Johnson. I’m clean enough to know IA would be breathing down my neck if I turned those pictures over to Narco. I mentioned the shipment, they’re working on it.” His jaw hardened. He took another step back. “You think you’d know me better than that after all these years.”

  Guilt pricked at my edges, but I couldn’t give in to it. “Then help me take them down.”

  “I told you,” Ranger said again, “I gave the information to Narcotics. It’s in their court now, and you have no right to be working on any of this. I checked, you don’t have a license here.”

  I couldn’t give in to his threats, spoken or vague. My plan depended on strength, and it took all my willpower to keep it in check.

  “I’ll be there when that shipment comes in, license or no license.”

  “Narco will arrest you, Lindy, you have to realize that.”

  With a deep breath, I steeled my nerves. “I’m finishing this, Layton, you have to realize that.”

  I left before he could. The street was empty. Some part of me waited to see if a gun would go off because he’d shot me in the back.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The sun went down and half my bravery went with it. I locked every door and window in my cottage. It was a relief that my family was out of harm’s way, but on the flipside, it meant I was alone. There had been a time in my life when I would have appreciated that, but that time had passed once I met Ryder. There was no better partner in the world for me, and as much as I wanted to keep him safe, I ached to have him with me for this final showdown.

  Leaning against the twisted spokes of the wrought iron headboard in my room, I clicked open PI Net and prayed he’d be available. He wasn’t in the chat room and hadn’t been active yet that day. Immediately, my heart began to race. I’d been so focused on myself that I hadn’t considered his safety. Perhaps it had been easier than expected for Balcazar to find him. Or maybe there had been complications in his healing or mental process? Just as I was about to lose it completely, a message popped
up.

  “Hi, Katie.”

  My head made a soft thunking sound as it fell back against the metal frame of the headboard. He was okay.

  “Hey, Ryder,” I wrote back. “It’s good to talk to you.”

  I imagined his soft chuckle because he appreciated being appreciated. I didn’t do it enough. He was loving and wonderful, and compared to him I was the troll under the bridge.

  He wrote, “I had a hard day. I was hoping I’d have a friend here to cheer me up.”

  I read the message quickly before I wrote back, “What happened? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” popped up in the next couple seconds, so fast that I had to wonder if he’d typed it before I’d asked. “You have your guy, so I guess it’s safe to talk about this kind of thing.” He paused and even the bubbles stopped for thirty seconds. “I started painting today, early this morning, and the more I worked, the more I remembered.”

  My heartbeat rang in my ears. What had he remembered? The abuse? From Eden’s Haven? Or the abuse from his father? Maybe the fear? Willow’s murder? The horrors were endless, and I was powerless to help him.

  “No real memories,” he wrote, “and not recent, I guess. Just Lindy, all Lindy. Her eyes, her long fingers, the scars she carries, all of it. She flooded me today and I couldn’t get away.”

  I stared at his words for far too long. My back story faded, I couldn’t remember if I was supposed to know who Lindy was, or if I should ask. I didn’t know what to say even once I sorted all that out. None of what he’d written sounded entirely endearing. There was anger there. I could taste it.

  “She’s gone, and they’ve erased her from my phone, so I can’t even find her. She hasn’t logged on here in ages, and I don’t even know if she’s alive or not. I don’t even know why I can’t get her out of my mind.”

  My breathing shallowed. Who had erased my number? His mother? The doctors? Vanessa? It explained why he hadn’t reached out to me, texted or called as I had expected he would.

  “What did you paint?” My question broke up the words on the screen.