Hal cocked his head to the side.
“Nope. Sounds like the same story Eli gave.”
She glanced at Jason who sat wide-eyed and amazed. Shawn sat forward with both elbows on his knees, a stern look on his face.
“What happened to your neck?” he asked.
“It happened in the warehouse,” she said, putting a hand to her throat where Victor had choked her.
He met her gaze with scrutiny.
“Sure it did.”
“Okay,” Hal said, “I guess now what we have to do is determine what this means for the case.”
“It means we keep plugging along exactly like we have been,” Shyla said with determination.
“Not exactly,” Hal said, “not with you under-cover.”
“Listen,” Shyla sighed, “I already went over this with Eli. My cover is still solid. I’ve talked with Victor a couple of times to establish that I have no idea who Ricardo is or why he thought he recognized me. I visited him once in jail, and then we talked on the phone as soon as he got back. In fact, we have a date tomorrow night.”
“Jesus Christ, Shyla,” Shawn shouted as he bolted out of his chair, “do you have some kind of death wish or something? It’s over. Your cover is no longer ‘solid’ as you call it. This case is a goddamn mess and you want to go make out with the drug dealer anyway, so you can feel like your some kind of hero or something?”
Shyla shot to her feet.
“Outside,” she ordered, “now, Shawn.”
“Screw this,” he said and marched out the door.
Shyla glanced down first at Hal then at Jason.
“I’m sorry you guys, but this meeting is over,” she said, “you know where I stand and so does Eli. The case is moving forward. I have a date tomorrow night. I’ll give report first thing Friday morning. Now if you excuse me, I need to have a word with Shawn.”
She strode out the door. Stepping outside, she saw that Shawn was already half-way across the gravel drive and nearing his car.
“Shawn,” she called out.
He ignored her.
“Shawn!”
His long-legged stride never faltered. She sprinted across the drive and grabbed him by the arm just as he opened the driver side door.
“Damn it, Shawn, I want to talk to you.”
“Well I don’t want to talk to you,” he said, shrugging off her grip, “you’ve got your mind made up and there’s nothing anyone can do to talk some sense into that fool brain of yours. You tend to do whatever you want, whenever you want. That’s why you’re so goddamn unpredictable and can’t keep a partner.”
That was a low blow, thought Shyla.
“Is this about the case, Shawn, or is this about the kiss? Come on, be honest here. You obviously have a lot to get off your chest, so let it all out.”
She knew she wasn’t playing fair, pressing his buttons when he was already angry. But she was livid, confused, and frustrated. Something had to give.
“You think you can just stomp into my apartment and kiss me then stomp right back out without even an explanation? Then you’re just going to act like it never happened today before you start yelling at me in front of Hal and Jason, insinuating that I’m just whoring around with Victor to pump up my ego at the expense of the case?
“Well screw that, Shawn. I’ve had enough of your pouty, schizophrenic attitude. I can’t tell if you hate me or want to fuck me. I don’t think you can either. But none of that matters anyway. What matters is the case and your job. Everything else is null and void. Do you get that?”
Shawn’s face hardened.
“You’re right,” he said, “it doesn’t matter. I’ll catch ya later.”
With that, he slid into his mustang.
Shyla stood back and watched him peel out of the drive, rocks flying in his wake.
She didn’t have to turn around to know that Hal, Jason, and Hal’s wife were watching from the kitchen window. Popping her shades back on, she pulled out her keys and hopped in her car. She was thankful that her date with Victor wasn’t until the next evening. She needed a break from men. She’d had more than she could take for the time being.
TWENTY-FIVE
On Thursday afternoon, Brennan waited in the parlor, cogitating on his latest discovery and how to tell Victor what he’d found. He’d spent the better part of the morning sifting through old newspaper articles in the library and running internet searches.
He sat perched on the edge of the sofa staring out the window at the open field encircled by ponderosa pine. The weather was starting to cool and the leaves would begin to change within the next month. Fall was coming.
Victor’s footsteps approached the sitting area. For just a split second he contemplated keeping the information to himself. He somehow felt closer to Shyla now that he knew a bit about her history. She’d had a tough childhood. She’d had to fight for survival. That he could understand.
But he wouldn’t hide what he knew. He waited.
“Hey, man,” Victor said, “where’ve you been all morning? I’ve been on the phone with our lawyer sorting through this mess. And you’re nowhere to be found. What gives? And why in the hell can’t you sit on the couch like a normal human being? Get off the back before you break it. God damn, it’s like talking to a child sometimes.”
Brennan ignored Victor’s foul mood. He’d been stewing since they’d been released. He knew Victor had already contacted Shyla and arranged to have her over the following evening. Brennan believed that Victor had feelings for her in his own way, but he also had doubts now. He wanted to dispel any chance of foul play, but both of them knew that something wasn’t right.
He stood up and shuffled toward the bar.
“I was at the library all morning going through old newspaper articles,” he said, “trying to dig up whatever I could find on Shyla.”
Victor stood rigid as Brennan poured a few hefty swigs of Scotch into sifter glasses.
“Well…what did you find?”
“I didn’t come up with anything recent,” he said, handing over one of the glasses. “but I did find some things which dated to about nineteen years ago. Funny thing is they were all local papers. It seems that Shyla was born and raised in Redding. And she’s changed her last name since.”
If Victor was shocked, he didn’t show it. Only his jaw clenched.
“Okay…so she was born and raised here. She never said anything about that to me. She said she’d just moved from Seattle. Maybe she just moved back from Seattle. She could have gone to college up there or something. She says she moved for the job. Maybe times were tough up there.”
Brennan could hear the hope mixed with doubt in Victor’s voice.
“I don’t know where she moved from or why,” he said, “but I know why she moved away. Or at least I can guess. According to her yearbook she graduated as Shyla Strauss from Redding High School in 1993 at age eighteen. Her mother died in the spring of 1990. She committed suicide. The month before that…her father died.” Brennan paused.
“At age fourteen Shyla stabbed her father to death in their kitchen,” he continued, “during the trial it came out that Shyla had been sexually abused by him for years and she just snapped out one night.”
Victor took a deep slug of the honey-colored drink. He turned and walked toward the window. The room was loud with the silence.
“It makes sense that she wouldn’t want to share such a thing,” he said, “I doubt she imparts that information to very many people at all. But still…”
“It’s hard to imagine she’d be trying to pass off as someone else in her own home town,” Brennan suggested, “she’d know that sooner or later you’d hear talk. She may not be upfront about her past, but I don’t think she’s going out of her way to hide it either.”
Victor’s eyes met Brennan’s. His determination was vivid.
“It still doesn’t explain Ricardo’s reaction. Are you sure you didn’t find anything on her beyond her graduation date?”
“Maybe,” Victor nodded, “well…there’s only one way to find out. I want you to go back to L.A. first thing tomorrow morning. I want you to dig around. Hell, go pay a visit to Ricardo. I’ll ring up our lawyer again. He’ll help us out.
“Shyla’s coming over tomorrow night and I want this put to rest by then. I want answers and I want them now.”
TWENTY-SIX
“Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you…”
Shyla stood, her hands clasped with glee as her mother held a homemade birthday cake burning with twelve candles and sang Happy Birthday.
It wasn’t just her birthday which made her so happy. It was the fact that her mom was home, and looked joyful for once. She had been working so many extra shifts lately to compensate for dad’s unemployment. Shyla had not only been missing her, she’d been alone more and more with dad. His moods had only grown worse, as did his drinking.
But she didn’t want to think of that today. She wanted to celebrate her birthday with her mom.
When the song finished she leaned over, closed her eyes, and blew out the candles with a silent wish. Guilt tried to shove aside her cheer as she believed the wish was selfish and bad. But she wished it nonetheless. She knew it wouldn’t come true anyway, so it couldn’t hurt.
When she opened her eyes she saw that her mother’s were gleaming with tears. “Oh, my baby is growing up. I can’t believe you’re twelve years old.”
“Time to get a job,” her dad teased with a chuckle.
She ignored his jibe. There was a time when she used to find his quick quips funny, but over the past few years everything he did seemed evil and ugly. She hated him.
“Oh, Dave, quit giving her a hard time,” her mom said, “it’s her birthday.”
“Yeah, but you’re gonna spoil her giving her a piece of cake before dinner. You’re going about it all backward, Sandra.”
Her mom waved her hand, blowing him off.
“Rules are made to be broken, especially on birthdays. Besides, this is the first time I’ve ever baked one from scratch. I’m proud of it.”
She set the cake on the table and put her hands on her hips.
“Now, speaking of dinner, where would you like to eat tonight, Shyla?”
Shyla rose up on her toes in anticipation.
“You mean we get to go out to dinner? But we never get to. It costs too much.”
“Yeah, well, I saved a little extra on the side and I want to celebrate my baby girl’s twelfth birthday.”
“Yeah!” Shyla jumped up and down. It would be the best birthday ever. She just wished dad would stay home so she could have her mom all to herself.
They went to Black Angus that night. She stuffed herself on steak and a baked potato and garlic bread with a ton of butter. Her dad ordered too many pint-sized beers and by the time they left the restaurant he already had that dark look in his eyes. There would be an argument. It wasn’t rocket science.
Later that night after the screaming was over, she sat up in her room and cried until her face felt chapped.
The knock on her door was soft; Mom.
“Come in.”
She walked in with two paper plates full of cake. She had a smile pasted to her face, shame in her eye and a fat lower lip.
“I brought you some cake, baby girl.”
Shyla didn’t feel like having cake. Her stomach felt tight and hot. Every time her dad laid an unwanted hand on either of them it brought on a flush of overwhelming emotions. When it was mom, she felt anger; burning and boiling. When it was her, it was relentless shame and disgust. But it was useless to make a stink over it.
“Thanks, mom.”
She reached out and took the plate. It would hurt her if she didn’t.
Taking a bite of the rich, moist chocolate cake, her throat constricted and she feared she wouldn’t be able to swallow it down. Tears burned at the back of her eyelids.
Mom set her plate on the bed and pulled out a small box.
“I have a present for you,”she said.
Shyla choked down the cake and stared at the small jewelry box.
“I couldn’t afford to buy you something this year, but I think this will be even better.”
When she held out her hand, Shyla reached out and carefully grabbed the box. Unsure of her emotions, she opened it and stared in awe at the pair of sapphire earrings.
“They were my mother’s. She wore them when she was a young woman and passed them to me before she died. I always knew I would pass them down to you when it felt right. I think today is that day. You are a young lady now. You deserve something beautiful.”
Shyla flung herself into her mom’s lap.
“Thank you. I love them. They are so pretty.”
Her mom brushed a hand down her back.
“You are pretty Shyla. And smart. And you can do anything you want. Someday you are going to do good things, great things. You are going to make the world a better place. I just know it. I believe in you. Forever and ever.”
*
Shyla woke when a solid knock landed on her front door. She didn’t want to be awake. She wanted to hold on to the dream, to her mother’s presence.
The knocking persisted.
After she’d left Hal’s place, she’d gone for a run to burn off steam and the remnants of her hangover. Without showering, she’d sat on her couch and thumbed through the pile of bills she’d been neglecting. She must have fallen asleep because, as she rose off the couch and walked to the door, the apartment was nearly dark with only the last bits of twilight seeping in.
Groggy, she opened the door.
Hal stood with perfectly straight posture and looked uncomfortable.
“Hey, Hal. Is everything okay?”
“Can I come in?”
She didn’t miss the fact that he hadn’t answered the question. Stepping back she let him in.
“Sure. Be my guest.”
She shut the door and flicked on the hall light.
“Sorry, I’m not myself right now,” she said, “I must have fallen asleep. Can I get you something; water, soda, tequila?”
“No thanks,” Hal said, holding back, “I can’t stay long. The wife and I are supposed to have dinner with her parents.”
Shyla sensed his agitation. Leaning a shoulder against the wall she crossed a foot over the other.
“All right then. What’s up? I can tell something’s eatin’ at you so spit it out.”
“Eli Straton and I had a conversation this afternoon.”
“Yeah, and?”
“You’re off the case, Shyla.”
She’d known it was coming. Embarrassment at her failure and anger at their authority made her feel queasy, but she squashed the emotions down and tried her best to remain detached and professional.
“This is crap, Hal. And you know it.”
He shook his head solemnly.
“No, Shyla, I think this is absolutely the right decision. Everything is too tentative right now. Your safety is the priority. You need to break it off with Victor before tomorrow night. Eli doesn’t want you anywhere near him.”
“So that’s it?”
“For now, it is. Eli wants a conference call with the team next Monday. We’ll regroup and decide what the next step is.”
“Fine,”she sighed in resignation.
Hal narrowed his gaze.
“Fine?”
“Yeah, fine. What else do you want me to say? I told you earlier today that I think the case is still solid, that I have had contact with Victor. I don’t think there’s anything I can say that will make you guys believe that I have this under control. So what’s the point?”
Hal nodded and looked uncomfortable.
“Okay, well…why don’t you take the next few days and rest a bit? You’ll feel better by Monday.”
“Yeah, okay. Maybe you’re right. I could use some down time. Now yo
u’d better head out and get to your engagement.”
He turned and opened the door. Hesitating, he glanced back.
“You going to be okay?” he asked.
“Psh, who me? Yeah, I’ll be just fine. Thanks, Hal.”
He gave a weak smile.
“I’ll see you Monday. Goodnight, Shyla.” He shut the door behind him.
Her earlier dream was still fresh in her mind; the anticipation of great things to come followed by disappointment and frustration. She touched her earlobes and thought of her mother’s declaration: ‘you will make the world a better place’.
Damn right she would. So what if Eli had forbidden it? Rules were meant to be broken, weren’t they?
TWENTY-SEVEN
Restless didn’t even begin to describe the way Shyla was feeling as she sat in her car at the top of the knoll, a football field away from Victor’s house. The moon was nearly full and seemed to be staring in through the windshield, mocking her.
All day, as she fought off her hangover, she simultaneously battled against the sensation that she was dangerously on the edge of loosing it. Her skin was sensitive. It felt like tiny ants were crawling over her. She felt jittery and had a hard time sitting still. She knew it was just nerves but the knowing didn’t help ease the pain.
When she couldn’t take it anymore, she followed instinct and hopped into the car, bound for Victor’s. As she neared his drive, she had cut the lights and drifted past the gate and up the incline, parking well off the road at the top of the small hill where she would have good vision of his house in the small valley.
Off the case? How could they do that to her? Didn’t they know that they were throwing away the opportunity of a lifetime? She had already made so much progress with Victor, how could they toss all that aside just because they were paranoid?
She figured it had been at least an hour as she sat crunching on one Dorito after another, licking her fingers nervously as she staked the house. There hadn’t been much movement, until she saw someone stomp out the front door of the main house, cross the drive under the one streetlight which lit up that area of the property and up to Brennan’s apartment. Even at that distance she recognized Victor’s aggressive demeanor.
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