by Marion Myles
“Hey, I know. Don’t worry. If you see something today, great. If not, I know you will at some point.”
She shook her head. “No, I can’t—”
Once again he cut her off. “Mia, I have infinite faith in you. One way or another you’re gonna help us get this bastard.”
The doors slid open, and they stepped out into an office space. Half-walled cubicles filled the floor, though it was mostly empty of people. She could hear two men talking about an upcoming baseball game. As she and Roman walked along, a woman spoke into a phone reassuring someone that everything was being done to find the person who’d vandalized their car. Roman strode ahead to the far wall and turning left continued to the second door. He stopped and gestured Mia inside.
It was small, barely enough room for a desk and two visitor chairs. There were no personal mementos on display. She’d expected sports trophies or photos or something, but the décor was completely generic.
“You need some plants in here,” she said as she continued surveying the small room.
“Do I?” His smile was warm.
“Plants are proven to reduce anxiety and increase the oxygen in the air. It’s not healthy to spend your day inside breathing recycled air.”
“And what about when I forget to water them, and they die a slow and painful death?”
“We could get you the hardy kind that barely needs any water. A couple of aloes and maybe a snake plant or two.”
He closed the door and leaned back against it. “And when the guys make fun of me, will you come here and set them straight?”
“Absolutely. I’ll tell them that you’re sexy and sensitive and extremely attentive to my needs in bed.” She smiled a wicked smile. “Or are those the kind of things I’m supposed to keep to myself?”
“Definitely things to keep to yourself.”
He walked over to her. “Hi, Mia.”
She stepped back. “No, Roman.”
“Are you serious? We had sex less than twenty-four hours ago.”
“Yes, but that was a one-time thing. Come on, we can be grown-ups about this. Let’s not make it all weird, okay? Why don’t we get started?”
He gazed at her for several seconds then gave a jerking kind of shrug. “Sure. No problem. Go ahead and sit in my chair,” he said and waited until she’d walked around the desk and slid onto the seat. “Open the top right drawer.”
She followed his direction and immediately saw the clear plastic bag with the red band across the top and Evidence stamped in black letters. Inside were two long bones. Mia guessed they were from the lower arm. She placed the bag on the blotter of the desk and looked over to Roman who leaned against the wall by the window.
“Hang on a sec. There should be another bag in there. Do the ring first. None of us recognize it. Luke swears up and down he never bought or gave her a ring.”
Mia found the smaller evidence bag and pulled it out. “It’s okay to touch?”
“Yeah, everything’s been processed, so go ahead and take it out.”
The ring was gorgeous. The emerald stone sparkled, and the ornate carving on the band caught the eye. She cupped it gently in her palm and saw all kinds of things. A middle-aged Latino man with a dirty red bandana tied around his neck who wore a yellow hat with a lamp fixed above the brim. An open-air market with table after table of gemstones. A man in a tiny office scowling over a form titled Import Duties and Taxes. A Caucasian woman’s reflection in a glass display case. Nothing with Anita or a grave or anything else that could help find the killer.
She shook her head and placed it back inside the plastic before turning to the larger bag.
“I thought they’d be white,” she said.
“Bones that have been in the soil for a long time like these ones are typically discolored.”
Sliding the tab across the top of the bag, Mia reached in and pressed her fingertip onto the longer of the two bones. The edge was rougher than she’d expected. It reminded her of a pumice stone. She wrapped her fingers around it and closed her eyes.
“Hello, Anita,” she thought. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry you’re dead. And since you are, it’s really important you tell me who hurt you.”
Nothing happened.
Mia focused on her breath. Slowly in. Slowly out. What if Anita didn’t show her anything? No, worrying wouldn’t help. She kept her mind as blank as possible and pushed away the anxiety. She brought to mind some of the flashes she’d already seen of Anita with Luke, with Brooke, with her family. She pictured her soft brown eyes and sweeping curls. Still, the bones remained silent.
Eventually, she became aware of Roman shifting nearby and heard him clear his throat.
“I’m so sorry,” she said finally, opening her eyes and turning to see his hopeful expression. “There’s nothing at all. I really thought if I—”
His expression smoothed out. “It’s fine. We had to try, right?”
Looking down again, she ran her finger around the bulbous end of the bone before withdrawing her hand and sliding the tab across to seal the bag. “Should I put them back in the drawer?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I’m really sorry,” she said again.
She carefully nestled the bag in the drawer and began sliding it closed. Out of nowhere came a wave of intense nausea, and she clutched at her stomach.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Roman knelt beside the chair.
For a moment, Mia actually thought she might vomit, and she closed her eyes, breathing fiercely. In the next instant, she was in the scene.
Anita leaned against the wall of a bathroom stall. She was lightheaded and nauseous. She rubbed a hand over her sweaty forehead then turned her wrist and glanced at her watch. Five after twelve. She waited, counting to sixty then let out a long breath before turning to the toilet.
Balanced on the seat was a rectangle of white plastic. She picked it up and stared down at it. Two pink lines. Pregnant. She shoved the test stick into her purse and pulled free a handful of toilet paper, swiping furiously at her eyes.
“Mia. Mia. Talk to me. What’s going on?”
Roman’s voice penetrated her consciousness, and the scene flashed away.
“Anita was pregnant,” she whispered.
“What? Are you sure?” Roman leaned toward her, his eyes searching her face.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
He shot to his feet and paced away, his hand rifling through his hair. “My sister was pregnant,” he mumbled.
Mia pushed off the chair and walking around the desk, reached out and grabbed Roman’s shoulder. “Wait. I don’t know when she was pregnant. Maybe it happened long before she was killed. She could have had an abortion.”
Roman whirled to face her. “What do you mean?”
“Look, I saw her in a bathroom stall reading a pregnancy test. She was feeling sick and crying. What I don’t know is when it happened.”
“All right, you have a point. I want you to sit right here and think about the scene and tell me everything you remember,” he demanded, pushing her down into the nearest visitor chair. “You said she was in a bathroom. Was it at my parent’s house?”
Mia shook her head. “No, it was a stall in a public restroom. The side was metal, and there was dark grey tile on the floor.”
“What was she wearing?”
Mia closed her eyes. “Tan capris, red sandals, and a red short-sleeved blouse.”
He nodded. “Okay, so it was summer then. What else? Did she have nail polish on? Jewelry? Could you hear anyone else in the bathroom?”
“Um…I think she was alone. She wore a silver watch with a square face on her left wrist and a silver and gold ring on her middle finger. I’m not sure about her other hand. ‘I Kissed a Girl’ was playing on the sound system. That’s all I remember.”
“Okay, this is good. My parents gave her the ring for her sixteenth birthday, and I think she got the watch a Christmas or two later. I’ll have to ask my mom. That Katy Per
ry song, when did it come out?”
“A long time ago. I don’t remember exactly.”
Roman whirled around and went to his chair. He pulled the keyboard shelf toward him and started clicking and typing. He pointed at Mia. “‘I Kissed a Girl’ was released in two thousand and eight. April twenty-eighth to be precise. The very year Anita went missing.”
He turned back to the screen and typed some more, nodding his head as he read. A huge smile broke over his face.
“What is it?” she asked.
The weather in the early part of two thousand eight was not typical. The first day to hit eighty was May fifth. Anita hated the cold. There’s no way she’d be wearing a little blouse and sandals unless it was at least that warm. It’s likely your vision is from somewhere between May fifth and July sixth of the year she disappeared.”
“Do you think Luke knew?”
“That’s a really good question. I think we might just have to ask him, don’t you?” He leaned back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his face. “I’ll have to figure out how to introduce this into the investigation.”
“Or we could go and talk to him ourselves,” Mia suggested.
He blew out a breath. “Yeah, but it’d be a whole lot better to do it by the book. If he had anything to do with what happened to my sister, I want it all official.”
“Can’t it be a follow-up interview now that you’ve found her remains?”
He nodded his head. “Maybe. I’ll run it by the lieutenant, I guess.”
“I wonder if Brooke and Ashley knew. And what about Lina? Don’t sisters talk about that kind of stuff?”
“I don’t know. Lina was so much older, and she’d been away at school and working for a while by then. I’d been real interested in finding out if Brooke knew.”
“I’ll bet Anita went to the doctor. You should get her medical records.”
“That’s a tough area. She was an adult when she died, and they have that whole patient confidentiality thing going on. If I can get someone else to admit to knowing, then a judge will probably be willing to sign off on a subpoena for anything from her file related to a pregnancy. Otherwise, I don’t see us getting too far on that front.”
“Well, somebody had to know,” Mia insisted.
“Yeah.” Roman nodded his head. “Now all we have to do is find out who.”
* * *
Mia mulled over the revelation all the way home. The fact Anita was pregnant didn’t necessarily have anything to do with her murder, but it seemed entirely too coincidental to be dismissed. Added to that, if it wasn’t somehow important, why would she have seen that exact moment in time shortly after touching her bones. It had to mean something.
Determinedly, she did not think about Roman. Last night had been wonderful, but they could never be together long term. He was a cop, for heaven’s sake, and she…well…if he ever found out about her past, he wouldn’t want to be with her anyway. It was best to look on it as a mutually happy indulgence and leave it at that.
She turned onto her driveway and had gone barely ten feet when an animal streaked across in front of her SUV. She slammed on the brakes, heart thudding. What the heck was that? She gasped when something bounced against her window.
Holy hell, it was Mac. Flinging the door open, she called him, and he leapt at her, his feet digging into her thighs while he lapped her face.
“What on earth are you doing out here?” she cried, grabbing his collar. “Do not tell me you jumped the fence. Come on, buddy, let’s get you in the back seat.”
Mac hopped in obligingly then proceeded to whine and fidget when she slid behind the wheel. She put the car in drive, and Mac lifted his nose into the air and howled. Once again she stomped on the brakes, and the dog shifted forward, his front paws sliding off the seat. He bounced back again and continued whining.
“Look, I get it,” she said sympathetically. “It was scary running around on your own like that, but I’m home now, and everything’s okay.”
When Mia turned back once again and prepared to continue to the house, she saw the tiny snowflake dog sitting in the grass up ahead beside a tree. She bolted out of the car.
“Fifi, come. Come here, girl. Come on. That’s my good girl.”
She crouched down and worked to keep her voice calm and reassuring. It wasn’t easy since they were steps away from the road. Although hardly a traffic hub, it would be her luck to have Fifi run out and get hit.
Thankfully, the little dog galloped toward her, hair rippling back in the breeze and eyes bright with excitement. Fifi leapt straight into Mia’s lap, and she hugged the dog tight to her chest.
“Oh, my poor baby. Come on, let’s get you and Mac home.”
She drove cautiously down the driveway, terrified that either Layla or Tucker might suddenly throw themselves in the path of the tires. Neither appeared. Once at the house, she took the dogs inside. The absolute quiet told her what she feared was true. The other two dogs were nowhere to be seen.
It didn’t make any kind of sense. The gate by the house was closed and locked, just like always. How the heck had they escaped?
No time to solve that now. She had to find the missing dogs. Since twilight was falling, she grabbed her heavy-duty flashlight by the back door and putting Mac and Fifi on leashes, walked the property while calling for Layla and Tucker. It was a windy night, and it was hard to hear much beyond the rustling of tree branches and field grass, but she screamed their names and continued walking around and around her acreage.
The moon started to rise, and gradually the wind died down, but still nothing. Her flashlight beam crisscrossed back and forth over the fields. She turned again, dragging a now reluctant Mac toward the brook at the back of the property. He whined and twisted against the leash and all at once let out a series of triumphant barks.
She heard an answering yip and held her breath, ears straining, flashlight scanning left and right. Something brushed by her knee, and she spun around to see Layla jumping on Mac. Their reunion was noisy, even more so when Tucker leapt through a nearby bush and threw himself into the fray.
Mia crumpled to the ground. Her pack ran over her, licking, whining, bumping, while her breath sobbed out, and tears of relief poured down her cheeks.
* * *
The beam of Roman’s spotlight lingered on the jagged cuts. He and Mia stood near the end of the dog run behind her house and silently stared at the section of fencing that had been opened up. The post at the corner stood unmolested, but someone had taken wire cutters and ripped away a whole panel where it attached to the edge. The cuts were uneven, and some of the wire was bent back so violently it resembled broken fingers.
Giving it a wide berth, he walked around to the far side and shone his light along the ground. He growled in his throat.
“The dirt’s too dry to find any tracks. If we get real lucky, maybe the perp dropped something. Otherwise, this is a dead end.”
Mia nodded. “And everything about the note is so generic, I’ll bet there’s nothing there either.”
“Let’s go back in and look at it again before I take it to the station.”
When they walked toward the house, he placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. “It was a crappy thing to do. I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, well nobody got hurt.”
“This time. As soon as they’re done processing the area tomorrow, I’ll help you fix the dog run. Do you have anyone who can come and stay with you tonight?”
She shook her head. “Not really. Besides, I’ll be fine. The dogs will keep me safe.”
“It may seem like a prank, but you need to take this seriously.”
“Trust me, I am,” she said grimly. “And nothing that puts my dogs in danger is a prank.”
Back in her kitchen, she pointed at the piece of paper on her counter. Pulling a Kleenex from the box on the fridge, he carefully used it to pick up the note.
Stop helping the police or worse things will happen<
br />
Mia had found it tucked into the window frame on the side door off her kitchen. The envelope was plain white with no writing. The note was typed or generated by a computer on a sheet of eight and a half by eleven with the single line spaced roughly in the center.
That was it. No other marks could be seen with the naked eye other than a smudge of dirt along one side of the envelope consistent with the edge of the window. Roman doubted they’d find anything to help locate the person who did this.
He glanced over at Mia who stood with her arms crossed over her chest and hip cocked against the counter. Her face was set in resolute lines. Despite her show of bravado, she seemed very small to him. So defenseless.
“Why don’t I stay here for a few days? At least until we have a chance to track whoever did this.”
She immediately shook her head. “I told you, I’m fine. I have the dogs. Roman, you don’t need to worry about me. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time now.”
“Okay, fine. But I want you to text me morning and night. You carry the cell with you everywhere you go, got it?
“Yes, sir. Boss man.” Using the first two fingers of her right hand, she gave him a mock salute.
His face creased with concern. “I want to make sure you stay safe. You mean a lot to me.”
Her smile was wistful. “Thanks, Roman. You’re a really good guy.”
Chapter Seventeen
By the time Roman had logged the items into evidence and written up his notes to the case file, it was too late to go back to his parents’ house, so he drove the three blocks over to his apartment and climbed the stairs to his front door.
He was bagged. All told, it had been a hell of a week. What he needed was some serious down time, and he hoped to God he’d finally get a decent night’s sleep. Ever since Anita’s body had been found, he’d been too strung up to stay asleep for more than an hour or so at a time. The fact there was proof someone had murdered his sister left a ball of rage roiling in his gut and made him twitchy and over adrenalized.
