by Ronica Black
Jerry slung his shotgun and rifle over his shoulders and shoved two revolvers into the waistband of his jeans. He banged out the door and ran down the porch steps. Roger climbed out of the truck to let Jerry in. Her uncle paused, catching sight of her hurrying down the steps.
“Go back inside, Lizzie.”
“But I wanna go with you.”
Roger bowed his head, as if too overcome with emotion even to look at her.
“This ain’t for you to handle.” Jerry nodded toward the porch where Dayne stood looking ashen. “You go on inside and let Dayne tend to your arm.”
“But Jay—”
“We’re gonna go git your sister. I promise you that.” He and Roger climbed in the truck with Earl, and the three men sped off into the Alabama woods.
Liz pulled off the paved road and followed a bumpy trail carved into the barren desert. After driving for about ten minutes she reached a clearing and put the Range Rover in park. She sat staring into the thick beams of her headlights. Dust hung heavy in the air. She glanced at the clock and grew all the more anxious.
Then, as the dirty air settled, she saw movement, a lone figure emerging from the darkness.
*
“Interesting place.”
He walked slowly through the house, noting the lack of photos or artwork on the walls, the mismatched old furniture, and numerous dark stains on the carpet. He could smell the staleness of the air. Lack of taste resonated from every room, and a coat of dust covered every surface. The place probably hadn’t been cleaned in months. It almost looked as though it wasn’t lived in. As if it were just kept on the side for doings he could only begin to imagine.
He entered what, in an average house, would be the dining room. He stopped and ran his hands over a foosball table. It appeared to be on the newer side. On the adjacent wall hung an electronic dartboard. At least two dozen framed and signed photos of professional athletes, most of them baseball players, lined the walls. Had he given a shit it would have been quite impressive.
He shook his head, confused by the choice of décor.
He tried not to think of that, though.
A home makeover wasn’t why he was here. He cocked his head as a small ripple of unease stirred in the back of his mind. Why exactly was he there?
He turned as he heard footsteps approaching from behind. A cold drink was offered to him, along with a disarming smile.
“Why, thank you.” He took the drink with a smile of his own and downed several sips. One thing was for sure, it was going to be an interesting evening.
*
What the hell am I doing? Patricia asked for the tenth time as the bartender’s hands went up under her shirt, thrilling her skin.
You’re getting laid. Now shut up and enjoy it.
Madelyn was now under her bra and pinching her nipples. Patricia caught her breath in pleasurable surprise. Mad laughed in her ear.
She’s a La Femme bartender.
Tracy Walsh was a La Femme bartender. So was Kristen Reece.
Killers.
Mad worked her nipples harder and bit her neck, pushing her firmly against the wall, forcing the thoughts out.
“I’m so glad you called,” she purred, rubbing her thigh against Patricia’s crotch.
Her apartment was tiny and cluttered, the taste eclectic. It smelled of incense and dryer sheets. Clean but overwhelming.
“I don’t usually do this,” Patricia confessed.
“What’s that?”
“This. Casual sex.”
Mad grinned devilishly. “Well, maybe that’s your problem.” She rolled Patricia’s nipples and tugged on them.
“Mmm.” Patricia couldn’t speak. She was too caught up in the battle between her paranoid mind and starving body.
You’ve checked her out. She’s clean. Not even into drugs. Now relax, she wants you.
Her eyes rolled back in her head as the wonderful sensation of a hot wet mouth on her skin spread throughout her insides. It felt so good. It had been so long. Seeing Erin the other night had only worsened her state of mind, leaving her feeling vulnerable, confused, and hungry once again. Then there was Audrey Sinclair. The stunning cop had also stirred her blood. Suddenly her body demanded service.
“You are really fucking beautiful,” Mad said. The bartender had been ready for her, pouncing on her the second she’d walked in the apartment door. “I can’t wait to taste you. I bet you’re already soaking wet.”
She lowered her hand to hastily unbutton Patricia’s jeans. As her nimble fingers inched their way down into her panties, Patricia began to doubt her decision. “Wait, maybe we should…”
Oh, God. It’s…fuck…it’s so fucking wonderful. Patricia closed her eyes, overcome.
Mad laughed again, having found her aching flesh. “Yeah, baby, feel me.” She moved her hand up and down, her fingers sliding along the sides of her clit.
Patricia’s head banged back against the wall as Mad’s fingers skimmed over the tip of the engorged head. Her legs trembled, threatening to give.
Do what she says. Just feel it.
Yes. Anything.
Anything to get free from my mind.
A ringtone sounded and Patricia jumped, making Mad pull her hand away. Patricia plucked her cell phone off the sagging waistline of her jeans. The digital clock told her it was after midnight and the caller was Gary Jacobs. She had to talk to him.
“Henderson,” she said, gasping for breath.
“Where are you?”
Caught off guard, she fingered her hair with a shaky hand. “I’m out, just you know, out.” She felt guilty and defensive. “Am I not allowed to go out?”
All she did was work. Work and write. She never did anything socially for herself.
“What?” Gary sounded confused but quickly moved on. “We got another one.”
Patricia felt the blood rush from her face. Her mind was still way behind her body. Dazed, she said, “What?”
“We got another one that looks like Gillette.”
Patricia swayed a little as her blood rushed back to her head. “Where?”
“East Valle Luna, practically in Adams’s backyard. The station got an anonymous call an hour ago. I’m just now on my way.”
“I’ll be right there.”
She ended the call and stuck her phone into her pocket as she hitched up her jeans. What am I doing here? Suddenly her harmless little get-together seemed more than obviously wrong. Mad worked for Adams. They were investigating Adams. Not to mention the fact that Patricia didn’t have casual sex. Especially with someone who was known to have it often. Had she learned nothing from her relationship with Adams? She felt sick with shame and guilt.
“I have to go.” She buttoned her pants and adjusted her shirt and hair.
“That’s too bad,” Mad raised her hand to lick at her fingers. “I was just getting started.”
Patricia ignored her, upset at her body for still responding to her. She moved to the door with Mad close behind.
“Come back anytime, so we can finish.” Mad leaned in and planted a firm, wet kiss on her lips. Maybe we can whip out those handcuffs.”
Patricia forced a small smile. As she turned to walk out she knew without a doubt that she would never be back. The handcuffs would remain cold forever.
*
Jay Adams watched it all from her position nestled into the side of the mountain. Down below, red and blue flashing lights went around and around, lighting up the walls of the surrounding hills. She hugged herself against the chill of the night air.
Lizzie.
Her sister’s large home was down and to the left. The body, now covered in a sheet, was only a couple hundred yards away.
Things had to be done. Like it or not.
She squinted as more portable floodlights were turned on. Anxious detectives and forensic people milled around the crime scene, working like misguided ants to examine and preserve the area. Car doors slammed as more arrived.
It was
right that she came back.
For her, her sister whom she loved more than anything in the world. The one she’d sworn to protect always.
Chapter Eleven
Patricia climbed out of her Chevy Blazer, exhausted.
“Is it true?”
“Oh, my God.” She clasped her chest, at first in fright and then in relief. She caught her breath. “You scared the shit out of me, Mac.”
She’d just arrived home after examining their latest victim and crime scene. It had been a long night.
“Sorry.” Erin approached from the edge of the driveway.
“Is what true?” Patricia removed her sunglasses and squinted at her in the harsh sunlight.
“That there’s been another murder? One connected to Gillette’s?”
“Yes.” Patricia studied her closely. She looked weak with fatigue and confusion.
“Is it true the victim is linked to Liz?”
“Yes.”
Erin’s body appeared to go limp, but she fought to hold herself upright. “Who…who was it?”
“We’ve been trying to find you,” Patricia said. “No one’s seen you. Adams isn’t speaking to us.” Patricia took a step toward her, noticing the instability in her stance. “Mac, are you okay?”
“Just please, tell me who.”
“De Maro. Antwon.”
“Oh, God.” Erin nearly collapsed, but Patricia caught her in the nick of time.
“Come on,” she said, “let’s get you something to drink.”
She helped her into the house where the security system beeped. Her Jack Russell terrier, Jack, caught their scent and stood and stretched on his little bed in the corner. Patricia hurriedly typed in her code to silence the new security system she’d installed. A strong sense of déjà vu overcame her as she watched Erin kneel on the Spanish tile to pet Jack. It hadn’t been that long ago. Her heart rate kicked up as she recalled the stormy night when Tracy Walsh and Jay Adams had broken into her home.
Erin straightened and looked at her as if she knew what she was thinking. “You got an alarm.”
Patricia forced a calm smile. She had to put the past behind her. But it was difficult when it was staring her right in the face.
“Are you okay with my being here? I mean, after everything.” Erin shook her head as if she were frustrated with herself for even asking. She headed for the door. “It was wrong of me to come.”
Patricia reached for her arm. She had such mixed emotions over Erin, feelings she might never figure out. But she couldn’t let her leave. Not when she looked as if she might crumple at any moment.
“It’s all right,” she said, relieved when Erin allowed herself to be escorted to the living room.
Patricia eased her down onto the leather couch and left her with an affectionate Jack. As a cop who had experienced malice on her own turf, she was now adamant about keeping the doors and windows locked at all times even with the addition of the alarm.
After securing the house, she poured a glass of iced tea for each of them and sat down on the couch a few feet from Erin.
“Mac, are you hurt?”
She had no idea where Erin had been or with whom. There were no physical marks of harm, but pain, as she knew, could be held deep within. Erin looked completely washed out and appeared barely able to hold herself upright. As if she were a drawing on a page and the artist had simply run the side of his hand over her, smearing her existence.
“I’m okay.” Erin took the tea and sipped it, while patting Jack on the head. He licked her hand for a while and then darted into the kitchen where they heard him rocket through his doggie door.
Erin laughed a little. “I forgot how much I love him.” She grew quiet.
Patricia toyed with the idea of asking the question pressing on her mind: Where’s Liz? But she could sense Erin’s stress. Any extra pressure could drive her away.
Erin smiled, her chin tilted up. “Seeing him makes me miss the Dobermans. Did you know Liz named them after the dogs on Magnum P.I.?” When Patricia didn’t answer, she continued. “Higgins had two Dobermans. Zeus and Apollo. Liz used to love that show, and when she got her dogs she thought of it. Only she named hers Zeus and Ares after seeing just how much like Ares the little puppy was.” Erin again stared off in silence.
Patricia fought off her urge to bad-mouth Liz. “I didn’t think Liz watched television.”
Erin met her eyes. “As a child sometimes it was her only escape. After what happened in the woods, she and Jay didn’t leave the house much. Jay was almost completely agoraphobic and Liz didn’t want to leave her.”
“What happened in the woods?”
Erin looked a little surprised. “You mean you still don’t know?”
Patricia felt herself flush with anger. She had never understood the tight bond between Jay and Liz. “How do you expect us to know anything when we get no cooperation?”
“You’re including me in that statement too, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
Erin had lied and kept things from the department. Patricia had tried to forgive her but she still held some resentment and anger.
“I’m sorry,” Erin said.
“Are you?”
Erin shifted on the couch. “Of course I am.”
“Then tell me about the woods.”
Erin cleared her throat. “It’s not my story to tell.”
“For God’s sake, Mac.” Patricia stood, upset. When Erin and Liz had told them “everything” the year before, they hadn’t mentioned why in Arcane, Alabama, the Adams name was either unknown or very hush-hush. All along, Patricia had suspected a history. Every family had secrets. Maybe theirs would explain why Jay was willing to do anything for Liz. And vice versa. “Look, what happened to Jay and Lizzie is their childhood, their memory, their nightmare. Not mine. I can’t go behind their backs and talk about it.”
“But it has everything to do with what’s going on now.”
Erin looked away. “I don’t think so.”
“Bullshit.”
“This isn’t easy for me.”
“It’s not about you, Mac. It’s about murder. Where the hell is Jay?”
Jack returned, jumping quickly onto Erin’s lap. She stroked him softly. “I don’t know where she is.” She met Patricia eyes. “I swear I don’t.” She continued to pet Jack. Her face took on a far away look, as if Jack’s fur were hypnotizing.
Patricia sighed. “Mac?”
“I’m sorry, I’m just so…lost.” She began to cry. “I’ve been driving around. And thinking.”
Patricia asked the obvious. “What’s going on with Liz?”
She knew Erin hadn’t been with her. Adams had been less than cooperative the night before, telling them to fuck off and then threatening violence. When they’d inquired about Erin, she nearly tore their heads off. The tantrum had landed her a night in jail, where she refused to answer any questions. Carmichael had breezed in, just like always, but this time she had no alibi tape. Adams only was released because they had nothing substantial on which to hold her.
“I left her,” Erin said.
The admission shocked Patricia. It hadn’t been that long since Erin had stood before her and the department and defended Adams. The idea that their relationship was in trouble, or over entirely, was almost unbelievable.
“I’m sorry.” Patricia didn’t know what else to say. While she hated Adams, and had once wished for Erin to be her own, she truly felt bad.
Erin lifted her head, her eyes wet and pained. “Aren’t you going to say ‘I told you so’?”
“I…” Why wasn’t she saying that? Erin was watching her, expecting it. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“Yeah, well, I am. And you were right.”
“I don’t want to be right. That’s not what this is all about.”
Watching her cry, Patricia realized just how much she still cared about her. Erin was in pain and it was Adams’s fault. Her protectiveness kicked in. “Why did you
leave her?”
Erin didn’t answer for a long while. When she did, her face was troubled and ashen. “I don’t think I really know her.”
Patricia felt her stomach rise up to her chest as if she were descending on a steep roller coaster. “Did you find something tying her to these murders?”
“No.”
Patricia breathed out a long sigh. “You’re sure?”
Erin nodded. “She’s been behaving strangely. But she’s not killing people.”
“Strangely how? It’s important that I know. What you think is insignificant may not be to the case.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
“Do you, Mac? Because you’re still keeping things from me.”
“What do you want me to tell you?”
“The truth!”
“You want to know the truth? Well here it is.” Erin stood, her knuckles white as she fisted her hands. “She’s been acting strange. She doesn’t eat, she doesn’t sleep. She won’t tell me why. We argue over everything.” She swayed a little and Patricia stood to steady her but Erin swatted away her hand. “Then last night I caught her dancing with another woman. They were flirting. They were nearly fucking right there in front of me. So I went home and packed my bags.”
“I had no idea,” Patricia murmured, half to herself. They had intentionally pressured Adams, hoping for her to crack and tell them where Jay was. It hadn’t occurred to Patricia that doing so might cause problems for Erin.
“Why would you know? We’re not friends anymore.”
Stung, Patricia said, “You’re wrong about that, Mac. I never stopped being your friend.”
Erin wiped her eyes and her face softened. “I found this number.” She dug in her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “It was in a safe in the closet. I memorized it and wrote it down.” She opened it up and handed it to Patricia. “I found an old photo of Liz and Jay and a large amount of cash with it.”
