She stilled and he stilled and it almost became awkward, until he asked, “Is this okay?”
Is this okay? Was he serious? All her schoolgirl fantasies were coming true in one fell swoop. Hell yes, this was okay. But she didn’t want to seem too eager. Too zealous. Too inexperienced.
She cleared her throat softly and whispered, “Yes. It’s okay.”
He kissed her again, then parted her knees with his to give himself more access, and she sucked in a sharp breath when he began to massage her through her jeans. Waves of pleasure crashed into her and around her and through her, the feeling so intense she feared she would climax right then and there.
“Wait,” she whispered against his mouth.
He stopped and squeezed her ass before resting his hand on it to give her time.
While she lay panting in a sea of desire like she’d never known, he seemed to barely be fazed. “Will you remember this in the morning?”
“Depends on how far we take it.” He said it with a wicked smirk, but she also saw a warmth in his eyes. A teasing sincerity. And something else. Hope?
“You Sunshine?” a boy asked. He stood over them wearing a red-and-gold letterman’s jacket.
Sun scrambled off Levi and smoothed her clothes. “Yes. Why?”
“Does he belong to you?” He pointed to Quincy.
“Oh no.” She ran to him. He was leaning against a tree, puking his guts up.
By the time she got him in the car, he’d passed out, and she almost groaned aloud. Her one chance, and Quincy had to give beer a try for the first time in his life, though certainly not the last.
She looked past the bonfire at Levi. He sat against a tree and took a huge swig of the moonshine. Then he looked back at her and raised the jug as though in salute.
She sought him out the following Monday at school. As a senior, she rarely saw him, so it took some effort to hunt him down. Not that she didn’t know his schedule by heart.
She saw him standing with a group of upperclassmen and gathered her courage. Taking it one step at a time, she walked right up to him, but he only spared her the briefest of glances before looking away. As though he didn’t see her. As though she were nothing to him.
She stopped mid-stride, humiliation rushing over her like a wildfire. He hadn’t remembered. Or, worse, he remembered and was hardly impressed.
From that moment on, she did everything in her power to avoid him, both her heart and her confidence shattered.
But that was a long time ago. In the two years after the kiss and before her abduction, they’d adopted somewhat of an antagonistic attitude toward each other. Hers was a classic defense mechanism. His was much simpler. A complete and utter lack of interest.
Shaking off her feelings for him, she walked into the station with a text from Royce Womack. She could only hope he’d have news on the nervous Book Babe, Darlene Tapia, and why she was behaving as though she were trading government secrets for knitting yarn. She was just about to call Royce when Quincy walked into her office.
He leaned against the desk she sat behind. “You know, we’ve talked almost every day for the past fifteen years, and yet we’ve never talked about . . . it. About what happened.”
She put her bag in a desk drawer and turned to him. “And that’s why we’ve talked almost every day for the past fifteen years.”
“Good to know. So, no hits on the partial print.”
“Damn. Any tips at all?”
“Just the usual BS. Poor Anita is fielding most of them. Price was helping, but he got called out to a possible break-in.”
“Where?”
“Well, they’ve mostly been taking the calls in dispatch, but they get up and walk around every once in a while. Get some coffee. Hit the head.” When her expression changed from deadpan to an even deader pan, he said, “Out near the Hudson’s on Route 4.”
“See? Was that so hard?”
“How’s the sprout?”
Sun leaned back in her chair. “I think she’s going to be okay. You?”
“I’m good. Thanks.”
She blinked, letting the fact that she was not impressed shine through in stunning Technicolor.
He got the message. “I agree. I think she’s handled all this really well, all things considered. So,” he said, blatantly hedging, “Levi Ravinder. Didn’t see that one coming.”
“Me neither. Not in my wildest dreams.”
“Did you find out why he never said anything?”
“He said I never tell him anything, so why should he tell me?”
Quincy stood and strode to the window. “That’s a great reason. I should arrest his ass.”
“On what charges?”
“On the charge of being an asshole.”
She chewed on a fingernail, letting everything she knew thus far simmer. “I feel like there’s something else going on.”
“Okay, an asshole and a prick.”
“Like, maybe he really cares for her.”
“Then why keep something like that from you?”
“I don’t know, Quince, but right now, we have to find Sybil. I shouldn’t have spent half the day on anything else.” After scanning the station, she asked, “Anita is awfully young. Are you sure she’s experienced enough to be fielding calls?”
“Nope. She’s just writing everything down and giving it all to Price.”
“Well, that’s good. What about his connections in Chicago? Anything strange about the St. Aubins I should know about?”
“You aren’t going to believe this.” He sat across from her and leaned in. “They are squeakier than the front wheel on a rusted tricycle.”
“That clean, huh? You talk to the father yet?”
“Forest St. Aubin is so racked with guilt for not listening to his daughter all these years, he’s like the weave in a basket case. The governor has called twice, wants you to call him back.”
“You probably should have led with that.”
“They sent a couple of staties to help out Fields.”
“Probably a good idea. Two heads and all.”
She leaned back in her chair again, frustration coursing through her. “I’m missing something.” She took her copy of Sybil’s letter and read it for the hundredth time. “Oh, how’s the sweep of the shed at Estrella Pond going?”
“Good. They’re almost finished. And then all of that is going to have to be processed.”
“Yep.”
“Were you still looking into it?”
“What?”
“Your case. Your abduction.”
“Nah. What was the point? There were no leads.”
“Until now.”
“Until now,” she echoed.
He got up to leave but stopped at the door and said, “So, the no-more-secrets thing doesn’t apply to me?”
She looked up in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not stupid, Sunny. One of these days, you’ll figure that out.”
When he turned again, she jumped up and stopped him with a hand on his arm. She closed the door to her office and gestured for him to sit down.
He released a lungful of air, then sat.
“Of course I’m still working the case, but it’s very sporadic. I haven’t had a lead in years, and I’m just flying blind, but I am working it.”
“Then why lie to me about it?”
“Because you’re my best friend, and I didn’t want to lose you.”
He stood and went to the window again. “What the fuck does that mean? How would your working the case—”
“You think I don’t know?”
Sun could read her best friend like a paperback, so when he stopped breathing, she knew he was growing worried.
He gave an indifferent shake of his head. “What do you mean?”
She walked around her desk and rested against it. “Quincy, I could tell every time I brought the abduction up how uncomfortable it made you feel.”
“That’s bullshit. I’ve been trying t
o get you to talk about it for years.”
“Yes. To talk about what I can and cannot remember about my abductor. About where I was being held. About how I showed up at the hospital. But there were always certain aspects of the event that made you uncomfortable.”
His look morphed into one of incredulity.
She ignored it. “At first, I thought it was the whole pregnancy thing. The rape. I mean, I get it. You’re a guy, and unless you’re actually a rapist, talking about that kind of thing should not give you the warm and fuzzies.”
“Especially when it’s you,” he said with a whisper.
“I know.” She walked to him and lifted her hand to his cheek. He wanted to rear back. She could tell. But he stood his ground. “And I understand that.”
“So, then, what are you talking about?”
She lowered her hand but stayed close. “Quince, do you understand that none of that, nothing that happened to me, was your fault?”
“My fault? Of course. How could it—?” When she offered him her best sympathetic smile, he stopped and turned back to the window. “How long have you known?”
“Took me a while to figure it out. Alarming, since I’m in law enforcement and we speak almost every day. But I’ve known for a couple of years now.”
He scoffed. “Years.”
“And if I do say so myself, I’m amazing at reading people. You’re good.”
“Fuck that.” His voice cracked.
She walked around him, leaned against the wall, and waited for him to get it off his chest. It didn’t take long.
“It wasn’t like I didn’t want you to find out. Once I realized it could actually help the investigation, once I knew a little more about what it takes to solve crimes, I was going to tell you, but it had been so long.”
“Sit down.”
“I’m okay.”
But she led him to a chair anyway and sat in the one next to him. “Quincy Lynn Cooper, I hereby absolve you of any wrongdoing, not that there’s anything to absolve, but I want you to know that none of that was your fault, no matter how much your machismo tells you otherwise. I’m only bringing it up now because I can still tell how much it eats at you.”
His blue eyes shimmered with emotion. “I wasn’t there.”
“I know.”
“I was supposed to be.”
“I know.”
“I bailed on you to go out with Kristen Ulibarri.”
“I know. And really? Kristen Ulibarri? She was a little above your pay grade at the time, don’t you think?”
“And . . . wait, you knew it was Kristen?”
Sun smiled until he figured it out.
“Holy shit, that’s how you found out.”
“I’d suspected for some time, but she confirmed a couple of years ago. She was in town and invited me to lunch. It was like this weight she had to get off her chest. She had to apologize for dragging you away from me that night. For making me go into town alone. It all made so much more sense once I knew that.”
He lowered his head into a hand. “I’m so sorry, Sun. If I hadn’t bailed, you never would have been taken.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
He raised his gaze to her. “What do you mean?”
“This is just like Sybil’s case. He’d been planning it for a while. Why else ask my dad for a ransom? He knew he had money and how much. Like almost to the penny. This was not random and would have happened either way. But your not being there that night was a coup for us, trust me.”
“How?”
“I don’t think the guy was planning on taking me that night. I think he had a much better plan, a much solider plan, but he was getting impatient, and with you not being there, I think he saw an opportunity and took advantage.”
“And how is that a coup?”
“Because it was a last-minute decision. And he made mistakes.”
“What kinds of mistakes?”
“I think he was going to take me in the parking lot before I drove off, but someone must’ve interrupted him. Why else let me get into Dad’s truck and drive off if I’d been drugged? I could’ve wrecked and died and ruined the whole plan.”
“I wondered about that, too.”
“He had to have been watching me for weeks. Maybe he followed me there and saw his opportunity. Seriously, how often were we apart?”
“True. If we were out in public, we were out in public together.”
“We were inseparable. Even my mom said so. I think your bailing on me has given us more clues than we’d hoped for.”
“Like?”
“Like he had to get me out of the truck before someone pulled over to help, right?”
“Yeah, sure, but forensics went over that truck—”
“I’m not talking about the truck. I’m talking about the guardrail I hit. Because he had to let me get in the truck and start to drive home, I hit the guardrail. Because I hit the guardrail, he had to pull over and get me out. And because it was all so unplanned, he didn’t have the opportunity to wait the requisite time for the drug to take affect before he pulled me out.”
“Okay, I’m following you. I think.”
“I’ve been remembering things. Like a dream, but still remembering them. When I pulled over, I don’t think I put the truck in park.”
“Well, you were passing out. It’s easy to understand.”
“Exactly. I remembered the truck creeping forward, scraping against the guardrail, and someone screaming. Then I have an image—a grainy, blurry image—of a man trying to wrap his hand with a towel or something. It’s like I’m in the back seat of a vehicle and he’s driving and cursing up a storm and trying to wrap his hand. And it’s red.”
“His hand?”
“No. Well, yes, but the inside of his car. I remember thinking at least the blood wouldn’t show up too badly because it would match.”
“So, when the truck crept forward, his hand got stuck between it and the guardrail?”
“Yes. I think.”
“You know the likelihood of finding DNA evidence at this point.”
She did, sadly.
Zee knocked on the door, and Sun waved her in. “We got a preliminary on the DB, Sheriff. There were definitely two distinct blood types on the clothes. They’ve sent them off for analysis.”
“Good. Did they say what the types were?”
“The first one, O positive, matches that of Kubrick Ravinder.”
“O positive?” she asked, one theory shot to hell. She took a moment to absorb that, to contemplate what that meant. “They’re certain?”
“As far as I know.”
Sun sat back in the chair. She’d so hoped to have some answers.
“What?” Quincy asked.
“I thought maybe he . . . you know. Maybe he was the one. I mean, the timing is perfect, and I have no doubt I was held there.”
“Well, he was found near Ravinder land. Maybe an animal dragged him there. But how do you know he’s not your guy?”
“The blood type. I’m B negative.”
“Oh yeah, I remember your blood type is really rare, right?”
“Very. But Auri has an even rarer type. AB negative. Only 1 percent of the population has it.”
“Wow. So, that tells us?”
“That means in order for Auri to have AB, her . . . father, for lack of a better term, had to have either A or AB. Trust me, I’ve done the research.”
“Then this certainly fits,” Zee said, scanning the report.
“Really?” A tingling ran up Sun’s spine. “What was the second type?”
“AB negative.”
Sun stood and took the report out of her deputy’s hands. “Are they sure?”
“I’m assuming they know how to type blood.”
“So, Kubrick didn’t abduct me?”
Quincy stood and studied the report, too. “Not necessarily. He may not be Auri’s biological father, but he could have been in on the kidnapping. Maybe he had a partner
.”
“In all actuality,” Zee said, “they both . . . you know, could have.”
Quincy nodded. “But only one could get you pregnant.”
Sun closed the file and handed the report back.
“I’m sorry,” Zee said. “That was callous.”
“It was not. You’re being methodical and honest. And a good deputy. I appreciate all three.”
“Thank you.” Zee started to leave, then turned back. “One more thing. Jack called. Kubrick’s larynx was definitely crushed at the time of death, possibly in a struggle, but the actual cause of death was not strangulation. He was stabbed through the heart.”
“Wow,” Quince said, “he had all kinds of a bad day.”
“And she said they found some kind of ID bracelet in his hand, a metal one with a leather strap. It must have broken off in the struggle.”
“If he ripped off the ID bracelet of his killer and died with it in his hands, I’m buying the next round.”
“It’s very likely, but the name is worn off. They think they can recover it with some kind of chemical compound they use.”
“Well, tell them to hurry.” Sun’s phone rang, and she grabbed it off her desk. “I need to take this.”
They left her alone with none other than the infamous Royce Womack, the man she had surveilling Darlene Tapia and her possible connection to the escaped fugitive Ramses Rojas.
“Hey, Royce,” she said, sinking into her chair.
“You sound exhausted.”
“Long day. Anything to report?”
“Well, yes and no. How well do you know this Darlene Tapia?”
“Fairly well. She’s one of my mom’s best friends.”
“You were right about the chips and the Jeopardy!, but that was all Ms. Tapia. Woman can end a bag of Ruffles faster than I can. By the way, is she married?”
“Royce!”
“Sorry. She’s a very attractive woman.”
“I know, but I thought you were saving yourself for me.”
“Oh, Sunny Girl, don’t even tease me.”
She laughed softly. “So, no fugitive?”
“Now, I didn’t say that.”
Sun sat at attention. “You saw him?”
“I didn’t say that, either.”
A Bad Day for Sunshine Page 27
