A Bad Day for Sunshine

by Jones, Darynda

  “No,” Sybil said, “these are great. Thank you.”

  “Enjoy.”

  When he left, they naturally had to talk about how cute he was.

  “Nursing is an excellent profession to go into,” Sybil said. She took a bite, then added, “He should go back and become a physician’s assistant. They make even more money.”

  Auri took a huge swig of the orange stuff. “I thought about going into medicine.”

  “You changed your mind?”

  “Yeah. I think I’m too much like my mom. I think I need to go into law enforcement.”

  “Really?” Sybil said, shifting to face her better. “That’s fascinating. I don’t think I could do something like that.”

  “Why? You’re good with puzzles. That’s half the battle.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not good with people.”

  “You’re good with me.”

  Sybil beamed at her. “I am, aren’t I?” She took another bite, then said, “Okay, really, one more time.”

  Auri gave in and, after a moment, had her friend sighing in puppy love bliss. Then she sobered. “I’m so sorry about everything that happened to you.”

  Sybil shrugged and ducked, trying to play it off as no big deal when it was anything but. It had haunted the poor thing her entire life, and now it was almost over. This deep fear she’d been waiting for. Auri couldn’t imagine how she felt, and she didn’t pretend to.

  “Do you feel better about it now? Will the dreams stop?”

  “I don’t know. It’s not my birthday until tomorrow. I think I’ll feel better the day after.”

  Auri nodded in understanding and smiled sleepily when Sybil’s lids started drifting closed.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, Auri.”

  “Me, too, Sybil.”

  “Oh, I just remembered something,” she said, her voice getting farther and farther away. “He told me he did everything for my mom. The man who took me. He said she needed to know what it felt like.”

  “What?” Alarm rushed through Auri. She had to tell her mother immediately. And she would have, too, if she could just . . . wake . . . up.

  Sun checked in on the team processing the well house before grabbing Quincy from the station for a coffee and a sandwich at Caffeine-Wah. She’d decided to send Deputy Salazar to watch over Sybil and, if possible, talk to her about what happened. Salazar was a natural; she just didn’t know it yet. She had a way of putting people at ease.

  Unfortunately, there was a flip side to that. Because of her sweet disposition, people often underestimated the young deputy. Hopefully that would change over time.

  Zee met them at the coffee shop, and Richard and Ricky instantly fell in love with the stunning beauty. But that was okay. Zee instantly fell in love with their eyeliner, and Sun realized she might have a way to get the lowdown on the secret sanctum sanctorum of the baristas’ makeup routine sitting right under her nose. Or at her left elbow.

  “How is he?” Sun asked Quincy when they sat down with their food.

  He stopped chewing and spoke through a mouthful of Monte Cristo. “Hell. No.”

  She gaped at him. Her best friend. Her most trusted confidante. “Why ‘hell no’? I’m the sheriff checking up on a detainee in my care.”

  He swallowed. “Nope. You’ll have to go talk to him. I refuse to be a go-between.”

  “But he won’t talk to me. Possibly ever again. And he did actually confess to a murder.”

  “Yeah, to keep his sister out of jail,” Zee said.

  “Please, she had nothing to do with it.” Sun took a bite, then said, “We’re missing something, guys.”

  “Mayo. I forgot to ask.” He grabbed a packet of mayo and sat back down.

  “No. Something much more vital. I feel like our suspect is so close I could touch him.”

  “Like in a carnal way?”

  Fine. When Quincy joked about something so serious, it usually meant he was so frustrated he didn’t know what else to do. She was right there with him.

  Marshal Deleon walked into the shop in all his slick glory. “I knew I’d find you guys here. What’s good?”

  A soft gasp came from behind the counter at the insolence of the implication that there was something on the menu that wasn’t good.

  Sun fought a grin. “Everything here is good.”

  “Fantastic.” He went up to order while Quincy and Zee wiggled their eyebrows at her.

  “Stop it,” she whispered, pretending to be appalled. “You look ridiculous. And he’s probably married.”

  “He’s not,” Quincy said. “I checked.” When both gazes landed on him in surprise, he said, “For Sun. I could tell he liked her.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Zee said, adding a healthy dose of skepticism to her voice.

  “May I?” Deleon asked, and three heads nodded in unison. “Thanks. Great job on the St. Aubin girl. What a coup.”

  “I guess. How is your search going?”

  “Don’t get me started.” He took a sip of coffee, then looked back at the proprietors, clearly impressed with their concoction. “We thought we had a solid lead. Turned out to be nothing, so we wasted a whole day.”

  “Sorry about that.” She considered telling him the truth, but she needed to talk to Darlene first. If anyone would know where Deleon’s fugitive, Ramses Rojas, was headed, it would be Darlene. Sun could pass on the information without ever involving her mom’s best friend. “How long are you staying in the area?”

  The grin he offered her would have melted the knees of a lesser, and less-in-love-with-Levi, girl. Unfortunately, every breath she took seemed to confirm her affliction to a greater degree.

  Still, dude was hot.

  “Trying to get rid of me already?”

  “Not at all. I’m just trying to figure out if that offer for a drink still stands.”

  He was about to take a bite of his smoked salmon croissant. He stopped, his sandwich hovering mere centimeters from his mouth. “Yes, it is.”

  “Great. I’d love a mocha latte with extra whipped cream.”

  His grin turned evil. “Would you?”

  “And chocolate sauce. In the shape of the Mona Lisa.”

  He put down his sandwich to give her a suspicious once-over. “You’re plying me with your feminine wiles?”

  “Not at all. I left my feminine wiles in my other pants. And I very rarely ply in public.”

  “Want to tell me what you are doing, then?”

  “Nothing dastardly. I just thought you might give me the lowdown on the inmate you’re looking for.”

  “Fugitive. The second he escaped, he became a fugitive.”

  “Ah, right. I watched the video of the escape. The footage from the transport van?”

  “Let me guess.” He sat back in his chair. “He didn’t actually participate in the escape. And he didn’t hurt anyone.”

  “It just seemed like a very well-thought-out effort. A coordinated attack. Like it had been planned for weeks. But I noticed in a field report, Ramses wasn’t supposed to be on that transport.”

  “You’re right. He didn’t participate in the hijacking. And he didn’t hurt anyone. But he also didn’t stop them from hurting two of our finest. And he did escape with the others.”

  “Four.”

  He took another sip, wiped his lovely mouth, then asked, “Four?”

  “There were four hardened criminals against one man.”

  “Ouch,” Quincy said, ever the wordsmith.

  “I saw the looks they gave him, Marshal. It wouldn’t have ended well had he tried to intervene.”

  “Are you saying he’s an upstanding citizen and we should just let him go because he’s a good guy?”

  “No. I’m saying, when you do find him, try to give him a chance to turn himself in.” After all, Darlene Tapia wouldn’t help anyone she knew was a danger to society. Sun would bet her last shiny nickel on that.

  “What do you think is going to happen? Do you think I’m going to gun him down in
the street?”

  She grinned, letting the appreciation she felt for him show. “No, I do not, Marshal Deleon. That’s not your style.”

  He grinned back. “I’m glad you noticed.”

  “So,” Quincy said, shifting in his chair, “the sib and I are going to interview Mrs. Usury. She owns the land the well house is on.”

  Sun blinked at him, his words—or more importantly word—sinking in. Sometimes, when a piece of the puzzle fell into place, a jolt of electricity rocketed through her body. Not always, but that rush of adrenaline, that high, was quite addictive.

  Her gaze darted between them, then she asked, “What did you just say?”

  Quincy shrugged. “We’re going to interview Mrs. Usury.”

  Sun closed her eyes. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe . . . she didn’t know, maybe it was just a word. Just a nickname. Maybe Syb meant nothing.

  “What’s going on?” Zee asked.

  It was so thin, so far-fetched, she didn’t want to say it out loud for fear it would disintegrate and drift away. But the dimples, for lack of a better term, on Sybil’s temples matched another set she’d seen recently for the first time in her life. And she didn’t believe in coincidences.

  She grabbed her jacket and said to them, “Meet me at the urgent care center.”

  “Was it something I said?” Quincy asked, scrambling after her.

  She skidded to a halt at the door. Quincy and Zee, who’d been hurrying to keep up, almost plowed into her.

  She turned to them, her mind racing with all the fragments she’d missed, all the clues that were right there in front of her. She’d just never put them together.

  But even now . . . she had to know for certain before she started pointing fingers and making accusations. Then again, what if something bizarre happened and she died in an accident on the way to the urgent care center or she had an aneurysm or the zombie apocalypse was nigher than anyone had imagined.

  She took out her notepad, wrote two words onto a slip of paper, and stuffed it into Quincy’s front pocket. “Do not look at this unless I die unexpectedly.”

  “Really?” he said, unimpressed. “This again?”

  He had a point. She used to pull the very same antics in school, whenever she suspected someone of wrongdoing but didn’t want to call them out in case she was wrong. But back then, it was more of an insurance thing. That way, if she were wrong, no one would be the wiser. But when she was proven right, she could gloat that she’d figured it out first. Win-win.

  Maybe she had been destined for a career in law enforcement, after all.

  Holding up a finger over her lips, she said, “Complete radio silence.”

  They nodded, and she sprinted to her cruiser.

  “Marianna,” Sun said, running up to Sybil’s mom as she swiped her card at a vending machine.

  Before she found Mari, she’d ordered Quincy and Zee to join the guard and Deputy Salazar at Sybil’s room, telling them to allow no one, absolutely no one, entrance until she got there. Then she went in search of Marianna St. Aubin.

  The woman’s face showed signs of severe stress, and when Sun ran up to her like a shopping addict during a fire sale, she thought the poor thing would faint.

  “I’m sorry,” Sun said, holding up her hands in surrender. “Everything’s okay. I just have a couple of questions.”

  Mari put a hand over her heart while Sun scanned the small snack area that had been decorated to look like a piazza in Italy. Absolutely charming.

  “How is Sybil doing?” she asked in the name of social niceties.

  “I just checked in on her. She’s asleep.”

  “Good. Good.” She led Mari to a small table and had her sit. “I have what could be considered a very delicate question to ask you.”

  She laced her fingers around the soda can she’d been drinking from. “All right.”

  “Does your husband have any children from another marriage?”

  “Forest? No. Well, none that we know of.”

  “We? Or you?”

  “What are you getting at?”

  Sun took a deep breath, hoping she was not starting something she couldn’t back up. “I could be wrong. I don’t want you to worry he’s been lying to you, and I would be talking to him about this, but my deputy said your husband had to make a quick trip into Santa Fe.”

  Mari’s lips thinned. “His daughter was almost murdered, but God forbid he miss an opportunity to get his wine into another national chain.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She smoothed her frown. “No, I am. He’s been working so hard. I do understand. And this meeting was set up weeks ago. If he missed it, he may never get a second chance, but some things are just more important, you know?”

  “I do,” Sun said, though she saw his side, too. In Mr. St. Aubin’s eyes, his daughter was safe and sound. He could resume his normal activities without worry.

  If only that were the case.

  “But I have to say,” she continued, “he’s never told me he had a child with anyone else.”

  Sun pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “And . . . you?”

  The flash of emotion on Mari’s face told her everything. She dropped her gaze to the bank card she’d put on the table. After a long moment of contemplation, she swallowed and said, “He doesn’t know.”

  “Your husband?”

  She nodded. “He doesn’t know that I had a child. It was . . .” She cleared her throat and began again. “It was a mistake.”

  “Mari, we all make mistakes. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “I didn’t tell my parents for months, until I could no longer hide the evidence.”

  “How did they take it?”

  She shook her head as though embarrassed. “Anger. Disappointment. Humiliation.”

  “So, not well.”

  “Nope. Not my parents. See, everyone else makes mistakes. My parents are perfection incarnate.”

  “Oh, I think I met them at the fairy ball in Fantasy Land.”

  She chuckled, but the memory was a bitter one. “Two hours after I told them, we were at an adoption agency, filling out papers.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I am. They made me feel so ashamed.” She locked a determined gaze onto Sun’s. “I will never let anyone make me feel that way again.”

  “Good for you. Did you know the father well?”

  “Not really. We’d met at a party. Both of us drunk. He owns a plumbing supply company in Chicago now. Married with three kids.”

  “Did you ever tell him about the baby?”

  She shook her head. “I know what you’re thinking. He had a right to know, but my parents threatened to kick me out. I was only sixteen, and they did not want that boy in our lives. Like it was all his fault.”

  And once again, Sun offered up a silent thank-you to the powers that be for giving her Cyrus and Elaine Freyr.

  “I left home soon after that. They never looked at me the same again. I was lost for so long, and then Forest happened.” Her face brightened as a happy memory bubbled to the surface.

  “I was a waitress working the night shift when Forest St. Aubin walked in. Or, well, stumbled in. He was so drunk.” She laughed at the memory. “I let him sleep it off in a corner booth, then got him a cab when my shift ended. He came back the next night to apologize, and the rest is history.” She looked at Sun then, as though pleading for her to understand. “They didn’t even let me look at him before they took him. The baby.” She dabbed at the wetness on her cheeks.

  “I know what you’re going through, Mari. If you ever need someone to talk to.”

  “Oh, honey, you can’t possibly.”

  She took Mari’s hand. “I can, actually.”

  When her meaning sank in, Mari cupped both her hands around Sun’s. “Did you—? What happened?”

  Sun felt the corners of her mouth tilt up, and she whispered, “Auri.”

  Mari’s hands flew
to her mouth. “Oh, my god. She’s amazing. She’s . . . Should I have kept him? Should I have tried?” A fresh round of tears slid down her face.

  “No, Marianna. You can’t compare your situation with mine or anyone else’s. You did what you had to do.”

  “Wait.” The truth was sinking in at last. “Is he . . . Did—did he do this?”

  Already knowing what the answer would be, Sun brought out her phone and pulled up a picture of one of her very own, Deputy Lonnie Price. Or the man posing as Lonnie Price.

  She angled the phone for Mari to see, and the blood drained from Mari’s face a microsecond before she dove for a trash can by the door. She emptied her stomach as both the heaving and a round of sobs shook her shoulders.

  “Yes,” she said through the sobs. “That’s—He came to my door.”

  “What? When?”

  She wiped her mouth on a napkin, then sat back down. “Sybil was tiny. Maybe four? And this kid rang our bell. His parents were sitting out in a car, and I recognized them from the adoption agency. I knew instantly who he was.”

  “You’d met the adoptive parents?”

  She nodded. “Only once, but they seemed nice. He told me who he was and asked if he could live with me.” Her hands pressed into her mouth, and she sobbed. “What was I supposed to say? Forest didn’t know. I was so afraid he would look at me like my parents did because I’d lied to him.”

  “Mari, this is not your fault.”

  “No, it is. I grieved for him every day and yet, I—I turned him away.” She broke down again. “Is that why he’s doing this? Oh, my god. He doesn’t know what that did to me.”

  “He’s doing this because he’s hurt by his past, Mari. This is not your fault. But right now, I have to find my deputy.”

  She had no choice. She had to leave Mari in agony as she texted Quincy. “On my way. Read the note.”

  Hurrying toward the recovery rooms, Sun turned the corner and saw a stunned expression on Quincy’s face. Zee’s jaw dropped when she read the note, but Sun pushed past them and into the room.

  A tuft of red hair poked out from the blankets on the bed where Sybil slept. Sun scanned the room. Rushed into the rest-room. Turned a full circle, then looked at the state officer who’d been assigned to guard the room.