I could not allow myself to succumb to panic. If I did, I would start making mistakes. I needed to think rationally. I took a deep breath and began a mental inventory of my needs. Money would be my first priority. I couldn’t ask Riley, I had already asked for too much. I supposed I could talk to Monica. She adored me, maybe she would help me for Smitty’s sake. Or then again, maybe she would decide I’d done something terrible that involved her husband and was somehow to blame for his death. No, I would have to call Stacy and ask to borrow a few bucks and the spare car I knew she had. Perhaps she could meet me somewhere.
I relaxed a little now that I had a plan. I would hit an ATM on my way out of town, then double back and take another route in another direction. If I got going pretty soon I could be halfway to Canada by tonight. If Canada was where I wanted to go. Right now, I couldn’t think about a destination.
Refocusing on Riley, I said, “I’m taking you to the hospital, or I’m leaving right now and you can pick up your car from Stacy. Which is it to be?”
“I don’t like hospitals,” she said with a faraway expression. “The last time I was in one, someone I care about very much was badly hurt. I hate thinking about it.”
I had assumed that as a therapist she would probably have to work in a hospital, so her comment surprised me. Without thinking, I said, “I’ll go in with you.”
She shook her head. “What if someone sees you?”
“I already have a cap and sunglasses. Give me one of your largest shirts, too. That should throw people off enough so that we can get your hand x-rayed.”
She went to the drawer beneath the bed and opened it with her good hand.
“Nothing too girly,” I said gently, trying to break the tension, but she was so focused on her task that she didn’t seem to hear me.
“How about this?” She held up a plain gray hooded sweatshirt. “You could put the hat over it and no one would even know you were a female.”
I grinned at her sudden burst of enthusiasm. Any self-respecting cop would take a second look at a person wearing a hood under a cap and sunglasses. Soberly, I said, “It worked for the Unabomber.”
She laughed. Not the usually silent shaking but a soft, delicious sound I wished I could hear every day for the rest of my life, even if it only happened across a table with us eating a meal as friends. I told myself to make the most of it. After today, the likelihood of seeing Riley again, as a friend or anything else, was next to none.
*
The small, round Wonder Woman clock on Riley’s dashboard made me smile. As a ten-year-old I had lusted after a similar one that came out of a friend’s Cracker Jacks box. I wondered how Riley’s childhood compared to mine. I wished I had time to ask her. I glanced toward the hospital entrance and almost asphyxiated on the spot as the flashing lights of a passing squad car caught my eye.
“Shit.” I rested my moist forehead on my hands for a minute to catch my breath. “I need to get out of this town.”
A loud honk from a hospital shuttle bus shattered my nerves and I pulled out of my parking spot and drove to a drugstore I didn’t normally patronize. I had planned to send Riley to make the necessary purchases, but I had the urge to move. Staying in the same place for too long made me nervous. The clerk barely even looked at me as she rang up my hair dye. I also purchased a smaller pair of sunglasses, a few toiletries, and a cheap gym bag.
I got back to the hospital just in time to see Riley exit with her arm encased in a bright pink florescent cast up to her elbow. I swung close and pushed open the passenger door like we were making a getaway. She got in without saying a word.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she bit out.
I kept my voice gentle. “What’s wrong?”
“Can you just drive, please?”
I was hurt by Riley’s snippy responses. Well, screw you, too, Riley Medeiros. Who told you to hit that guy in the head anyway? Anyone else and I would have spoken my thoughts and told them where to get off, but I found myself curbing my tongue. “Sure, I’ll have you home in a jiff.”
“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” she said after a few minutes.
“No worries.” I waited to see if she would offer an explanation.
“Did you see the cast?”
“Yeah, so it’s broken, huh?”
“No. Couple of dislocated knuckles.” There was a pregnant pause, then she continued, “I meant, did you see the color?”
I glanced at her quickly and then back at the road. “Yeah, rather loud. Why didn’t they just give you a white one?”
“I think they thought it would be funny.”
“What makes you say that?” I asked, wondering why she was making something out of it.
“I saw how the nurses were looking at me when I came in. And I saw what they said to each other when the doctor told them to get the stuff for my cast. People are so stupid when they think no one can hear them, but I—” She broke off. I had the impression she was irritated at herself. She seemed to think for a minute before she continued. “I can read lips…a little.”
The admission seemed awkward for her, so I didn’t comment on what a useful skill that must be. I’d often wished I could read lips myself. “What did they say?”
Riley sighed and looked out of her window. “It’s not important. Let’s get out of here.”
“Suits me,” I told her, all the time thinking if my ass weren’t in so much trouble, I would go back to the hospital and hurt somebody for whatever they had said or done that made Riley look sad and defeated.
When we got back to the theater, Riley took a couple of painkillers and set the glass down on the kitchen counter with a thud. “I think I’ll take a nap.” She headed toward the weight room.
I hurried after her and said, “Riley, sleep in your own bed. I’ll be leaving soon anyway.”
She took an odd little step sideways and I had to reach out a hand to steady her. Instantly, the almost forgotten night of the kiss flooded back to me. The way she’d held me had made me feel, well, special. The way her mouth had quivered tentatively beneath mine was one of the most erotic things I had ever felt. The alter ego had to pipe up and dash these thoughts before I got carried away. Of course she was tentative, you idiot. She’s straight, and some lesbo had just come up and latched onto her lips like a damn suckerfish.
“I thought you wanted to get some rest before you leave.”
“If I do I’ll sleep on those mats.”
“No, you won’t. I wipe them down after each workout, but still, I sweat a lot.”
I had an instant image of sweat rolling down Riley’s body and onto those mats. I clamped down on my lecherous thoughts. My God, I was turning into a horndog. Well, maybe that was a good thing. When they finally caught my ass, prison wouldn’t be so bad. No problem finding a quickie in there, especially after they found out I used to be a cop.
“Go lie down,” I said. “I’ll get you some more water.”
“I’ve got it. I’m going to have to take care of myself after you leave anyway, right?” she said cynically.
I have to admit I was a bit shocked. Riley had never been anything but sweet with me. I had assumed that was just her personality. “Look, I can stick around here a bit longer if you need me.”
“No, I’ll be fine. You should go.”
I tried to ignore the pain in my chest as she said those words. I thought for sure we were at least friends, but perhaps I was more trouble than I was worth. Thanks to me, she had gotten into fights and possible trouble with the law, and I hadn’t even given her the benefit of knowing the truth. I stared at her distant blue eyes and waited for the pain in my chest to disappear so I could make believe what I felt was heartburn. Instead it embedded itself more forcefully the longer my gaze with Riley remained unbroken. Finally, I had to turn away.
“Your jeans are lying over my computer chair.”
“Thank you.” I couldn’t believe she was kicking me out. Why not, you fool? What are y
ou to her?
“There’s money in that drawer next to the bed. Take it all.”
“I can’t take your money, Riley.”
“I want you to have it.”
“But you’ll need it to get home.”
“I don’t want to risk driving back to northern California until this hand heals a little. I’m sure I can get back on with Stacy for a few weeks. I’ll save some more.”
I didn’t reply, because there wasn’t much more I could say.
“Will you still be here when I wake up?” she asked quietly.
I didn’t know what she wanted me to say, what the right answer to that question was. So I shook my head. “No.”
Her blue eyes searched my face for a moment, and then she nodded and walked away. Making it clear there was nothing else to be said, she didn’t go to her bed but shut herself in the weight room. I gathered my now clean clothes and stuffed what I wouldn’t be wearing into my cheap nylon bag. I folded the shorts up and placed them on her bed. The guns and gun belt I strapped on, and pulled Riley’s sweatshirt over them. I had the vague sense that I should be feeling something, anything other than the cold that cascaded over me when I thought of leaving this place, leaving her. Well, I guess I better get over that, huh? She all but showed me the door.
I went over to Bud’s condo and looked at him sadly for a minute. Riley had put a toilet paper roll inside, and Bud was peering at me suspiciously from inside of it. I told him good-bye and opened the drawer that held the money she’d offered. I took two quarters so I could call Stacy, but I wouldn’t take any more. I just couldn’t bring myself to do that.
So many thoughts ran through my head that I couldn’t make sense of them. Why had her attitude changed so drastically? Had I said something wrong? I let myself out and sat down in one of the ancient theater chairs in the semidarkness. I pretended that there weren’t tears trailing down my face and that I didn’t feel so drained. Maybe she was just tired of all the drama that went along with being my friend.
“My friend?” I murmured to myself.
She was my friend and she was hurting, and I had left her alone. Why? Because I’d never been good at being there for anyone. I never even knew Smitty was having problems. I should have seen that, and I hadn’t. Jarred, I left my bag sitting on the burgundy-carpeted floor and made my way back down to Riley’s place. I found her standing just inside the door with her back to me, staring into Bud’s cage. I touched her shoulder.
Without turning around, she said, “You forgot Bud.”
“No, I didn’t. I thought you might be able to take better care of him than I could.”
“I’m sorry.” She cradled her plaster cast to her body, and I wondered if her hand was hurting.
I gently squeezed both her shoulders. “What for, Riley?”
She finally turned around. She looked incredibly sad. “For being so rude to you.”
“You weren’t rude.”
“I thought you had left.”
“I did. Well, I got as far as the front row of the theater, but then I got lonely.”
“Came back for Bud?”
“No.” Fuck it. What did I have to lose by telling the truth? “I came back for you.”
Chapter Ten
I finally got Riley into bed. Not quite, but I got to sit beside her while she lay down. While she was trying to relax, I kept her wide-awake by telling her about the murder and how I had ruined my life. It was hard, but I answered every question honestly. I wanted her to know what she was getting herself into.
“What about that bag with your prints?” She frowned. “I don’t see where that fits in.”
Neither did I, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. “It’s not like I can go walking up to the captain and say, ‘Hey, I did kill that guy, but I didn’t touch any plastic bag.’” I tried to sound lighthearted, but deep down I was still waiting for Riley to tell me to get out of her life.
“The little boy you saved. Will he be okay?” she asked after a brief pause.
“I don’t know, Riley. His mother is probably going to need to get them both help.”
“What about you? Did you talk to someone?”
I opened my mouth to tell her that I had seen worse, and that “talking to someone” didn’t change the simple fact that I dealt with sick creeps most days of my life. I wanted to say that the whole nasty affair had rolled off my back like water. But innocence is a powerful thing, and when I looked down into Riley’s blue eyes I couldn’t lie to her. “I’m talking to you, aren’t I? That counts, doesn’t it?”
She studied my face for a moment, then said somberly, “Yes.”
“You should get some sleep.”
“I don’t really want to.”
I smiled at her. She looked like a stubborn child who had just been told it was her bedtime. I only wished I had told her a fairy tale and not something that could cause her nightmares.
“You’re not going to leave, are you?” she asked.
“No. No, I’m not going to leave. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Riley even slept like an innocent—on her back, mouth slightly open and body splayed out like she hadn’t a care in the world. I usually slept like a criminal, balled into a fetal position with one hand under my pillow where my gun was often hidden. She deserved better than I could give her.
Deep in the recesses of my mind, something told me that I should go. That if I really cared for Riley, I would go so she could be safe. I watched her smooth, even breathing for what seemed like forever. Under my gaze, her white T-shirt slowly rode up over the exquisitely sculpted, tanned muscles of her tummy. I felt excruciatingly sad. Sad because I knew, with a certainty I could not explain, that Riley Medeiros would be hurt when I finally did leave. I stared at that tummy, and I felt an overpowering urge to protect her. I bent a little lower over her, half expecting her to awaken, but she didn’t, she continued to breathe evenly. Carefully, I reached down and drew her T-shirt back down over her stomach. I resisted the urge to kiss her forehead.
Unsettled, I left her on the bed and sat down at her kitchen table. I moved my chair around a little and stretched out my legs. It made me strangely content sitting there, watching over her while she slept.
*
At some point, I must have rested my head on my arms and fallen asleep. I was rudely jerked awake by an unfamiliar sound. Out of habit, my hand went to the back of my waist where I wore my guns as I looked around frantically for trouble. I ignored the residual pain of my ribs as my fingers wrapped around the handle of my gun. The sound was repeated, and I realized that someone was tapping at the door. I could hear my name being called softly. The voice was unmistakable.
“Marcus?” Horrified, I checked that he was alone and let him in. “What are you doing here? Are you crazy?”
“Stacy told me where you were. We have to talk.” Before I could object further, he said, “I’ve been doing some research since those two cretins absconded with one of my computers and trashed my filing system while they searched your desk.”
“Aw, Marcus, damn.” I could understand why he came by instead of phoning me. Marcus knew how paper trails worked. A phone call between us would create a record that could later put him in the frame for obstruction of justice or accessory. But I wasn’t happy that he was taking risks on my behalf. “You can’t be snooping around in shit, okay? I don’t want them pinning any of my mess on you.”
“They don’t know we’re friends. Besides, I’m the only one with the file maintenance codes for the databases. I can erase my tracks.”
I was starting to get a migraine. Marcus wanted to play Hardy Boy, which would probably get us all in a lot more trouble than any of us was prepared for. “I appreciate what you’re doing,” I said. “I really do. But there are some things you don’t understand.”
“Which is why I’ve been getting to the facts,” he said patiently. “It’s the weirdest thing, but they are keeping everything really hush-hush. I mean, no one knows wh
at’s going on. The official version is you went ballistic over Smitty’s death and the captain made you take some time off.”
I frowned. A cop gone bad is usually the only topic of conversation, especially if that cop is someone you work with every day.
“So, anyway, I checked the arrest warrant for you. And get this, it’s issued by a Judge O’Malley the day after they tried to pick you up.”
O’Malley? Why did that name sound familiar? It took me a minute to remember that Judge O’Malley had issued the warrant to arrest Canniff. He was also a friend of the captain’s. She was probably sitting in her office salivating like Pavlov’s dog at the prospect of nailing my ass.
“I can’t believe those two trolls didn’t even bother to get the arrest warrant before they came to pick me up.”
It wasn’t the first time LAPD detectives rushed to pick up a suspect without a warrant, but I was surprised they would do that with me. Any cop being arrested would insist on seeing a warrant. Unless…
“Shit. They never intended to take me into custody.” How my thoughts got from point A to point B is beyond me. But it did occur to me that one of them had mentioned that he wanted to get home in a hurry. Bringing me in and booking me properly would probably have meant hours of paperwork, and it was already late when they came to my door.
Marcus seemed to have reached this conclusion already. I could tell he was enjoying himself, taking a turn at detective. It made me sad because his enthusiasm reminded me of Smitty’s. He’d loved when a case suddenly got interesting.
“That bag that was supposedly wrapped around Canniff’s head when they pulled him up. I can’t find anything about a bag in the coroner’s report.”
“Oh my God,” I breathed. “His wife couldn’t identify him. They had to base the ID on a tattoo. His face was annihilated by the water and whatever was nibbling on him down there.” Realization washed over me with the relief of a high colonic. “Smitty didn’t beat Canniff’s teeth out in order to protect me. So where did the plastic bag come from?”
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