“Do you talk with your parents anymore?” Josie asked.
“When Dad called a few days ago to tell me about Ferris? That was the first time I’d talked to him in five years.”
“Did your dad mention anything about health issues that Ferris had?”
Julia frowned. “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
Josie glanced at Susan, who was sitting quietly, occasionally jotting down a note in her notebook.
“Ferris tested positive for HIV.”
Julia squinted her eyes at Josie and leaned forward, as if not hearing her correctly. “What? HIV?”
“The coroner confirmed with the blood test.”
“Oh, Ferris.” She whispered his name and gazed out the long window facing the street. The bright afternoon light made her face appear even paler. “I talked to him every week on the phone, sometimes a couple times a week. He never mentioned it. Not even a hint that he was sick.” She looked back at Josie. “Why are you telling me this? You think it had something to do with his death?”
“You know his body was found at Billy and Brenda Nix’s house? We found him after the fire?”
“Dad said he was burned in the wildfire. He told me about the Nixes.”
“Do you think Ferris was having a relationship with Billy?”
She picked up her hands and dropped them back onto her lap, her expression helpless. “I’m sure he was. Billy seemed to be his latest obsession. Ferris only obsessed over someone until he gained their love, or their approval. Once he found love, he lost interest. I’m sure a shrink could write volumes about our family.”
“I guess what I’m wondering is, could someone else have found out about the relationship with Billy and killed Ferris out of revenge? Or, maybe they found out about his HIV status and killed him because—” Josie hesitated. It was a cruel conversation to have with this woman, but Julia knew Ferris better than anyone, and Josie hoped she might have an idea of who might hold a grudge.
“You think Ferris might have passed HIV on to someone else who killed him when they found out?”
Josie said nothing.
“I can’t answer that,” Julia said.
“I’m sorry to bring something like this up. We’re just really struggling to find out what happened.”
Julia just nodded once. Her expression had turned angry and Josie knew she had offended her. Josie stood and put her hand out, stepping forward to Julia so she would stand as well.
“I want to thank you again for talking with us today. I want you to know we’ll do everything we can to find out what happened to Ferris and to find justice for him. If you think of anything at all, please call me. Day or night. And I’ll be in touch about the investigation.”
* * *
After Julia left, Josie and Susan spent another two hours collecting letters and financial papers, and searching each of the rooms inside the house. Other than prescription medicine that Cowan confirmed by phone was used to treat HIV, they found little more in terms of new evidence. In the end, their original summation of Ferris stood firm. He was a playboy with enough funds to live comfortably on his own and enjoy the games of life as he wanted to play them. Any number of people could have had the motivation to kill Ferris Sinclair.
NINETEEN
Josie followed Otto out the police department door at six o’clock, arguing with him over her plans for the evening. He was convinced her social life needed a boost, and he couldn’t accept that she didn’t want to participate in the same activities as he did.
“People hear the word polka and they prejudge,” Otto said. “If you’d give it a chance once I think you’d enjoy it. You’d like our friends too. And there aren’t just old people there. There’s young people, your age even.”
“Seriously. I just want to go home and relax,” she said. “I’m happy with a night on the couch.”
“It’s Saturday night! A young woman your age ought to be out socializing. Meeting people.”
Josie unlocked her car door. “Tell Delores you did your best, but you just couldn’t make me budge. You guys have fun tonight.” She waved and got into her car. She loved Otto, but his persistence annoyed the hell out of her at times.
Before she pulled out of the parking space she checked her cell phone: a missed call and voicemail from Nick Santos. The hostage negotiator’s name caused an instant spike in her heart rate and a dread of what was to come. She’d not heard from him in over three months, when he’d filed a final report on the kidnapping and provided an update on the Medrano cartel. The word on the street in Mexico was that the Medranos had recovered the millions in stolen drug money that had been tied to Dillon’s kidnapping. Nick had explained this story was the Medranos’ way of saving face, and ultimately, the approach had most likely saved her life. They’d had no reason to retaliate if they had recovered their money. But in reality, the money had actually been remanded to the feds the night they had recovered Dillon.
Nick had stressed that Josie should not travel to Mexico. He felt the Medranos had bigger issues at home to deal with than traveling to the United States to kill a police officer. But she also realized the cartel’s leader, the Bishop, could have killed her years ago when he’d had the opportunity. On her darker days she acknowledged to herself that she was alive because he wanted her alive. She was a pawn to him in a game that she didn’t fully understand.
Josie dialed Nick’s number hoping for something other than disaster.
“Josie!”
She smiled at his voice. He lived in Mexico as a kidnapping negotiator but he had been born in South Texas and had spent most of his life in the U.S., including a stint in the military and eight years as a city police officer in New Jersey. He still had traces of the Jersey accent and the tough mannerisms of a street cop.
“Hey, Nick. How are you?”
“I’m okay. Listen. I’m coming through Artemis this evening. I’m staying in Marfa tonight. On my way to a job in Alpine tomorrow. Thought I’d stop in and buy you supper.”
“Oh!” Her mind went blank. It wasn’t at all what she had anticipated.
“Don’t sound so happy about it. Bring Dillon. I’ll buy you both dinner at that Tamale place. I’ve been craving a fat burrito.”
“Well, Dillon won’t be coming. He’s left.”
“What do you mean he left?”
“He left me. He’s moved back to St. Louis to start a new life.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
“I bet you have statistics that would have predicted this,” she said.
“Okay. So let me buy you dinner without Dillon.”
She laughed at his inability to accept anything but yes. “Okay. Dinner would be nice.”
“See you in an hour?”
“That’ll work.”
Josie glanced at her watch. It would give her just enough time to get home, shower, and dress.
At precisely 7:00 p.m., Nick Santos pulled into her driveway in the same black Lexus SUV that had been parked in her driveway while he lived at her house during the negotiation. Nick had moved in, commandeering her spare bedroom as his own and using her dining room table as a workstation. But he had been neat, polite, and stayed out of her way as much as the situation permitted. Josie had grown fond of Nick and valued him as a professional and as a friend.
Josie dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a white camisole top, and dried her hair and put it up in a messy bun. She never wore makeup, but she did take the time to apply lip balm. As she looked in the mirror at her shiny lips, she thought it felt a little like playing dress-up.
She realized she had butterflies in her stomach and tried to blame it on the idea of spending an evening with a man she didn’t know very well. But that wasn’t exactly true. She had lived with him. He had seen her at her absolute worst and probably at her best. They knew each other in the extremes, but hardly at all in everyday life: she had no idea what kind of music he liked, what he did in his spare time, whether he liked sports or art or driving f
ast. What she did know was that he was a hell of a negotiator, and he was committed to his work above all else.
Josie smiled as she opened her front door to greet him.
“Hi! It’s good to see you!” She smiled and watched him walk up. He wore jeans, black work boots, and a white T-shirt that fit snugly around his biceps. Nick was a stocky, well-built man by nature, and he also worked out daily to stay in shape for the job. He had short black hair, reminiscent of his days in the service, and black piercing eyes: a man born for law enforcement.
He smiled back at her and she blushed as he took her in. “You look beautiful.”
She laughed, unsure how to take the compliment. “Come on in.”
They walked inside and Chester trotted over to him, lifting his big brown eyes as if expecting Nick to offer something more than a pat on the head.
“What, I have to bring you treats to visit?”
Chester walked away and slumped back down on his rug, his eyes closed within seconds. Josie imagined the dog had been hoping for Dillon.
“What brings you this way?” she asked. They walked into the living room and sat down next to each other on the couch.
“A kidnapping in Alpine. A retired oil executive from Exxon.”
Josie felt her skin grow cold and she saw the realization in Nick’s expression.
He looked away from her and pointed back to the door, trying for a quick change in conversation. “You gonna take me for a burrito? I’ve been craving one for months now. I have to come to Texas to find a Mexican burrito. My father would disown me if he heard that.”
* * *
When Josie and Nick arrived at the Hot Tamale, Lucy was standing at the door smiling. She opened the door and ushered them into the diner.
“You back to visit us? I missed you! So many burritos you ate! Remind me, what’s your name?”
He grinned. “Nick. I’m Burrito Nick.”
“Yes, yes!” She looked at Josie. “And my favorite cop too. Come in and sit down anywhere. I’ll get you menus and two Dos Equis. Yes?”
Josie nodded. “Perfect. Thanks, Lucy.”
They sat at Josie’s spot by the front window.
“You’re still her favorite, huh?”
“Until another cop walks in and takes my place.”
Lucy set two opened Dos Equises on the table, sweat already dripping down the labels. “You want me to order for you? I know what you want already.”
Nick grinned again. “You are the ultimate waitress. You take all the work out of being a customer. Whatever you bring me will be outstanding.”
Josie gave Lucy a thumbs-up and she disappeared. Twenty minutes later she returned with plates with massive chicken burritos piled high with lime rice, salsa, and pico de gallo so hot it made Josie’s tongue ache.
Josie caught Nick up on the local politics and Mayor Moss’s latest antics. She discussed the murder of Ferris Sinclair and Billy’s suicide. Nick avoided talk of the Medranos, saying he didn’t want to ruin a nice evening. Instead he talked about the vacation he took to Belize after he finished with Dillon’s case. He’d spent two weeks there with his younger brother hanging out on the beach, reading and sleeping.
Josie was surprised at how comfortable the evening was. Even the ride back to her house was filled with easy conversation. She realized she wasn’t nervous at all—until they pulled into her driveway, and things suddenly became more complicated.
Nick turned off the car and got out when Josie did. He didn’t ask if he should come in, and she wasn’t sure how to respond. While she wanted Nick to follow her into the house, she had no idea what to do once they entered.
Standing in front of the door, Nick grabbed her wrist as she started to press her code into the security pad. Surprised, she turned slightly and found Nick behind her, his chest pressing into her back.
“Let’s see how good of a cop you are,” he said.
He reached around her and pressed the first number of a six-digit code. She had given him the number when he was staying at her home during the negotiation. She smiled. The day he moved out he had told her to change her security codes. He pressed the remaining five numbers and the tumblers clicked and whisked and the door opened just an inch, allowing him access into her home.
His head was just behind hers. He whispered into her neck. “Josie. You don’t follow directions very well.”
She pushed the door open, grinning.
The light from the table lamp in the living room cast a soft white glow across the room. She laid her purse on the coffee table and offered him a drink.
“You don’t want to deaden your senses.”
She turned from the coffee table to face him, smiling still. “What does that mean?”
“It means you need a clear head tonight.”
“I always heard, a cop should never hook up with another cop.”
“I'm not asking you to marry me.”
“What are you asking for then?”
“I'm asking you to kiss me.”
She hesitated. “Dillon hasn’t been gone that long. It’s too soon. It's—”
“Too soon for what? To feel happy? To enjoy life for an evening?”
Josie felt her face turn hot. “I’m no good at this.”
He put his hand out and she took it. He turned and led her down the hallway and into her bedroom, where he unlocked and opened the window. She stood at the end of her bed feeling like a high school girl.
A breeze fluttered the curtains. The moonlight cast long shadows across the white blanket and sheets. The smell of the night desert filled her bedroom and she took in the scent. He stood in front of her but didn’t touch her.
“I’ve thought about you almost every day since I left here,” he said.
Josie didn’t know what to say. She’d thought of Nick, but mostly in terms of the job he had performed. She had been so caught up in her own drama that any other feelings were silenced.
“I know this room like it’s a room in my own home. I imagined any number of people coming in here. I imagined saving you a hundred different ways. I would have laid down my life for you in a heartbeat.”
She breathed in suddenly, his words catching her off guard.
Nick ran his hands up her arms and stepped closer, the heat of his body on her skin.
“I’m no good at this,” she said again. “The romance and all of this just eludes me.” As the words came out she felt ridiculous. He made her nervous. He was out of her league on so many different levels. With his back to the window his face was in shadow, but she could sense the smile on his face.
“Do you trust me?”
She thought for a moment and had no other answer but “Yes.”
“We all have talents, right?”
She nodded, smiling again.
“Romance is a talent of mine. Let me show you how it works.”
“You’re going to school me in the ways of romance?”
He laughed. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“Tell me what the first lesson is, and I’ll consider it.”
“Okay. Number one, stop thinking about romance like a cop.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Think about your words. Eludes? School? Lesson? These are not words that a man associates with lovemaking.”
She laughed and felt his hands pulling her shirt out of her jeans, slowly, the fabric sliding against her skin like silk.
“Here’s the problem. You’re asking me to be unanalytical. I should be free to think any way I want.”
“Josie.” He ran his fingertips up her arms. “This doesn’t have anything to do with thinking. It’s all here.” He touched a fingertip to her chest. “You feel it, you don’t think it.”
He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her around. “You said you trust me.”
She nodded once.
He lifted her shirt up over her head and dropped it to the floor. He pressed his thumbs into the sides of her
spine, slowly working down her back, whispering her name and kissing her neck until her thoughts faded away.
TWENTY
At seven o’clock that evening, Marta stumbled out of bed to stop the buzzing alarm clock going off on her dresser across the room. Following the debriefing meeting with Josie and Otto that morning, she had gone back home to putter around in her cactus garden behind her house. She had finally lain down at noon to get a restless seven hours’ sleep before her shift that night. Marta loved her job, but the shift work kept her from ever feeling truly rested.
By the time she arrived at the Hell-Bent, at eight o’clock, she found a sea of pickup trucks parked helter-skelter in the field behind the parking lot. Marta had never seen it so packed. Hank needed someone directing traffic or she would end up with a half dozen accident reports to write up before the night was over. She went inside and offered to park cars for Hank, who seemed beyond overwhelmed and appreciative of any help he could get.
“This is insane, Marta. I’ve never seen so many people, and it’s still early. I hate to do it, but I may have to turn people away before it’s over. The fire chief will shut me down if I get too many more people in here.”
They both looked out across the dance floor, which was filled with people milling around in groups, laughing and crying and drinking beer. “I’ll call the sheriff’s department and see if we can get some deputies over here tonight,” Marta said. “You’re going to need it.”
After calling the sheriff’s department for backup, Marta walked the parking lot with her clipboard and paper. Parking cars was a good excuse to get the information Josie had requested. Marta wrote down the make, model, and license-plate number of every dark-colored, four-door truck in the lot. By ten o’clock she was caught up with the list of plates and was helping the deputies park the vehicles in the field in rows.
By one in the morning, Marta had a list of twenty-four trucks that fit the description, and she’d arrested two drunks for disorderly conduct: a productive night. Two deputies agreed to continue working the parking lot and taking names. Marta dropped the list off at the police department and clocked off at 2:00 a.m.
Firebreak: A Mystery Page 20
