Picking up the phone, there was someone he wanted to call. But it wasn’t the sketch artist. He reached to the backseat and the files that were stacked there. Taking Michelle Barlow’s file, he looked at the information sheet on the inside flap and saw the cell phone number for Jessica Barlow.
When he’d first seen her, he didn’t immediately introduce himself. He saw her down the hall staring at a painting and he stood for a moment and watched her. Something about the way she moved, the way she carried herself… When he finally did meet her, his heart nearly dropped into his stomach. She looked familiar but he couldn’t place where he could have possibly met her before.
Despite all his instincts telling him not to, he called her.
“This is Jessica.”
“Ms. Barlow, it’s Detective Garcia. I had some information about your sister’s case that I thought you might be interested in.”
“What information?”
Garcia hesitated a moment. “We should meet in person to go over it. How about tomorrow?”
“Okay. Should I just come to the police station?”
“Yes, around noon if you would.”
“Okay, I’ll be there.”
Garcia hung up and stared at his phone. That was a stupid move. There was no reason for Michelle’s sister to be involved in the investigation. In fact, relatives always interfered. Their emotions were too high and they were unable to look at things objectively.
Garcia put it out of his mind and started the car. He headed home to change into a suit. As he was getting dressed, he stared at himself in the mirror. His appearance had, more and more, begun to resemble his father.
His father had been an actor back in Cuba before the revolution. Garcia’s mother had kept old movie posters and Garcia would always stare at them in wonder that his father ever did anything other than be his father.
His parents were kind and always there for him, even though they had little. Though he knew most men might be disturbed by the fact that they were becoming their fathers, he felt it a privilege. He wished his parents were around now to see the man he had become.
Garcia met Miriam at the restaurant. A ritzy place that he would never have gone to on his own. The kind of place where the maître d’ looked down on him for not wearing a tie. He heard one of the waitresses say to a manager, “Like he can afford this.”
Considering that his suit was an Armani he’d bought while in Las Vegas, he didn’t exactly know what they saw. Just some unwritten rule that he wasn’t one of them, and it was obvious to them in a way he couldn’t perceive.
Miriam was already at the table sipping wine. Garcia kissed her on the cheek and she pulled away.
“You’re late,” she said.
“Sorry. Busy. Never been here for. What’s good?”
“Thomas,” she said, placing her hand over his, “don’t be crude. It’s not polite to ask what’s good.”
He grinned and then realized she wasn’t joking. “How am I supposed to know what to eat if I don’t ask what’s good?”
“I’ll order for you, don’t worry.”
The waitress came and they ordered. Apparently they had little say in the matter. You could chose the red or white meat option and the meal was served in courses based on which one you chose. He ordered the red meat option. The first course was a salad with dressing on it so bitter it could have been straight vinegar.
“Can’t we ever just get a steak and beer?” he said.
“Dining out isn’t about the food. It’s about being seen. You know my charity ball is coming up and I want the right people to see me in the right places.”
“Right. Your charity. What is it this time? Owls? Whales? People who can’t clot well?”
She rolled her eyes. “You just need to show up and look handsome and I’ll take care of everything. Like I always do.”
A long silence ensued as the second course came. A cheese platter with dried walnuts. But it wasn’t like any cheese he had ever had. Again, it was bitter. Almost painfully so. Garcia glanced around and noticed that few people were actually eating it. They would take a nibble and then push it away.
“Let’s get outta here,” he said. “I know someplace great we can go. The Loft. They’ve got this grilled burger with—”
“Thomas, I told you, dining out isn’t about the food.”
“I’m starving. It’s about the food to me.”
Just then, two of Miriam’s acquaintances came to the table. They all put on their best smiles and chatted. All except Garcia who sat there staring at his cheese. He noticed that Miriam didn’t introduce him.
When the couple had left, he said, “You didn’t introduce me.”
“Didn’t I? I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugged, but didn’t say anything.
The third course was a soup that was cold as ice. Garcia took one sip and placed his spoon down. He had to drink a third of his glass of water to get the taste out of his mouth.
“I’m starving, Miriam. Let’s go.”
“Bobby and Suzanne are supposed to be here. I’m not leaving until I see them.”
“Who gives a shit if we see Bobby and Suzanne? Let’s go have dinner. That’s what this was supposed to be. Just us having dinner.”
“Fine, you wanna go. Go. I’ll sit with Candice and her husband.”
Garcia rose. “Fine.”
As he was walking out, she said, “Where are you going?”
He glanced back. He knew anything she felt right now wasn’t a result of his leaving. She was embarrassed that she couldn’t keep her man in a cage in front of two acquaintances she probably saw less than three times a year.
Garcia got in his car and drove around the block. He debated going inside again. She was his fiancée after all and would one day be his wife.
His wife.
Even as he thought it, the word didn’t fit. Not when he thought about Miriam. But he was getting older and had always had an eye toward marriage. Dating was not something he had time for. And he desperately wanted children. The clock, even for men, was always ticking on that.
Slowly driving by the restaurant, he peeked through the windows and saw that Miriam had already sat with the couple that had come over and said hello. She was laughing and sipping at a glass of wine. She’d already forgotten about him.
He flipped a U-turn and headed to The Loft to eat by himself.
11
Jessica stayed in a hotel that looked like an office skyscraper. No parking was available anywhere and she had to use valet.
She slept uncomfortably, waking up several times, and by the morning she felt exhausted. At seven in the morning she finally gave up on sleep and rose. She showered and dressed and went downstairs to the restaurant the hotel had serving breakfast. Sitting in a booth, looking out onto the rain-drenched streets of Seattle, she ordered a coffee and croissant.
The rain was coming down lightly, creating snowflake-like patterns on the glass. It spattered against cars and bounced into puddles. The entire city seemed gray. As if everything was in black and white.
She finished her coffee and called home. The family that had taken in Jacob and Ruth were a nice couple that babysat when Jessica had late nights. They let her speak to the children and the only thing Ruth kept asking was when Jessica was going to come home.
“Soon, baby.”
Though she wasn’t sure how soon. She wasn’t even sure what the hell she was doing out here. Something brought her here, but she wasn’t certain what. Maybe Sarah was right. Maybe emotion controlled us in a way we didn’t even understand yet.
Nine o’clock rolled around and Jessica got into her car and drove to the Seattle PD headquarters. She walked in and told the front desk she was here to see Thomas Garcia. A part of her was excited, and a part of her disgusted. She blamed him for not being able to give her answers. She knew it was petty and unfair, but she couldn’t help it. She needed so
meone to blame right now and he was the closest person to this whole thing.
Garcia walked out in a gray suit with a white shirt, no tie. His shoes were two-tone and shined even though the lighting was dimmer than it was last time Jessica was in here. He looked devastatingly gorgeous. So much so that she felt her heart beating faster.
“Looks like you’re experiencing our normal weather,” he said. “The sunlight from yesterday isn’t exactly the norm. Even though the tourist board claims we sell the most sunglasses per capita in the States.”
“What do you have for me?”
He cleared his throat and glanced to the front desk receptionist, who shrugged. “I’ve got the file. There’s a coffee shop next door. You’ll be more comfortable talking there. Let me grab the file and I’ll meet you.”
The coffee shop was busy, at least busier than Jessica had seen a coffee shop in the middle of the day, and she took a table near a stage with a microphone. It didn’t appear set up for bands, but probably poetry slams or stand up comedy. The coffee shop seemed more like a club than anything.
Garcia walked in and came straight to her table. He sat across from her and placed the file down.
“What?” she said. “You’re grinning.”
“You look uncomfortable.”
“When I was in college I thought I was so experienced. So old. Now I look at these guys and they’re just kids.”
“Funny how that works.”
Her eyes went to the engagement ring on his finger. He seemed to notice and looked down at it as well. Neither of them said anything for a moment and then he flipped open the file. He pushed a drawing near her.
“This is a composite sketch of the last person your sister was seen alive with.”
Jessica picked up the drawing. The man was slender with a light beard. Stubble really. And his eyes were narrow. Placed just a little too close together.
“You think he’s…”
“No. I know this man. It’s a detective by the name of Mark Curtis. He’s in the missing persons unit. Apparently there was an attempted kidnapping of your sister the day she was killed.”
“Kidnapping?” she said, her eyes rising to his.
“Yes. I missed it because the paperwork wasn’t even filed yet. I haven’t spoke to Mark yet about it.”
“Do you know who tried to kidnap her?”
He shook his head. “No clue. But Mark might.”
She placed the drawing down. “You have no reason to help me. But I’d like to come with you. I’m a lawyer and I can… well, I don’t know what I can do. But the thought of going home and doing nothing would kill me.”
He nodded, glancing over to a table filled with students studying something having to do with environmental science. They were arguing about the impact of fracking.
“I understand,” he said. “You can come with me to talk to Mark. I guess it’s only fair you hear it from the horse’s mouth.”
She exhaled, relieved that he had agreed. She thought she would have to be out here by herself, digging up ghosts. It felt comforting to have someone there that she could turn to.
“I’m sorry if I seem curt,” she said.
“It’s understandable. I don’t blame you.”
She leaned back in the seat, scanning the space. “This crowd doesn’t seem like your pace either.”
“It isn’t. But I like the energy. When I need to think I come over here. I just order a coffee and sip it until I’ve solved whatever it was I had a problem with.”
“Did you study here in college, too?”
“No. I went to the University of Miami. I didn’t move out here until I was twenty-five.”
“You seem young to be a detective.”
“One of the youngest in the city’s history,” he said. “Sorry, that seemed like I was bragging.”
“No, that’s interesting. How did it happen?”
He ran his fingers over some nicks and scrapes on the tabletop. “I solved some cases as a uniform that caught the right people’s attention. I had thought, when I first left the academy, that you were promoted based on how good you were. But that’s not what it is at all. I just happened to make a couple people with power happy.”
“You couldn’t have made them happy if you weren’t good.”
“Maybe.” They exchanged glances and both of them smiled. “So, should we go see Mark?”
Jessica followed Garcia back into the precinct. They went to some chrome elevators down a long hallway. Next to the elevators were a set of gleaming steel stairs that people seemed to be sprinting up and down.
“You guys seem busy,” she said.
“Bureaucrats mostly. I’m sure they’ve got some deadlines they’re trying to meet.”
“You’re not interested in rising up the ladder?”
“The ladder’s rigged. I’ve made a few calls that might prevent me from getting to the top.”
The elevator dinged and opened. They stepped on and Garcia swiped an ID badge on a reader next to the buttons. Then he pressed the button for the fourth floor.
“Missing Persons and Robbery-Homicide are the only two divisions here,” he said. “I know Mark pretty well. If he has anything, he’ll share.”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“Sometimes detectives compete with each other. Not all the time. Some of us are happy to give one of our cases over to another division. But sometimes they like to be the ones to make the collar or follow through to the end. They don’t always share information. Mark’s one of the good ones though.”
They stepped off the elevator into a sea of cubicles. Jessica could see a few offices lining the floor, but the great mass of space was taken up by cubicles smack in the center. Detectives and staff were running around, barking into phones, bullshitting with sodas in their hands, or watching clips on Youtube. It was exactly what she had imagined when she thought of a police precinct in a large city.
Rounding a corner, the man from the composite drawing was sitting at a desk, typing on a desktop computer. Garcia came and sat on his desk next to him while Jessica stood a few paces back and folded her arms.
“What’s up Tommy?” Mark said.
“Caught one in common,” he said. “Michelle Barlow.”
“You’re shitting me?”
He shook his head. “Mark, this is Jessica Barlow. Her sister.”
Mark looked to her. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t heard.”
Garcia looked from Jessica to Mark before speaking. “I missed the kidnapping ’cause it wasn’t inputted in Spillman yet.”
“Yeah, I’m getting to that today actually. Sorry, man. I had no idea.”
“Well we’re all up to speed now. I was hoping we could share.”
“Nothing to share. Someone tried to grab her on the street. She got away and snuck into her friend’s apartment building. One of the tenants found her and called us. How was she killed?”
He glanced to Jessica, as though he were getting her permission to speak freely. “She was killed in her apartment… the same night.”
Mark was quiet. “Wow. He went back.”
“That’s the guess. So it’s really important if you got anything.”
He shook his head. “Nothing. She didn’t see anything. He wore some kind of mask. Damn it.” He pushed the keyboard away. “I can’t believe that. I was right there. She said she didn’t have anybody she could stay with so I didn’t think it’d be a big deal if she went home.”
Jessica’s guts tightened again and the anxiety and nausea from the previous few days was back in full force. Her sister didn’t have anyone out here to turn to. Even for a night. The guilt weighed her down so heavily she thought she could fall to the floor right now and not be able to get back up.
“She didn’t have anybody?” Jessica asked. “No friends or a boyfriend?”
“Nope. I mean, nobody that she told me about.”
Garcia said, “It’s not your fault, Mark. All the evidence said this was a random attack. No one co
uld’ve guessed he’d come back. But if you got anything else that can help us…”
“I’ll email you my reports, man, but there’s nothing there. I was just gonna file the case away. Perp wore a mask, no DNA, no witnesses, no enemies she could think of that would do something like this. We were up shit creek without a paddle.”
Garcia rose. “Can I get the name of the guy in the apartment that called it in?”
“Sure thing. I’ll look it up and text it to you.”
“Thanks.”
As they walked away, Mark said, “I’m sorry again about your sister.”
“Thanks,” Jessica said.
When they were back waiting for the elevators, Garcia said, “I’ll go talk to this guy. See what he has to say.”
“I’d like to come, too. I mean, if that’s okay.”
He hesitated. “I really shouldn’t. If anything happens, it means you’re a witness. I don’t want you involved in this anymore than you already are.”
“I can make up my own mind, Detective. And I’d like to help if I can.”
He shrugged. “Fine. You drive.”
12
The streets this high over the city were like coiled snakes. Several times, Jessica had to slam on the brakes to not go skidding off the side of the road. And the people coming down were even worse. They would speed around the corners, hugging them like they were racecar drivers, and wouldn’t slow down for a second. Even to an oncoming car.
“Not too much farther,” Garcia said from the passenger seat.
She glanced to him and then back to the road. “So when’s the big day?” He regarded her with a look that said he had no idea what she was talking about. “The wedding?”
“Oh,” he said, glaring at the ring on his finger as though noticing it for the first time. “No date yet.”
“How come?”
“I don’t know. Just haven’t decided on it yet, I guess. Turn right up here.”
The car took the turn with the tires squealing. Jessica slowed to a crawl as they rounded it before speeding up again on the straight road.
“What about you?” Garcia said. “Husband? Kids?”
Fatal Intimacies (Romantic Suspense) Page 4
