by Gerri Hill
“You know, it’s funny. Michael really has never had much to say about my job in the years I’ve known him. Not until the other night when he found out my partner was another woman. Then he started on the shouldn’t at least one of you be a guy in case you need to shoot somebody argument,” she said.
“You’re kidding?” Tori shook her head. “Men,” she murmured, which drew laughs from around the table.
Casey nudged her with her elbow, then wiggled her eyebrows teasingly. “I’ll be the guy.”
Leslie laughed. “Only if you beat me to it.”
They all reached for chips at the same time when their waiter placed the basket within reach.
“Mmm, excellent salsa,” Leslie said as she sampled from both the red and green bowls. “There’s this little dive in Fort Worth—El Lugar—and they serve only wrapped burritos. I think eight different varieties. Anyway, their green salsa is to die for.” She glanced at Casey. “Their margaritas aren’t so hot though.”
“Well, then what’s the point?”
“Do you like Dallas? I mean, compared to Fort Worth,” Sam asked before biting into a chip.
“You wouldn’t think the attitudes of two cities could be so different, would you? I was in Homicide there six years, with pretty much the same guys the whole time. I think I did a good job, despite the limitations. To the public, equality was the word. But in my squad, I was the woman, period. They politely held doors open for me, and were quick to pass me their empty coffee cup for a refill.”
“How did you stand it?” Tori asked. “I would have shot someone.”
She laughed. “The thought did cross my mind. But after six or eight broken coffee mugs, they learned to get their own, so I didn’t have to pull my weapon.”
“Ladies, here we go. Three Rios Ritas and a…beer,” he said, eliciting a dour look from Hunter. “Have you decided on dinner?”
Casey turned to her, eyebrows raised, and Leslie nodded. “Yes, I’ll try the famous chicken enchiladas.”
“Us too,” Sam said.
“All the way around,” Casey said. “Thanks.”
“You were right. This is fabulous,” Leslie said, sipping from her drink.
“Mmm, we don’t come here enough,” Sam said.
“Not for lack of my trying,” Casey said.
Sam grabbed another chip and loaded it with salsa, but paused before eating. “By the way, what do you think about us buying a house?”
Casey’s eyebrows shot up and she stared at Tori. “What?”
Sam also glanced at Tori. “You didn’t tell her?”
“No. And this is why.”
Casey looked from one to the other. “You guys want to move? Like away from me?”
“Not far, Casey.”
“But still.”
Sam reached across the table and squeezed Casey’s hand. “Not far, I promise.” She looked at Leslie. “We live on White Rock Lake, as does Casey. But we’re in an apartment and Casey is in this cute little house.”
“Little being the key word,” Casey said.
“Aren’t homes around there expensive?” Leslie asked.
“Well, there’s the good side of the lake and the bad side.”
“Currently, we’re on the cheap side,” Casey said.
Sam leaned forward and smiled at Casey. “How does the country club sound to you?”
“Oh, my God! You’re not serious?” She stared at Tori. “The country club, Hunter? What the hell?”
“I told Sam as long as we were still near work and still near the lake, I didn’t care.”
“Yeah, but the country club?” She lowered her voice. “Do they allow lesbians there?”
Leslie laughed, enjoying the conversation.
“We found a house that’s somewhat reasonable,” Sam said. “And compared to the prices of those new homes they’re building on the north side, this is like a bargain.”
“But the country club. That’s just not right.” She tapped the table with her fingers. “So like, we have to take up golf now?”
“I doubt they’d let you and me out on the course, O’Connor.”
Casey grinned. “Yeah, but we could ride around in a golf cart, drink a beer or two, and check out the ladies. You know, drive by the pool, things like that.”
Sam grabbed Tori’s arm and laughed. “You will not.”
Leslie found herself laughing along with them, then was surprised to find her shoulder pressing playfully against Casey. “Sounds like you’re a troublemaker,” she teased.
“Me?” Casey grinned. “Not at all.”
“Don’t believe her,” Sam said. “Get the two of them together and they’re quite a handful.”
Leslie sipped from her drink, thoroughly enjoying the evening and the company. They made her feel at ease and never once excluded her from the conversation, always making it a point to explain to her what they were talking about. By the time dinner was served, they were all chatting like old friends. And she remembered what Casey had told her about Tori and Sam. All you had to do was take one look at them and know they were deeply in love. Sam’s hand was never far from Tori, touching her frequently when she talked. And Tori, well Casey was right. She turned into a big mush ball around Sam. It was obvious how much they cared for each other.
She let her eyes drift to Casey, again wondering why she was alone. She was delightful to be around, charming and funny, talkative. Why hadn’t she found someone to love?
Casey turned then, meeting her eyes. Leslie was surprised by the gentle gaze. She returned her smile, then motioned to the stack of hot tortillas with her head. “May I?”
“You may, Detective Tucker,” Casey said with a grin, grabbing one and handing it to her. “Okay?”
“Excellent.”
Chapter Thirteen
“I can’t believe you hung out here over the weekend,” Leslie said.
“Why not? I’m the only one without a life,” Casey said as she pulled into a parking space.
“It’s not like I was doing anything exciting. You could have called me.”
“No sense in both of us driving around until midnight. Besides, I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.”
“And there were no Peeping Tom calls from this area.”
“So there you go. A wasted weekend stakeout.” Casey stretched her legs out and tried to get comfortable. It would be a long three hours. That was the plan, anyway. She and Leslie would take Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Hunter and Sikes would take Tuesday and Thursday. They would decide weekends later, but Casey wouldn’t mind volunteering. Like she’d said, she was the only one without a life, even though it was boring as hell over the weekend by herself.
Leslie unfolded the spreadsheet she’d brought along, then pointed her small penlight at it. “Did you do Brookhaven?” she asked.
“Yeah, but it requires walking. The parking lot is away from the building. But the interior common area opens up to all the ground floor units.”
“Sliding door patios?”
“Yeah. Brookhaven is one of the most accessible. We can go there next.”
“We thought Creekside would be tough,” she reminded her. “Did you check it out?”
“Yeah. Ground floor units, but they all have tiny privacy fences around the patios, so you can’t see in. And all the front doors face the opposite building. I don’t think our guy is going to target Creekside.”
“And I’m sure you did Twin Peaks,” she said with a smile.
“I did. And I don’t think our guy will choose a Friday or Saturday night for his business. There’s just way too much activity. He would have a hard time sneaking around. Not to mention, most people are out on Friday and Saturday nights.”
“The first murder was on a Monday night, the second on a Sunday.”
“Yes, the two quietest nights. Yet most of our Peeping Tom calls have been on Wednesdays and Thursdays.”
Leslie folded up the spreadsheet and put it aside. “Maybe that’s when he’s doing h
is surveillance. And it’s just going to be a matter if we luck upon him.”
“Afraid so.”
They were quiet and Casey let her eyes slip closed for a second. She was tired. She’d been out until midnight the last two nights cruising around the apartments. By the time she’d gotten home and taken time to unwind, it’d been nearly two before she crawled into bed. Unfortunately, her internal clock had her wide awake by five thirty, the normal time she got up.
“I really enjoyed dinner with you guys the other night,” Leslie said after a while.
Casey opened her eyes and rolled her head along the seat. “Yeah? Good.”
Their eyes met for a moment. “You’re exhausted.”
Casey nodded. She was too tired to lie. “Yeah, not a lot of sleep this weekend.”
“You surely didn’t patrol around here all night, did you?”
“No. Just until about midnight.” She sighed. “I’ve got the habit of…well, to unwind, I sit out on my deck in the dark and watch the lake, and just enjoy the quiet and all.” She closed her eyes again. “And maybe a couple of glasses of wine.”
“That’s your ritual? Before bed, you sit outside in the dark?” She leaned back against the seat. “I think that sounds wonderful.”
Casey smiled. “Yeah. Being on the lake reminds me of happier times,” she said quietly. “My grandfather had a place out on Lake Fork. When I was younger, we used to go out there.”
“But to hear you tell it, you have no family. I think you chose the no option on siblings.”
“Is this your subtle way of fishing for information?”
“Is it working?”
Casey straightened up in her seat and rubbed her face. “I guess we should talk or I might fall asleep on you.” She cleared her throat. “What do you want to know?”
“You already told me your mother is in California and you’re not close, but you drew the line when I mentioned siblings.”
“I did, didn’t I?” She tapped the steering wheel absently, her mind flashing back over the years, snippets of events and conversations running by at lightning speed. She’d told Tori and Sam about her life. Before that, she hadn’t really told anyone, not the whole story anyway. It was still a painful memory, but not talking about it wouldn’t make it go away. She felt warm fingers caress her forearm before squeezing. She glanced over at Leslie, wondering why her touch caused her heart to quicken its pace.
“I don’t want to pry, Casey. If it’s something you’d rather not talk about, then tell me to mind my own business and we’ll move on to lighter topics.”
She met Leslie’s eyes in the shadows, surprised by the gentle concern she saw there. She waited, feeling an odd sense of loss as Leslie’s fingers slipped away from her. “I have a brother,” she said. She sighed again, feeling how heavy it was. “He’s ten years older than I am.” She swallowed, trying to get the lump out of her throat. “And we were very close at one time.” She reached for the binoculars, watching a man walking his dog. She lowered them again and smiled. “I saw that guy last night too.” She drummed her fingers on her leg, wondering where to start with her story. “I had a pretty crappy childhood,” she finally said. “My parents hated each other. They fought constantly. Hitting, screaming, fighting. All the time.” She glanced at Leslie. “I thought that was what married life was all about, you know. I just thought everybody’s parents did that.”
“Your brother was still home?”
“Until I was eight. He and three buddies got an apartment when they went to college. He just went up to Denton, so close enough to home. Anyway, it got worse when Ryan left. He was a big guy. He was a buffer.”
“Why did they stay together?”
“Oh, they split up once, when Ryan was young. But they got back together.” She pointed at herself. “I’m the result of that wild night. I’m pretty sure that’s the last time they slept together,” she said with a laugh. “It was all so weird, you know. During the week, it was holy hell with them, but every Sunday morning we’d get all dressed up and head to Mass. And Sundays were always the best days. It was like they called a truce on Sundays. But that ended too. And the divorce was nasty. Restraining orders and accusations and more fighting. And in the end, the judge awarded custody to my mother and my father was not allowed visitation because of the alleged abuse.”
“I’m so sorry,” Leslie said. “When you said painful, I had no idea.”
“I’m not even at the painful part, Les. That happened as an adult.”
“I don’t understand.”
“My father never hit me. He hit my mother a few times, but the way they would go at it, I can’t really blame him. I mean, she used to beat the hell out of him.”
“Would you have rather gone with your father?”
Casey shook her head. “I loved and loathed them both equally. That wasn’t really an issue. And anyway, Ryan would come get me on the weekends—most weekends—and take me to Lake Fork and we’d stay with my grandfather. That was the only time I felt normal, you know. There wasn’t any fighting. There were no conflicts. I was just hanging out with my big brother. And even when he got married, he still came and got me. I was fourteen then, I think. Anyway, he had a couple of kids and I was Aunt Casey, and even that was normal. And he helped me get into college, helped me out with money, let me stay with them some. By this time, my mother had moved. She moved that summer right after I graduated high school, so it was really just us. His family and me.”
“But you had a falling out,” Leslie guessed.
“I guess you could call it that.” Casey gripped the steering wheel, flexing her fists as she squeezed. “Their daughter, Erica, she just thought I hung the moon. She wanted to hang with me, no matter what. And when I became a cop, she thought that was so cool,” Casey said with a quiet laugh. “Yeah.” She wasn’t surprised this time when Leslie’s hand found her arm and gave a comforting squeeze. Leslie was affectionate. She liked that about her. “Erica was such a little tomboy. And she wanted to be just like Aunt Casey. She wanted to be a cop, just like Aunt Casey. And that’s when my brother freaked. Because being just like Aunt Casey meant being gay. And even though both he and his wife were always accepting of me, apparently they drew the line at their daughter.” Casey turned, glancing at Leslie who sat quietly watching her. “He very politely, but firmly, forbid me to come around anymore.”
“You have got to be kidding?”
“Erica was twelve. I was twenty-seven.” Casey tilted her head. “I was devastated.”
“I take it your father was already gone?”
“Yeah. He died only a few years after they split. Dropped dead of a heart attack one day. But yeah, it was just me and my brother. So I went to see my grandfather. I mean, he was getting on in years, but I thought we were close, I thought he could maybe talk some sense into Ryan.” She took a deep breath. “No. He agreed with Ryan. Erica had potential, he said. They didn’t want me bringing her down.”
“God, I am so sorry, Casey.”
“So when you ask me if I have family, if I have any siblings, that’s why my answer is no.”
“And you just never saw them again?”
“My grandfather died, oh, three or four years ago now, I guess. I tried to get in touch, I wanted to go to the funeral. But my brother said…he said no.” She took her hands off the steering wheel and rubbed them together, noting the dampness. She tilted her head back, then squared her shoulders, feeling them pop. “So there’s my horrible little story,” she said, trying to smile. “In a nutshell.”
“After all that, I am totally amazed by you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re such a happy person. You always have a smile on your face, you’re always in a good mood. I can’t believe you’re not bitter and just pissed off at the world.”
“No, that’s my mother,” Casey said. “She always told me she got screwed at life. She said she got dealt a bad hand.” Casey shook her head. “I didn’t want to be like her. If
you get dealt a bad hand, fold and ask for new cards. There’s no sense in hanging on to it for years, hoping things will change.”
“So that’s the real reason you’ve not settled down, isn’t it? You’re afraid you’re going to end up like your parents did?”
Casey ran her fingers through her hair a couple of times, finally nodding. “Yeah. I guess. I mean, the one time I tried it, it wasn’t good. Toward the end, there was a lot of arguing, bickering. Not fighting, really. But like I said, she wasn’t the one. And I refused to force things to make her the one. Because I think that’s what my parents did. They tried to force the other into being something—someone—they weren’t.”
They were quiet for a moment, both looking out the windshield, watching the handful of people walking about the complex. After a while, Leslie turned to her.
“No offense, but your brother is an asshole.”
Casey laughed quietly, but said nothing. Yeah, she’d used that word a time or two. She sat up straighter, starting the truck. “Let’s try another, huh?”
“Sure. Brookhaven?”
“Yeah, but remember, we’ll have to walk it.”
“That’s fine. Beats sitting still for so long.”
“Yeah, at least it’s cooler tonight. Can you imagine doing this in the middle of summer?” Leslie’s reply was cut short by Casey’s cell phone. She unclipped it from her belt without looking. “Yeah, O’Connor,” she answered. She flicked her glance to Leslie, listening. “We’re about four or five blocks away.” She closed the phone, then sped up, turning at the next intersection. “That was Malone. They’ve got a body in Deep Ellum. Appears to be a homeless man. Homicide.”
“Where?”
“In the alley behind Curtain Calls. It’s a comedy club.”
“I don’t know this area at all.”
“It’ll take time,” Casey said, turning again onto Elm Street and heading toward downtown.
There were three patrol cars with lights flashing, and Casey pulled to a stop next to the curb. She held her badge up before one of the officers could detain her. “O’Connor, Homicide. This is Detective Tucker. You got a body for us?”
