by V. K. Powell
*
Greer tried to complete her paperwork without eavesdropping on the low, intense mumbles from Fluharty’s office. Would the sergeant reopen the Saldana case?
She had thought the initial investigation four months ago was a bit hasty, but all evidence pointed to an overdose. She had been taught to look beyond the obvious, and in this instance her training officer, JJ, had done exactly the opposite. He wrapped the scene in a matter of hours, accepted the coroner’s preliminary cause of death, and filed the jacket. When she’d asked him about it, he’d quipped something about a duck being a duck.
He’d done his job properly, though. JJ was the best detective in the squad, and she’d learned a lot from him. Without his friendship, especially the way he covered for her during her grief, the last two years wouldn’t have made much sense.
But why was JJ in court instead of meeting with Ms. Saldana and the sergeant? Breeze and Craig were out trying to locate a witness, and right now Greer would rather be anywhere but here. The intensity in Sergeant Fluharty’s voice increased, and she flinched. It wasn’t going well. She’d heard Fluharty’s logical, fatherly sermons many times. She didn’t want to think about how that poor woman was feeling right now.
She was the first person who’d stirred any real interest in her since Clare. Guilt, immediate and brutal, seized her. She slumped in her chair as sensual memories invaded. She shouldn’t feel attracted to Eva, but she ached for physical attention. Sex was different from love, she told herself, and she knew her limits.
Eva was nothing like Clare, but her expressiveness mesmerized Greer. When they met, Greer wanted to say something genuine, but she hadn’t wanted to show how much Eva attracted her. More beautiful than a model, Eva seemed innocent, passionate, and determined. Uneasy, Greer took a deep breath as the voices from Fluharty’s office grew more urgent.
Eva Saldana sounded increasingly distressed and desperate. Situations like this made Greer uncomfortable. She understood grief over the loss of a loved one, but she couldn’t identify with someone who expressed it so earnestly. Suddenly the door to Fluharty’s office opened and Eva walked slowly but deliberately toward the parking lot, gazing straight ahead, her lips pursed in a tight line. She looked only seconds from tears. Greer ran after her, compelled to help.
As Greer exited the squad room, an evidence tech waved a brown box. “Saldana’s property.” She stopped long enough to sign the obligatory form, grabbed the box, and ran after Eva.
“Ms. Saldana.” Eva sat in her car gripping the steering wheel, her eyes closed. She didn’t acknowledge Greer. “Ms. Saldana, please. I have these—”
Eva opened her eyes and rolled down the window, staring at Greer through a mask of controlled grief. “You have what? My brother’s personal effects?” She snatched the box and shook it at Greer. “You want to pass this off and wash your hands of him entirely? Are police officers supposed to be unfeeling and inflexible, or is it an option?” She waited as if expecting Greer to answer.
The pain reflected in Eva’s eyes and in her trembling voice disturbed Greer. She felt totally inadequate to help this woman, yet she wanted to. “I’m sorry.”
Eva gestured more slowly yet more intensely. “You’re sorry? Could you be more specific? Are you sorry because you and your fellow conspirators have desecrated the name of an honest, respectable man? Or are you sorry because you did a poor job and lack the integrity to admit it and make it right? Perhaps you’re sorry that you had to deliver this box and confront the hysterical woman. What exactly makes you sorry, Detective Ellis?”
Greer was tempted to say nothing, but something inside her prevented it. “I’m sorry for your loss.” Though heartfelt, the statement sounded so clichéd.
“You’re sorry for my loss? You know nothing of loss.”
Greer twirled the wedding band on her finger. Eva stared at her, but Greer couldn’t look up. She’d already revealed too much.
“What do you know of my pain?”
“You’re not the first person to lose somebody.” Greer noted the unintended bite in her tone.
The reply quieted Eva momentarily before she asked, “And your loss made you like this?” It sounded more like an observation than a question.
Greer straightened and forced a smile she didn’t feel. She wasn’t sure what Eva meant and wasn’t sure she wanted to know. This woman was prying into her private thoughts and feelings. Time to take a giant step back. “Nah. I blame genes and an overindulgent guardian.”
“You use professional bravado well—to bury your loss and keep you prisoner.”
The truth in the words surprised Greer. Eva sounded like Bessie, wise and empathic. Greer couldn’t respond. It had taken her months to build a façade around her loss—months of denial and avoidance. She refused to let this stranger with pinball emotions rattle her bubble of protection. “Ms. Saldana, I’m also sorry the sergeant won’t reopen your brother’s case.” Then, to her surprise, she said, “But if it’ll help, I’m willing to listen.”
Hope replaced the sadness in Eva’s eyes. “You’ll review the case?”
What the hell had she done? “That’s not what I meant. I don’t have the authority to reopen a closed case, but I can hear what you have to say. Meet me for coffee later at the diner on Elm? I’m off at three.”
Greer would at least listen to her. She wasn’t part of this investigation, but she took pride in her squad’s work. She was a professional and wanted everyone to think of her and the department in that way. She’d try to convince Eva that the squad had done its job properly. She owed it to herself and her coworkers.
“I’ll meet you. And thank you, Detective.” Her gaze held Greer’s a moment longer. “I’m sorry for my outburst. I’m overly emotional and a bit raw right now but—”
“No problem.” Greer doubted seriously that Eva ever repressed her emotions. She headed back inside the station as Eva pulled out of the parking lot.
Where had this woman come from and how had she insinuated herself into Greer’s life? With her soft, rhythmic voice she molded her words into an English-foreign hybrid that oozed sensuality. But beyond her obvious appeal, she was in pain and looking for answers. As Greer walked back to the office, her thoughts strayed from her lengthy to-do list to Eva and her own questions about Paul Saldana’s death four months earlier.
That afternoon, on her way to meet Eva, Greer considered how she could possibly help. She wouldn’t go against her fellow officers, so she refused to intervene professionally. She’d failed to find peace in her own life since Clare’s death, so how could she mitigate anyone else’s suffering? What the hell was she doing?
The fifties retro eatery was full of downtown workers taking a midafternoon coffee break. Their conversations hummed in the background of clanking dishes and whirring espresso machines. The aroma of the morning’s bacon and onion-laden hash browns still filled the air. Greer waved and nodded as she walked over to the only outsider in the place.
Eva already sat at a booth in the back and waved as Greer entered. “I was afraid you’d change your mind.” Several empty espresso cups and a barely touched muffin littered the table. Greer inhaled the aromatic fragrances of mingled coffee concoctions and signaled for a waitress.
Janice Johnston, JJ’s wife, sauntered over to their table and pulled a pencil from behind her ear. “Your usual, Greer?” When Greer nodded, Janice asked Eva, “Another double espresso?” She scribbled their orders and started back to the counter.
“Thanks, Janice.” Greer returned her attention to Eva. “How long have you been here?”
“Since this morning. Where else would I go?” Eva looked at her like the answer made perfect sense.
“Where were you before? I mean, you just arrived in New Hope from Portugal?”
“Yes. I came from Lagos, my childhood home. Vincent and Lucio, my twin brothers, and I arranged for Paul’s burial. We remained there to settle his estate and to grieve.”
“That was four months ago.”
“Yes. Grieving is a long and sacred process in my family. We mourn the dead by celebrating their lives. We stay together until everyone feels a little more comfortable with the loss. Some heal faster than others. Some never release the pain.”
She gazed at Greer, seeming to wait for a reaction to her point. Her stare was as invasive as it was welcoming. Surprisingly, Greer wanted to respond to the statement, but opted to let Eva open their professional discussion at her own pace.
After Janice placed their drinks on the table and walked away, Eva began her story. “My brothers and I were very close after my parents died. We called ourselves the quad and talked every month, sometimes more, in person or on conference calls. Paul and I were especially close, only a year between us. Vincent and Lucio are seven years older. We spoke the week before Paul’s—before this happened. He was excited about a real-estate discovery here in New Hope.”
“Any more details?”
Eva shook her head. “He usually e-mailed all the information. I hadn’t received the latest project details.” Her voice dropped and a pained expression shadowed her lovely features. “I didn’t ask enough questions the last time we talked. My father would’ve been ashamed of my amateurishness. He was a perfectionist and encouraged us to be as well. But my investigative work hasn’t been this personal before.”
The comment about her father seemed to cause Eva more pain. Greer didn’t understand fathers, but she’d had experience disappointing people. Bessie’s expectant face flashed through her mind. “You didn’t hear from Paul again?”
“No.” Eva brushed a strand of wavy brown hair from her face and looked at her apologetically.
“What about your other brothers, any contact?”
“No.”
“Tell me about Paul.”
Eva’s hand trembled as she took a sip of espresso. “Paul was a wonderful man, compassionate and loyal. He was engaged to his college love, and they were planning to marry next year and raise a family. He wouldn’t put impurities in his body, especially not drugs. If an organic or alternative medicine was available, he used that instead.”
“Did he have any enemies or any disagreements over recent business deals? Past lovers who might have been a problem? Anything?” Greer asked all the questions that might suggest motive, suspicion, or grounds for a review. So far all she had was a grieving woman who couldn’t accept her brother’s death.
“Nothing. Everyone loved Paul. He was a good man, established in his career as an international-realty specialist, had a zest for life. How does such a man end up dead in a motel room with drugs he didn’t use? I can’t understand it.” Eva seemed to search Greer’s face for answers. “Can you do anything, Detective?”
“Please call me Greer. I didn’t work on your brother’s case directly, but JJ is the best. He assured me he handled everything properly.”
Eva’s eyes sparked with interest. “You had questions, Greer. Why?”
The way Eva spoke her name, the r’s rolling softly off her tongue like a whisper, stalled Greer’s next thought. Damn. She’d inadvertently revealed more than she intended. In a botched effort to be sympathetic, she’d hinted at her uncertainty. That was all Eva Saldana needed.
“Not exactly. Detectives often look over each other’s cases.” Her answer sounded lame and unlikely to derail this intuitive woman.
“Still, you speak with dubiety. Would you be so cautious if this was your loved one?” She pointed to the ring on Greer’s finger. “Wouldn’t you listen to your instincts? Wouldn’t you want to illuminate even the smallest shadow of doubt?”
Her question struck at the very heart of the issue. Clare’s killer had been immediately sentenced—to death. The shoot-out in front of the police station left two people dead, Sergeant Fluharty a hero, and Greer a widow. No need to second-guess the judicial process. How would she feel if the killer was still free or even still alive? She tightened her grip on her coffee cup as anger boiled in her veins.
“Or has your loss robbed you of compassion? I don’t believe that’s true. The pain on your face says otherwise. Will you help me, Greer?”
“Eva, I—” She had questioned why they had settled Paul’s case so quickly, then accepted this death as an overdose, like so many others. If she doubted the results now, she would be questioning her mentor and all he’d taught her. If she denied her instincts again, she would add another layer of denial to her slowly atrophying emotions. Greer didn’t like either option.
Eva took Greer’s hands and smiled for the first time, deep dimples punctuating the corners of her mouth. The grieving woman suddenly looked very young and innocent.
She drew a card from her purse, scribbled her number on the back, and placed it on the table between them. “You’re conflicted, and I don’t want to cause you trouble. But I’m not going away. With or without your help, I’ll get to the bottom of Paul’s death. Search your heart, and if you have any doubt, please let it serve my brother’s memory. I’m at the Sunset Motel in Hurley.”
Chapter Three
Eva thought about Greer Ellis’s mesmerizing blue eyes repeatedly as she drove toward her motel. Who had Greer lost? Had that caused her guarded behavior? She seemed profoundly sad, but tried to hide behind her cop’s demeanor and recklessness, if the way she rode that monstrous motorcycle was any indication. Greer had been the only person even mildly concerned about her situation today. However, with her libido running amok, it was dangerous and distracting to be curious about her. But, if Greer was also attracted to her, that might be useful in her own investigation of Paul’s death.
The brown evidence box on the car seat made a pang of sorrow rip through her. She couldn’t open it until she was safely off the street and behind closed doors. Handling personal items that Paul had last touched would be painful, and she wanted to give the process all the reverence it deserved.
How could something so terrible happen to her baby brother? He was the most alive, totally present individual she had ever known. He loved every minute of his existence and encouraged her to do the same. She hadn’t followed his example, choosing to let work instead of people stimulate her.
Eva stifled an urge to cry as she entered her drab motel room and placed the box on the bed. She changed into a bathrobe and returned to the unpleasant task. As she reached for the tape-wrapped container with trembling hands, her cell phone rang. Unenthusiastically, she answered.
“Eva, darling, it’s so good to hear your voice. I’ve been worried witless.”
“Constance?” The woman she’d most recently bedded sounded relieved and a bit accusatory.
“Of course it’s Constance. You left so suddenly. I had to bribe someone at CNN to get your new phone number. Is all this secrecy necessary? We are lovers, after all.”
“Were.” She hated to have to restate the sad truth about her life. Relationships had become like an addendum to her assignments, and they ended simultaneously. Through the years she’d wondered if the pain of leaving wasn’t as bad as that of being left. Either way, she effectively avoided the possibility of real intimacy.
“Sorry?”
“We were lovers, and I told you I was leaving. I finished my job there and another was waiting. I can’t put down roots whenever I want. I thought you understood.” The long pause confirmed that Constance had probably dismissed Eva’s early warnings about her lifestyle. When they became involved, she chose to believe that she could change Eva.
“But I thought…”
Their last dinner together had left little doubt about what Constance thought. When Eva told her about her new assignment, Constance had been visibly upset and caused a scene in the restaurant. In retrospect, she had possessed potential as a long-term partner, if Eva had been so inclined. But her childhood memories prevented it. Her life of wanderlust and uncertainty wouldn’t translate easily into domesticity.
“I’m truly sorry, Constance. I didn’t intend to hurt you.” How many times had she said those same words and sincerely
meant them? She tried many times to establish a connection deeper than the flesh, but she was like her father after all. Her profession defined yet limited her. “Forgive me.”
“Will you be in Madrid again—soon, I mean?” The hope in Constance’s voice only added to Eva’s guilt.
“I don’t know. Constance, I realize this isn’t what you wanted. It’s simply all I can manage.”
“What if I come visit?”
“That wouldn’t be a good idea. This isn’t a vacation, and I wouldn’t be very good company.”
Silence on the other end cued Eva that Constance didn’t like her answer. “Did you ever love me, Eva?”
Oh, God. How could she possibly answer that question without causing more pain? “We had a wonderful time, but we were together only a short while.”
“Because you left.”
“We’ve been over this, Constance. It’s my job.”
“Bullshit, Eva. It’s your excuse. CNN has been trying for months to get you off the investigative track and into your own show. You like this nomadic lifestyle. It’s an easy out for having a real life, taking responsibility and making a commitment.”
Eva was at a loss. Was the statement false or was it too close to the truth? She stuck to the facts. “Who told you I’d been offered my own show? No one’s supposed to know about that.”
“You’re not the only one with friends around the globe, dear.”
“Constance, I can’t deal with this right now. I’m sorry you’re upset, and I apologize again for hurting you. Give me time to straighten things out here, and we’ll talk more.”
A long sigh preceded Constance’s last comment. “I guess that’s all I’ll get, isn’t it?”
Another round of self-recrimination hit Eva as she disconnected. She stared at the evidence box like it was a serpent waiting to strike. Without her brother, who had been her closest friend and staunchest supporter, she felt helpless and lonely. Tears filled her eyes. Now, in the privacy of this stale environment away from the judgment of others, she allowed the frustrations and disappointments of the day to rise and the tears to fall.
