The Ivy Nash Thrillers: Books 1-3: Redemption Thriller Series 7-9 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set)

by John W. Mefford

  The woman announced herself as Michelle Patterson, giving each of us a once-over. I realized we all wore black and looked like shit. The vice president’s gaze stayed on Cristina, who used her fingers to flip her bottom lip.

  “I have the key,” Anika said, taking the attention away from Cristina.

  With a concerned look on her worn face, Michelle guided us to a meeting room where Anika pulled out her social security card and then signed a bunch of papers. Michelle organized the papers into a small stack and popped them off the table. “I think we’re good to go.”

  Anika’s face lit up. She suddenly seemed less anxious about her parents’ whereabouts.

  We were ushered into another room where Michelle inserted one key into a lockbox and Anika followed suit with her key.

  “You can use this table for your lockbox. Once you’re done, you can poke your head out, and I’ll insert my key with yours, and it will be locked up.”

  Before the bank vice president walked out, she took another gander at Cristina, who had face-planted on the table and was now snoring. I kicked her leg under the chair.

  “What did you give her?” I muttered under my breath as Anika and I waved to Michelle on her way out the door.

  “Just something to take the edge off her pain. We all need something like that occasionally,” she said, turning around to pull the lockbox out.

  Cristina sat up and used her thumbs to prop open her eyelids.

  “If your thumbs get tired, I have some toothpicks in the car.”

  “Really? Now that you say that…” Her chin dipped to her chest, then it popped up, and she was suddenly alert, at least for a few seconds. “I think I hurt my neck,” she said, her face tangled in pain as she rubbed the back of her neck.

  “You’re a mess,” I said, turning to watch Anika open the lockbox. Her eyes didn’t blink as she used two hands to lift a fabric-covered case. She rested it on the table like it might explode, then rubbed her hands on her jeans.

  I withheld any comment.

  She removed the latch and opened the top. Inside was a pocket covered by a white material. It appeared to be linen. She plucked the material off the top as if she were a magician showing off a trick. Then she pulled out a shiny object and held it up.

  “Holy shit,” Cristina said, putting a hand over her face. “That’s so fucking bright I can hardly see.”

  She wasn’t kidding—only because she was so out of it. But we got the point. We were all staring at a bracelet with more diamonds and rubies than I’d ever seen in person, and that included anything in Zahera’s jewelry box.

  I instantly thought we were dealing with stolen merchandise. “How did you get this?” I could feel the area between my eyes pull together.

  An eye roll. “Relax. It was my great aunt’s if you really must know.”

  She hadn’t displayed that kind of attitude when we sat in my kitchen, but I nodded as if everything made perfect sense. “On which side?”

  “Mom’s mom. Mamie is what we called her.”

  She ogled the diamond bracelet as she turned it so that the light caused the gems to sparkle. “You’re blinding me. Please shut that damn thing off,” Cristina said, collapsing into her arms on the table.

  I patted Cristina’s arm, but Anika and I both ignored her comment.

  “You said we.”

  She finally pulled her eyes off the shiny object. “I’m sorry?”

  “You said ‘we,’ as in ‘Mamie is what we called her.’ Who’s ‘we’?”

  She curled her lips inward, drawing in a breath through her nose. “I had a brother.” She pursed her lips, and I leaned forward, waiting for more. I knew brothers and sisters fought, but her comment seemed definitive.

  “A brother.”

  She turned her gaze back to the shiny bracelet. “Trey. He died when I was twelve.”

  I tried to see if or how that piece of information might fit into the puzzle of what had happened to her parents. “I don’t mean to bring up a sore subject, but you have hired us to find your parents.”

  “I would give you this bracelet, but I’m sure you want cash. I know this jeweler who buys things from estates, and I think I can get ten grand for this piece. Will that work for you?”

  I waved a hand. “I’m not worried about the payment right now. But if I’m going to find your parents, I need to know everything about your family.”

  She closed her eyes momentarily. “Trey is no longer part of our family, so I thought it would be a waste of time.”

  “Was he…?”

  “Killed? Oh, so you think the person who killed my brother might have done something to my parents?”

  I nodded, waiting…

  “No worries on that front, because I killed my brother.”

  Cristina actually lifted her head. “You did what?”

  Before anyone got any sleep, I insisted that we have another meeting. I agreed to pay for a round of smoothies.

  12

  Anika slurped the last remnants of an acai-blueberry smoothie. The sucking sound of the empty cup turned a few heads toward our corner table at Smoothies and Stuff, but Anika didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she didn’t care.

  Opting out of the healthy options, Cristina guzzled her caffeinated soda, her eyes wide and unblinking as she glared at the petite girl with balls the size of Texas.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but Anika held up a hand to beat me to it. “I know you’re curious why I didn’t tell you about Trey.”

  “Curious? How about dumbfounded?” Cristina shot back.

  “It’s complicated, and even a bit messy.” Anika’s eyes fell to the empty cup she was fiddling with.

  “Families are complicated,” I said to put her at ease. “But since you hired us to find your parents and we don’t have much evidence to work from, everything you know about your family is fair game if we’re going to have any hope in finding your parents.”

  “I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

  That was a good first step. “Tell us about Trey.”

  She tried to smile, but her face went flat, as if her emptiness had been exposed. It was easy to see her pain.

  “He was five years younger than me. Cute kid, with dimples on both cheeks, wild, curly blond hair.” Her eyes drifted again, and she paused. Cristina was about to jump in, but I nudged her elbow to quiet her.

  Finally, Anika came back to our world. “I had friends who had younger brothers and sisters. They fought over just about everything. It was different with me and Trey. Even though he was a little kid, he knew when to ask me questions and when to leave me alone. And I think he might have even looked up to me. A great brother. I was lucky.”

  She swallowed and took in a fortifying breath. “Until the night he died.”

  I wanted to question her choice of words. Earlier, she said she’d killed him. If she’d been trying to shock us, she’d accomplished her goal.

  “What happened that night?”

  “It actually started midday, when my parents invited over a whole bunch of their adult friends,” she said, a touch of disdain in her tone.

  “You didn’t care for them?” I asked.

  “How many were there?” Cristina asked.

  Anika shifted her eyes to me. “To answer your question, not really. Most were just looking for a party. Booze, weed, whatever. They partied hard. Real hard. It was like an extreme sport to them.” She turned her gaze to Cristina. “There were probably thirty people that came in and out of our home that day. But that was pretty typical for a weekend.”

  “Every weekend?” I asked.

  “Every one when Mom wasn’t in bed moaning and groaning about her latest ailment.”

  That seemed like another branch to this complicated family tree. “So, it’s the weekend, the adults are partying. And so what are you and Trey doing?” I finally took a pull through the straw of my drink, a strawberry-banana smoothie with extra protein.

  “Whatever the hell we wanted to do, that’s what.�
�

  I tilted my head.

  “I’m serious. Once Mom and Dad got loaded and their friends pulled them into la-la land, I could have told them I was taking Trey for a walk down the interstate and they would have just said, ‘Have fun.’” She used a mocking tone and waved her hand: buh-bye.

  “Must have been a tough period of your life.”

  “You have no idea.” Tears bubbled in the corners of her eyes. “What am I thinking? I know both of you went through your own hell, so I shouldn’t be complaining. I guess it’s just a rite of passage…you know, having a shitty young life and all.”

  I assumed Cristina had shared the highlights of my esteemed childhood with Anika. I had no problem with it, other than I wasn’t fond of still being labeled as the torn, broken person who somehow survived life as an abused foster child. I wouldn’t let it define me.

  “On this day in particular, what were you and Trey up to?”

  Her lips pulled tight, and she released a jittery breath.

  “It’s okay,” Cristina said. “We’re not here to judge you. But I know you want to find your parents. And this can only help.”

  “I’m not sure about that, but you deserve to hear it, so at least you’ll know I’m not keeping secrets.”

  She sniffled, and I slid a napkin to her side of the table. She dabbed her nose. “Shit, shit, shit,” she said. “I haven’t made myself relive this…thing in a while.”

  “It’s for your parents,” I said.

  “Right.” One more breath. “We had one of those above-ground pools back then.”

  “When was then?” Cristina was all about the facts.

  “Five years ago. I was twelve. Trey had just turned seven, and…” A single tear rolled down her cheek. Her trembling hand wiped it away. “I’d been watching him all day, most of the time outside in the pool. He loved to splash around. He’d kick a lot while holding on to his dinosaur float.”

  She started coughing, then said, “Can I get some water?”

  Cristina jumped up and was back with a cup of water in no time.

  “Thanks,” Anika said after taking a sip.

  “Trey was in the pool a lot. A regular fish,” I said to kick-start the conversation again.

  “Uh…not really.”

  “What do you mean?” Cristina asked.

  “He splashed around a lot, but he never understood the concept of holding his breath. I tried to teach him over and over again, but he never picked it up,” she said, both palms turned to the ceiling as she shrugged.

  I wasn’t a great swimmer myself. Never had many opportunities, given my nomadic and traumatic upbringing. But this was different. Trey was dead. I could feel my gut tighten as I tried to maintain a poker face.

  “So what happened to him?” Cristina prompted.

  “Like I said, I’d been watching him for hours. I was tired of doing it. Mom and Dad, all of the so-called adults, were boozing it up. Occasionally, one or two would come outside and jump in the pool. Trey didn’t care. He thought they just wanted to play with him.”

  She sipped her water, giving me and Cristina a chance to also take a pull from our respective drinks.

  “Did you care…about the adults getting in the pool?” I asked.

  “Hell yes,” she said, scooting higher in her booth seat. “They were a bad influence.”

  “How bad?”

  “This one couple starts making out, full-on tongue, and then the guy starts groping his girlfriend. Trey’s just five feet away, watching this. I couldn’t take it, so I took him out. It was one of the few times he got mad at me.”

  “Sounds like you made a wise choice.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m soooo wise.” She huffed out a breath. “Sorry, I’m just feeling sorry for myself, or maybe I’m still mad at myself.”

  “Keep going,” Cristina said, motioning with her hand. I just looked at her, somewhat surprised with her lack of patience, which came across as a lack of compassion.

  “Take your time, Anika,” I said.

  She used the napkin to dab the corner of her eye. “I practically had to drag Trey inside. He was upset, trying to pull away from me. My parents saw us, but went on with their party. I put him in his room and told him to stay in there and play with his new train set.”

  “What did he say?” Cristina asked.

  “He called me all sorts of names, using words he’d heard from the drunk adults.” She shook her head. “I went in and told my parents that I was going to my friend’s house across the street and that Trey was in his bedroom. They blew me off.”

  She blinked three times, then stared out the window over my shoulder. “A couple of hours later, I heard sirens and went outside. Paramedics, firemen, they were all at our house. I ran over to see which drunk idiot had fallen down and hurt himself. But instead, I saw them pulling Trey’s dead body from the pool.”

  I heard Cristina catch her breath. I didn’t take my eyes off Anika.

  “I’m really sorry, Anika. I can’t imagine,” I said.

  “It only gets better. My mom went berserk. Literally had a nervous breakdown right there. When she saw me, she said it was all my fault that Trey had died. He was my responsibility.” Anika was now poking her chest, her volume so high two patrons looked our way as they walked to a nearby table.

  Christina gave them the eye, then turned her attention back to Anika. “Why the hell did they pin it on you?”

  “They claim I never told them I was going to my friend’s house. They didn’t remember because they were so drunk and high.”

  Tears now flowed freely down her face, a few finding their way to the table. She used her napkin to mop them up.

  “They’re full of shit,” Cristina said, poking her finger into the table. “I know you were only twelve, but by now, I’m sure you know they’re full of shit.”

  She nodded. “It’s just hard. One day you have a family, even if they are fucked up in so many ways. The next day, it’s destroyed.”

  I reached across the table and put my hand on top of hers as she sobbed. After a couple of minutes, she gathered herself.

  “My parents never really forgave me. They said they did, but I could always see their resentment in their eyes.”

  “That’s why you told us that you killed your brother. Because that’s how they looked at you,” I suggested.

  “Yep.”

  A few moments ticked by, our silence only interrupted by chatting friends and a pair of men walking by who appeared to be identical twins.

  “So, on to business,” Anika said, opening her brown, frayed purse and giving us a quick glimpse of the sparkling bracelet she’d removed from the lockbox. “I can hopefully sell this by lunchtime, and then I can get you the money. Will five K be enough to adequately fund your investigation?”

  “Isn’t that something you’d like to keep? It was your great aunt’s, right?”

  She slipped the bracelet over her diminutive hand and turned her wrist, again admiring the brilliance of the diamonds and rubies illuminated by the light. “I guess I like it.” Her eyes glazed over. Then, like the flip of switch, she tugged off the bracelet and dropped it back into her purse. “It’s just a bracelet. I’m more concerned about finding Mom and Dad.”

  I could sense Cristina staring at my face, so I asked the obvious question. “Why?”

  “Why what?” Anika said.

  “Why would you want to find your parents after they made you feel like it was your fault your brother died?”

  “It’s been five years since he died.”

  She came across as defensive. “Okay,” I responded.

  “And that’s a long time to let wounds heal. I mean, it isn’t like they threw it in my face every minute of every day.”

  A moment ago her parents were cast as the worst villains in the southwest, but now…I couldn’t get a sense of what Anika was trying to accomplish. Or maybe I was over-analyzing her. She was obviously distraught by the death of her brother. And ultimate
ly, I guess she just wanted to feel loved by her parents.

  I thought of the irony. While it had been years since I’d allowed myself to even remotely think about who my parents were, why they had given me up for adoption, I could still feel the pang of bitterness.

  “I don’t mean to put you on the defensive. It was just how you told us the story. I…we could sense your pain of being blamed for your brother’s death.”

  “Your parents…” Cristina jumped in before Anika had a chance to respond to my comment. “Are they still party animals?”

  She took in a full breath. “That’s one of the good things that came out of it all, I suppose. They both stopped drinking, cold turkey.”

  “But they still have money issues,” I said.

  “We all have our demons,” she said casually, pulling her phone out of her purse.

  I could hear a buzz. “That not you?” I pointed at Anika, and she shook her head.

  Fishing my phone out of my purse, I saw it was Stan, and I answered the call while holding up a finger to the girls.

  “Do you have evidence to share from Eileen Tadlock’s autopsy?” I asked.

  “Worse.”

  “What do you mean, worse?” I climbed out of the booth.

  “I dropped by your apartment to share some additional information on Eileen, and I found a dead body right outside your door.”

  “What the hell?”

  “No joke. Cops, crime scene folks, ME’s office are either here or on their way.”

  “Why…how…” I felt lightheaded, and I rested a hand on the top of the seat.

  “It’s your old colleague from CPS. Joanna.”

  My smoothie made a return appearance in the parking lot before Cristina and I left Anika and drove to the murder scene.

  13

  “I thought you hated her.” Cristina was trying to be comforting, but as we stood down the hall from where Joanna Silva’s dead body lay in front of my door, it wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

  “What do you want me to say, Cristina? Thank God she finally got what she deserved?”

  “Sorry,” she said, stuffing her hands in her jeans.

  Dropping my face into my hand, I felt a rush of heat envelope my body. I leaned against the wall and tried to keep my mind from running rampant.