“Like do what, call all of these hotels? That’s not my forte. I’m not good on the phone, or thinking on my feet.”
Cristina rested her forearms on the table. “We need your brain, Anika. We need for you to think back into your past and try to recall anyone who might still be in touch with your parents. Someone they were close to. Someone who might know about their money issues. Someone who might have an idea on what made them leave town so abruptly.”
Anika stared blankly at her for a moment, which made Cristina wonder if what she’d said had registered. Anika then opened a zipper on her backpack and pulled out a piece of bubble gum, tossing it in her mouth. “Let me think about it while I’m on the can.” She got up and walked toward the restroom.
Cristina picked up her smoothie and took a pull from the straw. She’d become hooked on the strawberry-banana flavor. She would never have guessed she would ditch her coffee and soda for a healthy drink.
She thought more about Anika’s demeanor. It was odd. For a while she’d considered her to be merely eccentric. Maybe she had one of those social-interaction issues. Who knew? But there were times when it seemed like Anika was off in la-la land. Sometimes it even felt like she was studying Cristina. Sizing her up. But what reason would she have? Could just be an instinctive survival technique she’d learned over the years.
Her eyes were drawn to Anika’s backpack. A white slip of paper stuck out. The font of the lettering, the red, white, and blue logo in the upper right hand corner…it looked like an airplane ticket. She casually looked over her shoulder toward the bathroom. Four tables were filled with customers, but no sign of Anika.
She reached across the table and pulled out the slip of paper. “Sonofabitch.” Her eyes hadn’t lied. It was an airplane ticket. She first took notice of the seat—22B. She saw the name Anika Hamrick, then she found the destination. Chicago O’Hare International Airport.
Taking another quick glance over her shoulder, she could feel her pulse thumping the side of her neck. How the hell does she have money to take an airplane trip to Chicago? More importantly, when? She quickly scanned the ticket and spotted the date. It was last Wednesday—the day before Anika had talked to her about her missing parents, when she had broken down, cried on Cristina’s shoulder.
A little kid giggled as he ran away from his mother. She finally caught him, scooping him up into her arms just as Anika opened the restroom door. Using her back as a screen, Cristina returned the airline ticket to the backpack, the edge sticking out as it was before.
“Hey, I think I recall someone who might have a clue about Mom and Dad.” Anika sat down, and with her gaze on Cristina, shoved the ticket into the backpack pocket and zipped it up.
Interesting, Cristina thought. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe Anika had gone to Chicago in search of her parents, and then simply forgot to mention it to her or Ivy. But airline tickets cost two or three hundred dollars, on the low end. Anika didn’t have that kind of spare money. She was living day to day.
Fingers snapped in front her face. “Earth to Cristina.”
“Uh, yeah. Sorry. Okay, so what made you suddenly think of a name?”
Anika wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “It just hit me, you know.”
Cristina gave a slow nod and then picked up her phone—to keep her hands occupied.
“You haven’t ever just sat on the toilet and something pops into your mind?” Anika asked, her lips curling into a smile. “Oh, I get it, you’re one of those girls who has to be on the phone twenty-four/seven.”
One of those girls?
“Sorry if I offended you. I guess it’s a good thing that you live on that phone. Hopefully it will help you find Mom and Dad.”
Cristina could feel her blood zipping through her veins. “Call me guilty. I know I’m a phone junkie. So who’s this person you thought of?”
“Actually, it was Mom’s AA sponsor. I don’t know why I didn’t think of her before, but before I left home, I recall Mom and her having some pretty serious discussions. Not just about staying sober, but other stuff too.”
“You heard them talking about money issues?”
“One time I did, yep.”
Cristina opened her contacts on her phone, then tapped the plus sign to create a new contact. “You got a name for me?”
“Sara Litvin.”
“Phone number and address if you have it. Both work and home info would be good.”
“That’s the problem.”
“Problem?”
“More like a hiccup, I’m sure.”
Is there anything about this investigation that isn’t a pain the ass? Cristina brought a hand to her chin. “I’m sure we can get past it, right?”
“I don’t have her phone number.”
“Well, there can’t be too many people in San Antonio with that name.” Cristina opened a search engine, then looked up to see Anika with her mouth open.
“What?”
“Sara doesn’t live here anymore.”
“Where does she live?”
“Chicago.”
Cristina reached for her smoothie, trying to keep a “WTF?” from shooting out of her mouth. “Chicago. That’s surprising. Don’t they try to have AA sponsors close by?”
“She did live here, but she moved.”
“I know you didn’t keep in touch with your parents, but did you keep in touch with Sara?”
“I did for a while. I was pissed at my parents, but she kept me updated on their progress. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I cared even when they didn’t give a shit about me, or themselves.”
Again, she sounded heartfelt. Cristina wanted to nail her ass to the wall and ask if she’d gone to Chicago to see Sara, and if so, why? But she couldn’t admit she had any knowledge of Anika’s visit to Chicago. Not yet. “But you don’t have her number?”
“Nah. It’s been a while, and I had to swap out phones.” She pulled her phone out of her pants pocket, flipped it around between her thumb and index finger like the corner was on a swivel.
I’d do anything to get my hands on her phone. Cristina realized she was staring at it. “You going to search for her name in Chicago?” Anika asked.
“Right.” Cristina got to work and found eight people with that name.
“This search should be a lot easier for you. I’m sure you can track her down in a few minutes.” Anika lifted out of her seat and slung her backpack over her shoulder.
“Yeah.”
“That offer for me to sell Mamie’s bracelet is still on the table.”
“That’s all you have, Anika,” she said. “Ivy’s cool with doing the right thing, finding your parents, reuniting your family. We can look at the fees after we see happy faces all around.”
A tight-lipped smile was all Anika offered in return.
“Where are you headed off to? Three people tackling this would make it go that much quicker,” Cristina said.
Anika held her phone up like it was a torch. “I’ve got a call coming in. Gotta run. Let me know once you talk to Sara. Hopefully, this will be our big break.”
She flipped around and was out the door before Cristina could say another word—or many words, starting with: if this was so damn important and Anika knew she wasn’t paying ECHO anything for all of this work, then why wouldn’t she want to help with the search? On top of that, who was on the other end of the call that came in? It seemed like Anika’s priorities were out of whack.
Christina wondered if her gut was telling her not to trust Anika. Why not trust her? What could she be hiding? She knew she treated trust as a gatekeeper, a tool to keep her safe. But there just seemed to be something looming under the surface every time she talked to Anika.
Cristina watched through the window as Anika hopped off the curb while opening a large, navy blue umbrella. She smacked her hands to the table when she saw a large orange “C” on the vinyl. “Chicago Bears. Sonofabitch.” While the umbrella itself didn’t automatically mean that Anika had take
n the trip to Chicago, it added another level of suspicion. The airline ticket, the umbrella, and Sara Litvin all pointed to Chicago. Was there any way that her parents might be holed up in Chicago, possibly living with Sara? That could explain why Anika made the trip. To see her parents. But if Anika had seen her parents and, for some reason, was helping them stay off the public grid, then why would she offer up Sara’s name as a new starting point for their search?
“Makes no fricking sense,” she muttered.
“What makes no sense?” a voice whispered into her ear.
She shuddered, quickly glancing to her right to see Ivy standing there with a phone to her ear. She gave her boss the middle finger for scaring the crap of her and then waited for the phone conversation to end. Ivy was about to be shocked and awed.
27
I needed a reason to smile, and Cristina’s response to my creepy whisper came at just the right time.
Tossing the wet blanket in the booth, I plopped down across from Cristina, who was mouthing something.
“Give me a minute,” I said softly with my hand over the phone mic.
But it didn’t stop. Cristina’s mouth continued moving, and her hands became animated. I finally set the phone on the table and tapped the speaker button.
Beatrice’s voice came alive. “I’m telling you, Ivy, ever since Gary defended my honor, our relationship has vaulted to the next level.”
“Defended her honor?” Cristina said far too loudly.
“What…who is that?”
I gritted my teeth and swatted at Cristina. “Oh, just someone walking by. You were talking about Gary?”
She chuckled.
“What’s so funny, Beatrice?”
“Oh, I just appreciate how much you’re willing to put up with this old lady as I go on and on about my world. I can be a little self-absorbed sometimes.”
“Beatrice, I love hearing your stories, and I couldn’t be happier for you and Gary.”
“You’re such a doll. Oh my…” Beatrice released a wet cough. “Now, you must be calling about your car. I know Gary’s heart was in the right place, but it wasn’t right. Just know that he’ll be sending you something to apologize.”
Cristina placed her hand over the phone and whispered, “Can’t wait.”
I moved her hand out of the way. “Not necessary, but I’ll accept it.”
“Now about those damages, do you have a quote from the mechanic yet? I’ve got a few greenbacks wasting away here in my wallet. I can send them to you.”
A quick shake of my head. Did she think this was 1935 and my car would be repaired for fifty bucks?
“I haven’t had a chance to get a quote just yet, Beatrice. I hope to get to that in the next few days. I’ll give you another call when I have the details, and we can discuss it.”
“Oh wonderful. I love our little talks. I’ll look forward to it.”
“Great. Hey, I wanted to ask you a quick question. Something that might help us—”
“Is it time for my medicine already?”
“Medicine? I’m sorry but—” I said, drawing Cristina’s leer again.
“Oh, Ivy, dear, they’re here to give me my medicine. Do you mind calling me back a little later?”
“Actually, real quickly, I just wanted to ask you about Mona. Do you recall her maiden name?”
A few ticks of silence, and I checked the phone to see if we’d been disconnected.
“Let’s see, so she was my sister’s second daughter with her third husband, and his last name was…”
Cristina and I leaned closer to the phone between us and waited—impatiently.
“Clancy. That’s it. Hurray for me!” she shouted.
“Thank you, Beatrice. I’ll let you go take your medicine now. Have a great afternoon.”
“Oh, please let me know if you figure out where Mona and Dexter have run off to. And I look forward to our next conversation.”
I hit the disconnect button.
“Maiden name, huh? That’s an interesting angle to take,” Cristina said.
“Stan gave me the idea. It helped him break a case a while back.”
“How did it go at the crime scene?”
“It was terrible. Gut-wrenching.” I swallowed back some emotion.
“So it was the same guy who kidnapped you, and then killed Eileen and Joanna?”
“That’s the working premise, but no one wants to say absolutely it’s the same guy,” I said, clasping my hands to calm my nerves. “It’s been a tough couple of hours. Jake didn’t go quietly. He took a lot of punishment.”
Cristina scooted forward. “You saw the body?”
“A partial. That’s all I could take. But there is a silver lining to this. We’ve got a shitload of evidence.”
With Cristina hanging on my every word, I ran down all of the evidence, from the tire iron, to the blood, to the eyewitness description of the suspect and the car, and to the video.
“It’ll be the video. That’s the key piece right there.”
“I hope so. If they get a clear picture of the suspect, this damn killing spree could end quickly.”
“Positive thoughts,” Cristina said. That didn’t sound like her, but I could tell she had some emotional investment in catching this killer.
“Honestly, I’ve tried to keep my mind off of it, but I’ve been more worried about you, Stan, Z, anyone I’ve ever known or been close to. It’s obvious at least to me that this sicko is trying to get to me by hurting people I care about.”
“Eileen Tadlock? You never met her, right?”
“True, but she did attend that seminar.”
“You’ve got enough to worry about. We’re fine,” she said. “I’ve got faith in Stan and the cops on this one. I think they’re going to find this twat and put him behind bars in no time.”
I could feel a smile coming on.
“What?”
“Positive thinking. Faith in the cops. Is this really you?” I teased.
She flipped me off for the second time since I walked through the door, pulling an unexpected bout of laughter from my gut.
My phone rattled across the table, and we both bent forward to look at the screen. It was a text from Zahera.
Cristina’s eyes got wide as she read the words. “Gigolo?”
“I forgot to mention that part of the Jake story. I guess it now also applies to Zahera’s squeeze, Evan.”
After sharing all of the dirt, Cristina just shook her head. “And you guys think I’ve got issues.”
“Whatever,” I said, stowing my phone in my purse. “So are you up for a night at Zahera’s lavish condo?”
“You guys crack me up. I’m in.”
28
I washed my hands and padded out of the bathroom—one of three in Zahera’s three-thousand-square-foot condo. My bare feet sunk into plush carpet in the hallway as I rolled my neck from side to side. The Jacuzzi shower had felt amazing. The pulsating water blasts turned all of my knots into marshmallows. The two-person-sized shower, the travertine tile, the lemongrass-scented shower gel, the soft towels…I had to admit, I felt like a new woman. I stopped and eyed what looked like an original painting hanging in the hallway, illuminated by one of those fancy picture lights. The brushstrokes were choppy. The man with a beard had piercing blue eyes. Looking closer, I could see the name Salgado nestled against the frame. I’d have to ask Zahera about it, but I knew it wasn’t from Target.
“Why didn’t I go to medical school?” I asked myself. I stuck my head in a guest bedroom. The color theme was cream and khaki, with a few variations in between. The queen-sized sleigh bed had a duvet and a mass of throw pillows. The iron lamps looked like they should be on display at a museum. And then there was the chandelier. Soft lights made the glass sparkle. Zahera loved chandeliers like Stan loved candy bars. She had one in almost every room, each one stunning and memorable.
I finished my mini-tour and rounded the corner to enter the living room. Cristina, who’d already sho
wered and was now wearing a plush white robe, sat in a fabric chair with her feet propped up on an ottoman with the same matching fabric—a rich burgundy color. With a bowl of ice cream sitting on a tray on her lap, she used a spoon in one hand to eat and the phone in the other hand to surf the Internet.
“You look like you’ve done this before,” I said.
She tried to speak, but her mouth was full. A glob dribbled out the side, and I grabbed the napkin off the tray and caught the mess before it landed on the furniture. “This chair alone is worth more than my car.”
She raised an eyebrow. “It is after Gary went postal on Black Beauty.”
I thought more about Beatrice’s offer to fix all of the damage. “Not sure Black Beauty will get the makeover she needs any time soon.”
“Did someone say makeover? It might be time to visit my favorite spa.” Zahera swooped in wearing the tiniest of nightgowns, sipping from a martini glass. “Here you go, sista.”
I took the full one and sipped. “I like. Did you actually make these yourself, or do you have a cabana boy wearing chaps stowed away in the kitchen doing all of your cooking and bartending?”
“Ouch, Ivy. That stings,” she said, though she was smiling. “Can you believe that Evan is a fricking hooker?”
“Not really. But you didn’t pay anything, right?”
“Only because I rocked his world,” she said with a serious tone, holding a hand over her heart. She then busted out an obnoxious snorting laugh and found her spot on the couch. “Sit, Ivy. Sit down and relax for once.”
I took my previous spot on the opposite end of the couch, my laptop and phone on the coffee table. My mind had remarkably bounced back, after the refreshing shower and a three-course meal Zahera had ordered in from a local authentic Italian eatery. I sipped my martini, allowing more of the tension to drain from my body. I thought about the dramatic emotional swing during the last day. Waking up next to a man I hardly knew, feeling satisfied even though I wasn’t floating amongst the clouds. Jake had been a decent guy, who, despite his occupation, treated me with respect. And then the stinging pain of seeing Jake dead just a few hours later—or at least part of Jake. He had fought back with everything he had, that much was obvious. But there was no chivalry award given to those who fought back. The dead were just that—dead. Like Eileen and Joanna before him, Jake would no longer feel rain against his face or the dozens of emotions we all experienced every day on this earth. No more elation or even disappointment. Death was final and forever.
The Ivy Nash Thrillers: Books 1-3: Redemption Thriller Series 7-9 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set) Page 41
