Yes, he certainly was. I handed Mary the flashlight, gripped the bat, and resumed creeping toward the marina. Sadie brought up the rear.
“Did you find something out about Emily?” Mary asked. Her hushed voice trembled.
“Keep going,” Sadie barked under her breath, darting a glance behind her and back up toward the parking lot.
I resisted sticking my tongue out at Sadie; then I pried Mary’s hand off my arm before she punctured my skin. “I think Zod taught Garrett to give himself a tattoo,” I said, deciding I could give Mary a little insight, “and that tattoo may have caused his heart infection.”
She sucked in a breath. “And someone killed Emily because of that?”
“Actually, I have another theory about that.”
“What?”
“Your father had an affair with Emily.”
She rolled her eyes. “Duh.”
We followed the wooden planks to a steep staircase leading down to the dock. I went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “They had a son together.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Speed it up, Dolores,” Sadie snapped.
I talked faster. “Emily got in touch with him. Your dad said she wanted his help.”
Mary covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. “If you’re going to say my dad killed her…”
“No, I don’t think he did, but I think he was involved with someone else when Emily came back into his life, and that person might have been slightly scorned.”
“Scorned?” Mary stopped; then her eyes grew as she realized what I was saying. “Oh my gosh, really? Scorned enough to kill?”
“You got it.” I pulled her into motion again, and a few minutes later the three of us were at water level. We stopped short at the private gate that led to the boat slips, staring at the paint can that held it open. Had Jack done that?
I scanned the area but saw no movement. Nothing, aside from the paint can, seemed unusual. I thought about calling out to him, but a sense of foreboding made me hold my tongue. Something didn’t feel right, and I was suddenly grateful that Sadie and her gun were with me.
Mary took a shaky breath. “It looks creepy in the dark.”
That was an understatement. I stifled a shiver. “Your dad’s boat is called My Lie?”
“Yeah. I never understood why he named it that,” Mary said.
It was odd. I’d been mulling it over since I’d heard Jack’s message. My lie. My lie. The letters ran together in my mind, turning and weaving until they blurred together. Was the name of the boat George Bonatee’s twisted attempt at irony? What had he lied about? Hiding that he’d fathered Emily’s child? No, he’d only just learned about that.
The letters jumbled and reordered themselves. I started and smacked my forehead. My lie. It was an anagram for Emily! I caught a glimpse into George Bonatee’s heart. He was more than a handsome charmer. He was also a tortured romantic. He’d made a mistake by fooling around on Emily. She’d left him, and he hadn’t been able to win her back. Heat spread to my cheeks. Despite his errant ways, he’d always loved her. Keeping his love a secret—that was his lie.
Mary’s shrill whisper broke into my revelation. “I’ll wait here.”
“Are you okay?” I asked. She looked spooked, her silky skin pasty in the moonlight.
“I—I’m fine. I j-just keep picturing Emily.”
“Go call your dad again, Mary. He’s probably home now—”
A pop in the distance, like a firecracker, pierced the air. Startled, Mary and I fell back against the gate. Even always-prepared Sadie jumped back, wobbling on the rickety boards of the dock.
“Who’s shooting at us?” Mary shrilled.
“No one. It came from the boats.”
Mary twisted her arm until she had a vicelike grip around my wrist. “From m-my dad’s b-boat?”
I struggled to breathe, feeling like I was choking on air. Jack might be on her dad’s boat. I’d come here to meet him, but maybe I’d be saving him instead. I shook Mary loose and choked up on the bat. My fingernails clawed into my palms. If the killer was out there, armed, there wasn’t a chance in hell that my body or this bat could fight off bullets. Damn me and my principles.
“Go call the police.” I nudged Mary until she moved on her own. “Detective Seavers,” I hissed. “Tell him where we are and the name of your dad’s boat.”
She nodded, her eyes glowing with fear, and then she was running back down the dock, up the rickety stairs. She vanished into the darkness.
I crouched low, adrenaline pumping through me as I scrambled through the gate. Inching forward, my heart thrashed. Sadie’s careful steps sounded behind me.
I searched the names of the boats until I found My Lie, and we hunkered down to listen.
The sound of voices drifted out on the heavy air. “Listen to me. This is crazy. Turn yourself in.”
It was Jack!
I dropped to all fours and crawled along the dock to the ladder, clinging to the bat as if it were Jack himself.
“Dolores,” Sadie whispered. “We should wait for the police.”
We should, but there was no way I was going to. I knew who Jack was with, and two people had lost their lives already. He was not going to be the third.
I ignored her and crept forward, holding my breath. Would a boat this big rock with my weight? I boarded, moving slowly. It didn’t budge. I breathed out a relieved sigh even as my heart slammed against my rib cage.
George Bonatee’s voice boomed from belowdeck. I stopped dead in my tracks. “I do care about you, but—”
Someone tapped my shoulder. I swallowed the scream in my throat and whipped my head around, my fist stopping millimeters from Mary’s face. Her face was drawn.
Holy Mary mother of God. My heart was going to explode any second from the pressure. “Why’d you come back?” I mouthed.
The tears pooling in her eyes answered my question. She couldn’t leave without knowing the truth. “My dad?” she mouthed.
I nodded, putting my finger to my lips and cocking my head to listen. No sirens yet. Dammit. Of course it took longer than five minutes to get to the river road. All I could hope was that Seavers and his troops would arrive like silent, stealthy, deadly panthers. Until then, we were on our own.
Sadie was unshakable. She crouched across from me, her face like a statue.
Another shout, and spew of words came from the cabin. A woman this time. “Just tell me why. I love you. Since I was little, I’ve loved you.”
Mary inhaled sharply and pressed one hand against her cheek in a moment of clarity. Her eyes bugged, and she rasped in my ear. “My dad and… and… and Joanie?!”
I nodded. “He’s the one that convinced her to move out when Emily needed a place to live,” I whispered. I’d had my own moment of clarity when I’d gone over my night at My Place for the fiftieth time. An interracial, May-December couple had sat at one of the tables, their backs to me. I’d bet my life that that couple had been George Bonatee and Joanie Case. It was the perfect meeting place for a clandestine rendezvous—off the beaten track and definitely not the type of place that Bonatee’s friends probably frequented. Whether he’d been comforting her, or whether she’d been trying to win him back, I might never know, but things had backfired for Joanie. Killing Emily hadn’t made Bonatee come back to her.
The crack of another gunshot cut through the air. My ears rang. We were running out of time!
From the corner of my eye, I saw Mary bolt forward and yank open the door to the cabin.
No! I tried to stop her, catching hold of her ankle. She tripped and tumbled down the short, narrow flight of stairs: The flashlight she’d been carrying bounced down after her.
The next few seconds were a blur. Sadie slithered undercover, and I dashed across the deck and hid behind a lounge chair. The door swung open, and Joanie appeared, her tawny hair disheveled. She wielded a tiny silver gun. She walked briskly across the deck. She peered into the darkness.
I shrank into the shadows.
I tried to make eye contact with Sadie, but couldn’t quite see her. We had the element of surprise, and I had to trust that Sadie was ready. Joanie turned her back to me, aiming her gun and slowing scanning the deck. Just as I was about to charge, she whipped around, elbows locked, and looked right at my hiding place. I was sure she could hear my heart beating, but I melted back into the darkness and she shifted her gaze.
“Joanie!” Mary screeched. “Stop this.”
Joanie screwed her face up. I could almost read her expression. She seemed to realize that she was going to lose control of the situation, and she dashed back to the door. Mary had managed to scramble to the top of the stairs, Jack behind her, but they both froze when they saw Joanie and her shiny silver gun.
“It’s too late,” she said. She waved the gun, and Mary backed down the stairs again. Jack had no choice but to do the same. Despite his size and strength, he was no match for the little Saturday night special. The bullets would tear apart his insides just the same as anyone else.
Where the hell had Sadie gone? I looked around but didn’t see her. I moved silently toward the cabin of the boat. Joanie had to have been the one to try to run me over at the bar, I realized. After she’d killed Emily, it seemed that she’d tried everything, including enlisting Muriel, to stop me from getting too close to the truth.
I heard a splash. Oh God, had Sadie fallen off the boat? My heart plunged into the pit of my stomach. I hoped she could swim, but I couldn’t take the time to find out.
With painstaking slowness, I opened the door just enough to sneak a look down the stairs. Joanie’s arms flailed, aiming her gun at Mary and Bonatee, then at Jack. ¡Dios mío! Was that blood trickling down Jack’s arm?
Random thoughts shot through my head. Fighting crime wasn’t like this in the movies. Well, yes, it was, but in the movies I’d look like one of Charlie’s Angels in a killer Stella McCartney ensemble instead of yoga pants, “Living la Vida Loca” would be playing in the background, and Jack would be mouthing that he loved me and wanted to father my children—all four of them. I’d have as many little Callaghan kids as he wanted, I decided.
I forced myself to be calm. Jack would be fine. He had to be. I tiptoed to the other side of the door, trying to formulate a plan.
I caught a glimpse of Joanie’s arm swinging around until it was trained on Mary. “Why are you here?”
“You and my father?” Mary shrilled. “Y-you killed Emily?”
Joanie choked out a sob. Clearly she was off her meds. Or she’d used them all up on Emily and Muriel. “She was stealing him from me.”
Mary scoffed. “You. Killed. Her. Do you understand that? You took her life.”
Joanie’s voice broke. “She didn’t even love him, and he left me for her. You can’t understand, Mary. She was going to break his heart again.”
I stood, riveted, listening to the story unfold.
“How’d you get her out here?” Mary asked.
“Oh God.” Bonatee’s deep voice oozed with pain. “I let her use the boat. I didn’t even ask why.”
Joanie interrupted. “I pretended to be George’s secretary. Called Emily and told her that he had a surprise for her. She never questioned coming on the boat.”
Mary seemed skeptical. “Why? What did she think was going to happen?”
Joanie’s sobs turned into awful laughs. “I don’t know. And I don’t care. She came, and that’s all I wanted. Halfway to Discovery Park, I made her take the pills and drink the medicine.” She waved her gun in the air, and it was clear that had been her leverage. “And after a while, I pushed her overboard.”
Tears rolled down Mary’s face. “You’re going to burn in hell.”
¡Cállate, Mary! Crazy girl. Didn’t she see the gun? I looked around when I heard a low thud behind me. Sadie, dripping wet, was creeping around to the front of the boat. Thank God. I signaled to her that I was going in—no more waiting.
Joanie’s voice drifted up. “I love you.”
I opened the door a little wider. Jack stood back against the wall, seething. No dimple for Joanie. He kept his mouth shut. Good man.
“Things change,” Bonatee said. His voice dropped to a pleading whisper. “People change.”
Joanie waved the gun erratically. “I haven’t. You cared about me.”
Bonatee sputtered and fought tears. His charming, handsome persona had completely cracked. “But I loved her.”
She aimed the gun at him. Her arms drooped, and she started crying big helpless sobs.
Bonatee tried again. “Joanie—”
“Don’t.” She ran the back of her hand under her nose. “I thought if she was g-gone, you’d c-come back to me. Don’t you see, I was trying to protect you.”
He hung his head, looking forlorn and shaken. But then, with a sudden burst of adrenaline, he lunged toward her. Joanie shrieked, startled, and pulled the trigger.
Bonatee went down like an sack of masa, his wounded leg twisted under him.
“Daddy!” Mary screamed, crouching next to him, pressing her palm against his leg. His blood spread like an oil spill.
Bonatee’s breath came in labored spurts that were matched by Joanie’s desperate heaving cries. “Oh God, no,” she sobbed. “No, George.”
“Muriel—” he managed through his clenched teeth. “You… killed her, too—”
“She was going to tell—”
“You got… her… involved. She was… just a… bartender.”
Joanie crouched in front of him, wiping away her tears. “She figured it out, George.” Her voice dropped to an erratic whisper. “I paid her. But it wasn’t enough. She knew and she was going to tell.”
I couldn’t tell how aware of her surroundings Joanie was. If I charged in, I could be shot. Or worse, Jack could be. I caught Sadie’s eye, waved my finger in the air, and pointed at the door leading belowdeck. Distraction, I mouthed.
She nodded as she inched to the side of the door, dripping, her arms bent at the elbow, her big-ass gun aimed at the sky. It was all about timing, and so far, Joanie had the upper hand, what with her hostages.
I tightened my grip on the bat. Hiking up my leg, I hit the door frame with all my might. The force of the blow reverberated up my arms and into my teeth.
“What the hell?” Joanie’s voice had regained its edge, her killer instinct surfacing. The gun popped again, and Bonatee let out an anguished cry.
Joanie wailed, and Mary cried, “My dad needs help!”
I took a deep breath, wiped the sweat off my hairline, and held the bat up above my head. Since I couldn’t go down to her, I had to get Joanie to come up to me. I brought the bat down, smashing it against the outer cabin wall.
“What is that?”
A puddle grew around Sadie’s dripping body, but she held her gun at the ready.
The sounds of shuffling footsteps drifted up to me. My stomach whirled, but I managed to choke down the bile that crept up my throat. Catching a glimpse of tawny hair, instinct took over. Heaving my knee up to gain momentum, I swung the bat around, aiming for the middle of the door this time. The crack of Joanie’s gun going off and the snap of my bat making contact with the door were simultaneous. My body twisted, and my arms followed through on the swing.
Sadie charged, gun still trained on Joanie as she wobbled on the top step.
I caught Jack’s eye and held it for a split second. He nodded, and I knew that he’d finish taking Joanie down.
Joanie’s gun dropped and bounced down the stairs. Her arms airplaned as she tried to keep her balance. From the corner of my eye, I saw Jack move. I crow-hopped, hiked up my knee, and kicked her in the sternum. She wobbled, but managed to stay balanced; Jack was up the stairs in a split second and had his arms around her in a death grip. Her arms flailed and she kicked, but he maneuvered her to the ground. With her face down, he straddled her back and clasped her wrists with his good hand.
Mary held the gun by the tips of her finge
rs. I rushed down, Sadie at my heels, whipped the handcuffs from my pants, and slapped them on Joanie Case.
Finito. It was over.
Chapter 23
Detective Seavers barreled down the dock, gun drawn, following after uniformed officers. About time. They sped onto the boat. A minute later, two officers dragged Joanie back up with them.
Jack came up next. His injured arm hung limp by his side. Guilt flooded me when I saw the blood running down it. “Oh my God.” He looked at me. His temple pulsed—whether from pain or anger, I couldn’t tell. I didn’t care. I whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
“Can’t say I like the people you hang with, Lola.”
Right, like I hung with Joanie Case—although I’d actually thought about it. She’d been so nice and had seemed so grounded and had great workout clothes. “I’m not a huge fan of them myself at the moment.” Except for Sadie. Tonight I was a big fan of hers. She’d stuck by me.
Jack’s gaze drifted over my shoulder, and I turned to see what had caught his eye. Manny stood at the end of the dock, talking to a police officer.
Sadie was hurrying over to them. “I especially don’t like him,” Jack said, his teeth gritted.
I chose to ignore the comment—and the fact that Jack was practically shooting death rays at Manny. Camacho was my boss. No getting away from that. But his timing certainly sucked.
Jack tried to unbutton his shirt with one hand. “Help me get this off,” he said to me.
I undid the buttons and slid the shirt off his good arm first, working the fabric over the injury on his other arm. Even with a bullet wound, he looked good.
He kept silent. Maybe he didn’t want to think about why he’d taken a bullet. He clutched the shirt against his arm to stop the blood, grimacing at me.
“Your research is top notch,” I said, smiling to fight back the tears that threatened.
“Got me in deep water tonight.”
“What happened?” I asked. I was dying to know how Jack had ended up right in the thick of my case.
“I followed the lead on the boat and walked right in on Joanie begging Bonatee to take her back.” He gave a sheepish grin and a little shrug. “She saw me, pulled out that gun, and went postal.”
Melissa Bourbon Ramirez - Lola Cruz 01 - Living the Vida Lola Page 26
