Huh? Delgado? Funny?
"He's still there?"
The surprise in my voice clearly didn't filter through to Serena. "Yes. We just opened a bottle of wine."
Double huh. On the plus side, I pitied Ted if he decided to turn up tonight while Delgado was there. Perhaps it was a good thing Serena had company. On picturing Ted skulking around the house in the dark and coming up against the brick wall that was Delgado, I couldn’t help but smile.
"Victoria okay?" I asked.
"Peachy. She spent twenty minutes bouncing on Antonio's knee and then she fell asleep."
Though the idea of Victoria bouncing on Antonio's knee brought a smile to my face, my heart burned. I missed Victoria. I had a bunch of other nephews and nieces, but there was nothing like a baby to tug the heartstrings. Given my current state of romantic strife, she could very well end up being the last baby I got to cuddle. Big wah.
"Okay, well, I was just checking in. I’m glad you’re okay. Talk soon?"
"Great! Later, Lexi."
I stared at the phone as Serena hung up. I had the funny feeling that I interrupted the best night Serena was having in a long time. Not that I could object to that because Serena deserved happiness after everything she'd been through. When she was pregnant, she confessed to me that she'd wanted to be a mom for a long time, but the process—a sick-inducing thought—had taken longer than she thought. Her dicks of employers had subsequently let her go; even though she'd put virtually every waking hour into the company since she joined. To make matters worse, she suspected Ted was having an affair, something I had to confirm.
Since then, Serena's life was one of ups and downs. She filed for divorce and started her own accounting business. She put up with Ted playing nasty purely because she had a baby with him. I couldn't imagine how tough it was for her, because if there was one thing Ted hated, it was not being in control. He seemed determined to punish Serena for his own shortcomings.
If Serena was having a good time with Antonio Delgado, if she got to take a little time out from Ted's nastiness, then I was happy for her.
Even if it was weird.
As I stared out the window, it struck me suddenly that everyone was happy except me.
Lily and Jord were not only dating, but going at light speed, given how much time they now spent together. Garrett had always been madly in love with Traci. Daniel had Alice. My parents had each other. And where was I? Miles from home, boyfriendless again, and with a man that I didn't quite know what to do with.
Well, I had some good ideas what I could do with him, but none which could get around the fact that in the morning, he would still be my boss. And if I ever wanted more from my relationship with Solomon, such as it was, I doubted it would be a rebound screw. That would only insult us both.
I could wallow in despair, and be angry with my lot, or I could fight back. Just because Maddox apparently didn't want me, didn't mean I couldn't be happy. I had girlfriends, I had a life. I didn't have to hide under my duvet and cry for the next six months, even if a bit of me really, really wanted to.
Instead, as Solomon bent his head over the laptop, his fingers flying across the keys, I called up my text messages and shot off a message to Lily suggesting a girls’ night out when I got back to town. Two minutes later, Lily agreed.
See? It was easy. I could fill my life with enough stuff that I wouldn't have to miss Maddox. Eventually, he would just fade away like a bad memory and I would be fine. It would be easy.
Solomon looked over and smiled, dazzling me momentarily with his handsome looks.
Yeah. Easy, like one, two, three.
Chapter Ten
When quiet descended over the office a few seconds after the doorbell announced someone's entrance, I couldn't help turning around to see who precipitated the sudden silence. Standing at the counter was a slim, angular woman in her twenties. Wavy, pale brown hair, subtly highlighted in caramels, hung around an oval face that framed reddened eyes. A brightly colored, silk scarf was wound around the woman’s neck with the ends tucked inside her denim jacket. Her eyes darted from the floor to the desk, as she gulped, then all over the office, seeming to look for something, or someone. She laid a leather purse on the reception desk and waved, then started to smile, but seemed to give up as the edges of her lips returned to the default grim line.
For a moment, I couldn’t place her, although I was sure I should know her face.
"Roxanne!" Ruth swept over, taking control of the situation, and answering my unasked question.
"Who?" I mouthed to Gretchen. Not that I needed to know, of course. I knew. Roxanne Connor, Jillian’s sister, was high up on my list of people to talk to, to find out if she knew anything about her sister's murder. Lucky me, she was in the office, which made nailing her down so much easier.
"Jillian's sister," Gretchen whispered, confirming my suspicion.
I nodded, pretending to turn back to the spreadsheet that I'd been assigned. Row after row needed to be filled in with data; and it was my job to extract the information from the thick stack of papers, update the spreadsheet and send it to Ruth for checking. It was about as much fun as a paper cut. As I bent my head over the sheaf of papers, I listened in to their conversation, which took place just a few feet away at the reception desk.
"All Jillian's personal things were packed away. I think your parents have them," I heard Ruth tell her. "I don't think there was much. She kept a tidy desk."
"I know. I saw the box, but I was looking for something else," Roxanne explained in a low voice, barely audible from where I was sitting. "Maybe if I could look through her desk?" she asked in a hopeful, plaintive voice.
"I packed her things myself. There's nothing left," Ruth insisted. From the corner of my eye, I saw Ruth do a half turn towards me, showing Roxanne that her sister's desk was now occupied again. By me.
"I meant on her computer. She told me she was going to email me something and I never got it," Roxanne said, her words sliding together as she rushed an explanation. Her breathing accelerated slightly and she gulped again. A hand darted through her hair, pushing it behind her ears. If she weren’t standing in the spot where her sister was murdered, a spot that would understandably make her tense and nervous, I would have assumed she was lying.
I saw Ruth's shoulders do a quick rise and fall before I pretended to pore over the paperwork. "Her log-in was locked. You know, I couldn't give you access anyway. Base policy. Did you try her folder on the shared server?" she suggested.
"Yes, but I couldn't find it. That's why I thought it might be on her computer here."
"Sorry, I wish I could be more help. Was it something important?"
"No," said Roxanne, but I couldn't help thinking she sounded disappointed. "It was just a file. Nothing important."
The knowledge of a file lurking somewhere was interesting, especially if it was something important enough for Roxanne to want to locate now, despite what happened to her sister. The more I thought about her demeanor, the more I was certain Roxanne was lying. Her voice started off nervy and became even more so the longer her explanation ran on. Whether she was lying about the existence of the file, or what was in it, I wasn't sure. Whatever the ruse, she definitely wanted access to the computer I currently used.
"I wish I could help," Ruth said again.
"It's no problem. Really," said Roxanne, backing away towards the door. She gave Ruth a little wave and pulled her scarf tighter before reaching for the door handle. At the same moment, the handle turned, and the door opened.
I watched as Roxanne jumped backwards and a man entered. A flash of panic streaked across her face as she darted sideways, nodding at the newcomer before circling around him and walking hurriedly out the door, her grip tightening on her canvas bag. I shifted in my seat, and a couple of minutes later, Roxanne passed the office window on the other side of the building, her head down, shoulders hunched as she buttoned her jacket against the cold wind that had been blowing steadily since the m
orning.
I glanced back over my shoulder at the man who spooked her, but he was deep in conversation with Ruth, asking something about consignment dates and fulfillment that simultaneously boggled and bored me. He noticed me looking and nodded, then Ruth said something I couldn't quite hear, but I figured was about me, seeing as she called me over.
"This is Sergeant Jack Hoag," she said. Hoag reached a hand over the desk, shaking mine as I came to a stop on the other side. His smiling mouth revealed a perfect row of white teeth. With his tanned, good looks and short sandy blond hair, he could have been the poster child for the Army, the type of soldier they wanted on recruitment billboards.
"How's life on base?" he asked me pleasantly, his eyes indicating he wasn’t just being polite, but friendly too. "Ruth says you're new."
"Fine. I'm glad to find a job so quickly."
Hoag cut a glance at Mitch's office where the boss was working his way through a mound of paperwork. "Handy that there was an opening," he said, then shook his head, the smile dropping as he realized what he said. "Terrible business with Jillian. I'm glad they've got that son of a bitch locked up where he can't hurt anyone else."
"You really think this Tate guy did it?" I asked. I twirled a finger through a lock of hair and wished I had some gum to pop.
Hoag gave me an incredulous look as he lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. "Sure. He was practically caught red-handed and he's as good as admitted it."
Ruth glanced up from the papers she assembled. "Oh?" she said, surprised. “He did?”
"He hasn’t said he's innocent," Hoag said, by way of explanation. He placed his forearms on the desk and leaned forwards, apparently in no hurry. "If I was innocent, I'd be yelling it to anyone who’d listen. Now don't worry, ladies, he's going away for a long time." He gave us a reassuring nod as his eyes flashed from Ruth to me.
“Well, that’s good to know,” said Ruth, but she didn’t seem too sure. She finished assembling the file and slid it over the countertop.
Hoag tucked the file under his arm and signed his name against the receipt. "You'll all be at the homecoming shindig on the weekend?” He stood up straighter, looking between the two of us, and raised his voice. “Gretchen, you're gonna come, right?"
"Sure," called Gretchen from the back. I think she blushed at the Adonis smile he flashed her.
"Great. Take care now. See you again soon." He waved as he exited, all smiles and handsome features.
I turned to Gretchen, nudging Ruth in the side with my elbow. "I think someone's sweet on Sergeant Hoag," I said loudly, and was rewarded by Gretchen flushing red and fanning herself with a used envelope.
Gretchen turned to watch Hoag walk past the window, following Roxanne's direction. She gave him a finger wave as he passed by and sighed as he blew a kiss in return, then waved cheerfully before crossing over the street. She spun in her chair to face us. "Okay," she said, "I wasn't going to tell anyone, but Jack Hoag and I are sort of dating."
"No!" Denise turned to her, disbelief in evidence on her face "You and... him?"
Gretchen’s face fell and her forehead knitted into a cross frown at Denise’s tone. "Yeah. Why not?"
"Well, he... uh..."
Gretchen's momentarily happy face continued to crumble. Walking over there, I perched on her desk and let my legs swing. "Tell me how you snapped up that fine piece of man hunk," I demanded, before Denise could put her foot in it. I winked at Gretchen. "Just in case I ever get single again."
"As if!" Gretchen snorted. Yeah, she had a point. Who would leave Solomon after managing to catch him? Well, I hadn’t managed to catch him, I had to remind myself, as a strange twinge pulled in the pit of my stomach. I ignored it as Gretchen shook out her hair with a wriggle of her head and wrinkled her nose at Denise. Then she turned her attention back to me and Ruth, who had come to a stop behind me. "It was just last week actually,” she said in a conspiratorially low voice. “We were at Jillian's wake."
"He came onto you at Jillian's wake?" asked Denise in a disgusted tone.
"No!" Gretchen protested with a shake of her head, turning back to Ruth and me. "Well, maybe,” she conceded, “but he was really nice about it. I was upset and he passed me a tissue and we got to talking; then he said why don't we go see a movie? Take our minds off it... poor Jillian. So, I said 'sure, why not?' and the next night, we went out to a movie. Then last Friday, we had dinner and he was so sweet and..."
I dipped my head towards her and loudly whispered, "Did he kiss you?"
Gretchen giggled. "Yes. Ohmigod! He knows how to kiss, like knows." She flashed wide eyes at us.
Denise snorted and muttered something derisory about Hoag smooching his way around the base.
"You're just jealous," Gretchen snapped.
The edges of Denise's nose twitched. "Of you and Mr. Dumb and Blond?"
"At least, he pays attention to me," Gretchen fired back, promptly turning her back on Denise, who made a scowl that could peel wallpaper.
"Where's he taking you next?" Ruth asked, deflecting whatever Denise was about to retaliate with; then, in an aside to me, "I live vicariously through other people."
Yeah. Me too. We shared a smile and turned to Gretchen, waiting expectantly.
"Some bar off base in Chester that he said I'd love. We're going on the weekend."
"Sounds great," I said, sliding off the desk. "I hope you have a brilliant time."
"And tell us every detail next week," added Ruth. Obviously remembering I'd been hired to cover Jillian's part time hours, she said, "We'll rehash it for you if you're not in, Lexi."
"Awesome."
"Not that she'll need to listen after a weekend with her hubby," giggled Gretchen.
I grimaced as I slid off the desk and crossed to my own temporary one, slipping onto my chair and tucking my legs underneath. I hadn't asked Solomon if we were supposed to be staying on base and keeping up the charade for another weekend. I suspected it was a case of suck it up, part of Solomon's mission to stay “in character,” and also so we could snoop when the majority of the civilians were gone. My first day at his agency, he carefully explained that weekends and evenings were not off limits in the course of a job, a downside that was negated by the lie-ins and time off when business was slow.
I had a sudden yearning for my bed, a night out with Lily, and my mother's roast chicken. I wanted to pull a blanket up to my chin and watch trashy television on the couch while eating cake. I wanted my whole family around me, arguing through dinner, and I wanted to bounce baby Victoria on my knee and cuddle her tiny little body.
On the downside, the minute I returned to Montgomery, Maddox would probably appear, wanting to talk and give me some lame ass explanation of the woman I photographed him with and I'd probably cry.
Even worse, he wouldn't show up at all.
I gulped down the anxiety that swam through me and buried myself in the mindless monotony of spreadsheets, keeping one ear open for any worthwhile gossip that could help us crack the case.
Roxanne didn't return that day, so I didn't get much of an opportunity to ask about her either, what with the bickering between Denise and Gretchen. It ended up with Ruth insisting on a silent hour and she closed the door on their squabbling. Solomon stopped by at lunch for a few minutes, long enough to tell me he was going to be late that evening, and disappeared again without so much as a hand squeeze. For the rest of the day, I wondered if he were mad at me, my mind alternating between it being very unlikely that the lack of a kiss could put him in a grump, and wondering why I didn't just kiss him when I had the chance.
I was still thinking about why I suddenly focused on kissing him when I returned to the apartment and changed out of my pants and shirt into my pajamas. Following an evening of watching TV, I wondered where my fake husband had gotten to. As I crossed the room to fold my clothes away, a movement on the path, partially concealed by the building's shadows, made me lean forward and squint. Another lurch had me pressing my forehead to the wi
ndow, and this time, I could clearly make out a figure leaning against the wall, hunching over, one hand pressed to his side.
The moonlight caught the man's face. Solomon.
And he was hurt.
I ran out of the apartment, snatching up the keys in my haste, banging the door behind me and flew down the stairs, taking the exit at a run, skidding to a barefooted halt at his side as I reached for him.
Solomon straightened up, his face showing pain. I took in the blood smeared from his nose and across his cheek.
"What happened?"
"Let's get inside," he grunted, his large hand gripping my shoulder.
The only thing I could squeak was, "Sure." I opened the door, stepping back to hold it wide for Solomon. He limped through, his other hand still clamped at his left side and a painful groan escaped him. I hooked his arm over my shoulder, half surprised he didn't protest, and up the stairs we went. I grappled with the lock while he leaned against the wall, then helped propel him inside. "Bathroom," I told him, directing him to sit on the lip of the tub while I ran warm water into the sink. "So?" I prompted as I tested the water.
"I got jumped." His voice came out as a painful wheeze.
I stared at him. Then I blinked. Getting the drop on Solomon was akin to trying to sneak up on a ninja. Solomon didn't get jumped. Solomon was smooth and silent. Right now a vein pulsed in his forehead and his mouth was set in a thin line. He was angry.
"Huh," I said. It seemed a safe summation of the events. I soaked a flannel, wrung it out and pressed it gently to Solomon's cheek, washing away the blood until I could see the cut. "Doesn't look deep," I told him, my eyes traveling across his face to inspect the smears of drying blood from his nose. "Not enough for stitches. And your nose isn't broken. Take off your shirt."
Not the way I'd ever imagined saying that.
Command Indecision (Lexi Graves Mysteries) Page 12
