by Liliana Hart
“Are you talking about Jack or the case?” I asked.
“Both,” Carver said. “Sleep tight.” And then he disconnected and his face disappeared from the whiteboard.
“What was that all about?” I asked. “Why isn’t Carver sleeping? And why’s he trying to hide it from you?”
“Sometimes sleep is the worst thing you can do in our line of work,” Jack said. “Because then the dreams come and you wake up in a cold sweat, trying to remember where you are and why you’re still alive. It started after we left the Marines. But you don’t talk about it. You just pretend it doesn’t exist and you move on. We both finished college while in the military and we both moved on to law enforcement, though in very different aspects. But there are things in the world of war that can’t ever be unseen or undone, it doesn’t matter if it’s on our own soil or someone else’s. Some days it gets easier and you think it’s gone away. And then some nights it comes back in full force and you watch the window and pray for the sun to come up.”
“PTSD,” I said.
Jack nodded. “Everyone finds their coping mechanism.”
“What’s yours?” I asked.
He shut down the computer and the wall screen went blank. “You are,” he said, reaching for my hand and taking it in his. “We’ve got an early morning ahead of us. Let’s go to bed.”
I squeezed his hand and studied his face, but it was clear and there was peace. I didn’t see any of the demons there that were tormenting Carver.
11
It was the first solid night’s sleep I’d had in a while, and morning had come much too soon.
I looked at the clock on the bedside table and corrected that thought. Morning wasn’t the right word. It was still the middle of the night, and everyone should be asleep. I couldn’t imagine what kind of insane person wanted to get up at this time to ride a bicycle in the dark around the county, but apparently they existed.
I heard the shower running, and I smelled coffee, but I snuggled under the blanket a little longer. I was naked and felt like a lazy, satisfied cat, and the last thing I wanted to do was go stand in the cold with a bunch of people in spandex. But such was life.
I lifted the covers enough to reach for the coffee mug, thankful that Jack was a creature of habit and loved mornings as much as I despised them, and I managed to position myself so I didn’t spill hot coffee on my skin as I took my first sip.
I heard the water turn off and a few seconds later I saw the lights come on from beneath my cocoon and Jack snorted with laughter at the sight of me.
“I’m going to assume the giant lump is you under there,” he said. “Better hit the shower if you want to talk to our suspects.”
I slowly pulled the covers down from over my head and let my eyes adjust to the light.
“You’re not terrible to look at first thing in the morning,” I told him. He was standing in the doorway between the bed and the bathroom with only a towel wrapped low on his hips and droplets of water on his shoulders. The scars on his chest and ribs were a constant reminder of how lucky I was he was still here, and the tattoo on his hip was a reminder that he really liked for that spot to be kissed.
I blew a strand of hair out of my face and Jack grinned. I knew my morning appearance wasn’t nearly as appealing as Jack’s. “Maybe we should just call it a day and get back in bed.”
“Sex is the downfall of athletes everywhere,” he said, tossing his towel over the hook and heading to the dresser to pull out clothes. “You never have sex before a big race. You’ll lose every time.”
“I guess it’s a good thing my racing days are over,” I said, tossing back the covers and climbing out of bed. When the election was over Tuesday I vowed to spend the rest of the week in bed as much as possible. Election season was exhausting. Murder was exhausting. And relationships were exhausting. I’d hit the exhausting triumvirate.
I padded the way to the bathroom, thankful for heated floors, and I finished my coffee in the shower. It was Saturday, and the last remaining tornado victim was scheduled for a memorial later in the afternoon, and her funeral was tomorrow. I trusted Lily, Emmy Lu, and Sheldon (kind of), to finish off the weekend strong. And I was going to keep my fingers crossed we didn’t get any new arrivals between now and election day. The whole staff was going to need a vacation before this was over.
I dressed casual and warm, thinking about the morning spent at the lab collecting samples from the water bottles and having them fingerprinted, and then I hurried down the stairs, knowing Jack was waiting for me.
“Hello, spandex,” I said when I saw him in the kitchen, pouring a to-go mug of coffee for me. He was dressed a lot like Brett Jorgenson when we found his body, and the thought gave me pause. A cyclist would never be a match for a car. The roads were slick and visibility wasn’t great.
“As hot as you look,” I said, “I’m not sure this is the best idea for you to ride with the group. And don’t forget one of them is a murderer.”
“It’s been a few years, but I know what I’m doing,” he said. And then he grinned wickedly. “It’ll be just like—”
“No, don’t say it,” I said, shaking my head.
“Riding a bike,” he finished.
I blew out a sigh and took the to-go mug from him. “You’re in a good mood this morning.”
“What’s not to be in a good mood about? I woke up this morning. That’s always a plus considering the alternative. I woke up next to a beautiful, naked woman, who happens to be the love of my life and my wife. Also a plus. And I’m about to hit the open road and do something I love and haven’t made the time for.
“There’s only so many things in life we can control,” he said. “All this other stuff that’s happening around us? That’s out of our control. Come Tuesday whatever happens, happens. That’s the American way. I’ve poured everything into this job the last four years, but this election has made me realize that I can’t pour into everyone and everything else and not pour into me. We tend to get wrapped in work, especially since we do it together, but I’m going to start taking my days off. I’m going to start doing the things I love again. And I’m going to make sure that we’re taking the time together we need to stay a tight unit. Politics is dirty, and it can take a toll. I didn’t realize how much until this last week.”
“Does this mean I need to find a hobby?” I asked. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always been grateful that you’re into fitness and exercise and health because I clearly reap the benefits—last night exhibit A. My enjoyment comes from more sedentary entertainment.”
“Till death do us part, right?” Jack said, leading me to the front to get our coats. He carried a black gym bag.
I was trying to figure out if the till death do us part comment was meant as a warning that my lack of health consciousness would lead to an early death, but I was enjoying the morning too much. It was nice to feel like I was back on solid ground.
Jack had left his Tahoe in the garage and chosen his pickup instead. It was sitting in the driveway with the ignition and headlights turned on. It was still dark outside. His bike was in a rack in the back, and I couldn’t remember ever seeing it. Though to be fair, there was a lot of stuff in the garage that fell into the “toy” category that I wasn’t familiar with. He tossed the black bag in the bed, and I hurried around to the passenger side and opened the door.
I wasn’t a fan of getting weather this cold this early in the year. It didn’t bode well for the months ahead. At least the rain had cleared off for now, though I wasn’t sure how long it was going to hold off.
“Are any of the club members holdovers from when you were involved?” I asked, snuggling into the seat and thankful for seat warmers and the fact that I had a husband who thought about things like warming the car before you got in. I never remembered that stuff.
“A couple of them,” he said. “Mitch and Gloria Padgett are longtime riders. They’re dentists. Ginny Grant was there when I was riding and so was Mario Ricci and Benj
i Lyles. And Vaughn of course. Everyone else is new to me though. There were only fourteen that showed up Thursday night for the ride, plus Brett, but there are probably a couple of hundred people in the bike club. You’ll have stragglers that’ll catch a ride or two a week, but it’s few that are diehards and will catch every ride. The women tend to be divorced or young and single.”
“Husband hunters?” I asked.
Jack’s mouth quirked in a smile. “Something like that,” he said. “There have been several hookups over the years, a couple that led to marriage. Like I said, it’s a social club.”
There was no traffic on the way to King George, but when we pulled into the parking lot at Vaughn’s it was full of cars and bicycles. There were bikes everywhere, propped against the railing and vehicles. I’d never seen anything like it.
It was complete chaos as people walked around half dressed in the cold, steam rising from bodies and breath. There was an undercurrent of excitement, as groups huddled together and spoke in hushed whispers, as bikes were looked over and admired.
“This is a heck of a lot more than fourteen people,” I said.
“They’re wearing black armbands,” Jack said, pointing out the black strip of cloth wrapped around everyone’s biceps. “It looks like they’re doing a memorial ride for Brett. Usually when there’s a special ride they’ll announce it on social media and other clubs from the state are welcome to join.”
“Oh, good,” I said. “That should make our job much easier.”
“Look,” Jack said, pointing to a group standing on the far side of the lot. “That’s Old Dominion. They’re wearing blue and silver. Each of the team clubs have their own colors.”
“It really is like the Hells Angels of bicycles,” I said.
“Don’t tell Carver,” Jack said. “He’ll be disappointed he missed it. Though typically people in this tax bracket don’t resort to barroom brawls and back-alley stabbings. But they do have their fair share of drama.”
We parked and I watched in fascination as Jack got his bike from the rack and then went through the routine of putting various things in pouches and pockets. He wore an Old Dominion jersey like the others, and he pulled on a skullcap and arm warmers with practiced ease. He put on his cycling shoes, and then he was clip-clopping his way across the pavement like everyone else.
I followed close behind, content to be more of an observer. I recognized most everyone from their pictures. There were a couple of extras who hadn’t been on the Thursday ride, so I wasn’t as interested in them.
“Sheriff,” Mitch Padgett said, coming over to shake Jack’s hand. His teeth were perfect and blindingly white, which I guess was a good advertisement considering his profession. “Good to see you back on a ride. Terrible shame about Brett. He was a good guy. You’ve got mine and Gloria’s support for the election. I think Vaughn would kick us out of the group if we didn’t support you.” His handshake was enthusiastic, and Jack skillfully extracted himself from the guy’s grip.
I looked among the faces of the crowd and stopped when I came across Leslie Carroll. She’d been watching the exchange between Mitch and Jack, and she didn’t seem too happy to hear that Mitch was throwing his support behind Jack if her scowl said anything about it.
Vaughn came up and slapped Jack on the back good-naturedly and tossed him an armband. “We decided to dedicate the ride to Brett,” he said. “We should have close to a hundred riders today.”
Jack’s lips pressed together and he gave Vaughn a side-eye. “I don’t suppose you let the sheriff’s office know the route or anything like that to help with traffic?”
Vaughn winced. “It was kind of a last-minute thing. Besides, we’re taking off in shifts so it’s not so crowded on the roads. Each team leader has the route and their start time. It’ll work out okay.”
“Oh, Mrs. Lawson,” Mitch said, stopping directly in front of me. No one ever called me Mrs. Lawson, so it took me a minute to figure out who he was talking to. “Are you riding in the support van? I’m glad to see you here. I was telling Gloria just the other day that you couldn’t believe everything you saw in the media. We’ll see y’all Tuesday night at the watch party. We’re good friends with Jack’s mom and dad.”
I gave him a genuine smile and a thank-you, but I kept an eye on Leslie Carroll to see if she’d been listening. She was in conversation with Zoe Krantz, a young black woman I knew to be a local attorney from her background check, but I could tell Leslie was paying close attention to what was going on with Jack. Interesting.
“Hey, man,” Adam Taylor said, coming up behind Vaughn and hitting him in the shoulder. “Adam Taylor.” He stuck his hand out to Jack’s for an introduction.
“Jack Lawson,” Jack said. “Nice to meet you.”
Adam Taylor was even better looking in person than in his photograph, and it was easy to peg him for military by his posture and athletic build. There was no fat anywhere on that man. His hair was longer than it was in his DMV picture, and it was a light brown that had lighter streaks running through it. He pulled out a head wrap similar to Jack’s and pulled it down over his head.
There was an exuberance that radiated from Adam Taylor. It shone in his eyes and his smile. It made him look younger. I knew from his file he was twenty-nine and had served honorably in the navy for the past ten years. He was the boy next door, sculpted cheeks and crystalline blue eyes, and there was the slightest hint of a dimple in his chin.
“I’ve heard all about you from Vaughn,” Adam said. “You must be a great guy. I’d be jealous if I didn’t know you were married.”
I decided it was a good time to insert myself into the conversation. I could’ve sworn I saw Vaughn blush, and I wasn’t sure what was going on in Jack’s mind.
“Hi,” I said, moving in next to Jack and putting my arm around him. We were never much for public displays of affection, but I felt the need to align myself with Jack for Vaughn’s sake. Maybe we were both overprotective after how devastated Vaughn had been after Daniel’s murder.
“I’m J.J. Graves,” I told Adam.
“Yes, Dr. Graves,” he said, shaking my hand warmly. “I’ve heard all about you too.”
“Oh, well…” I said, my smile strained as I tried to think which horrible things about my life Vaughn had chosen to share with him.
Adam leaned in and whispered, “Hey, you can’t pick your family, right? I’ll tell you all about mine someday over drinks. I promise it’ll make you feel better.”
I couldn’t help but smile. He had that kind of contagious personality, and I could see why Vaughn liked him.
“I’d like that,” I said.
“You coming on the ride?” Adam asked.
“Definitely not,” I said. “I’m just dropping Jack off before I head over to the funeral home.”
His smile disappeared. “It was terrible what happened to Brett yesterday. It really makes you think about how vulnerable you are out there, especially alone. But once you get that taste of freedom, the risk becomes worth it.”
“Did you know Brett well?” I asked.
“About as well as any of us know each other,” he said. “It’s mostly casual friendships that develop here. Everyone loves to ride, so we have that in common. I can’t say that Brett was really close to anyone though. Maybe Ginny. They talked a lot. But I don’t know if Brett had a guy he’d go have a beer with or something. Know what I mean? He never came with us when we’d meet up for a drink after a ride somewhere.”
“Who’s Ginny?” I asked. I vaguely remembered her photograph from the night before, but nothing really stood out in my mind other than Jack saying she’d been a member of the club when he’d ridden before.
“She’s over there talking to Benji,” Adam said. “Come to think of it, I think maybe Benji and Brett might have gone out a time or two. I think they’re in the same business or something. They were always talking about the stock market.” Adam looked at Jack and said, “Glad to have you on the ride. Hope you can keep up.
” He slapped Jack on the shoulder and then took off toward the bike that was resting against the back of a tan Jeep.
“Wow,” I said, pursing my lips at Vaughn. “He has a lot of…energy.”
Vaughn laughed out loud, and it was nice to hear the sound, but Jack brought us back to the task at hand.
“Was Ginny making moves on Brett?” Jack asked.
“She sure gave it her best shot,” Vaughn said.
I peeked around Vaughn’s shoulder to get a glimpse of the woman in question. She was still talking to Benji Lyles, and it looked like whatever they were discussing was pretty serious.
She must have had a bad day at the DMV because that picture didn’t do her justice. She was built, and spandex was clearly her friend because it defined everything and left nothing to the imagination. Her bright red hair was braided down her back and framed an alabaster face with the most perfect nose I’d ever seen and full lips that were made for nothing but sin.
“And did Brett reciprocate?” I asked.
“Nope,” Vaughn said. “And she was not happy about it. You know how she is.”
I arched a brow at that and gave Jack a look, but he avoided my gaze. “I don’t know how she is,” I said. “Maybe you could fill me in.”
“She’s always on the prowl,” Jack said. “And she likes to get her way. Men are a challenge to her. The more married, the bigger the challenge. She can pour on the charm when she wants, and when she doesn’t want to its best to stay in the clear. As long as you don’t get attached she’s basically harmless.”
“Unless Brett rejected her and she went crazy and decided to kill him,” I said. “Lord have mercy.” At some point in our life together I’d love to stop coming face to face with the women Jack had had a relationship with.
Vaughn covered his laugh with a cough.
“What about the guy she’s with?” I asked. “Benji Lyles. He’s got a twenty-year-old cocaine conviction and a career in finance. Between Brett’s rejection of Ginny and whatever he and Benji had to talk about when they went out together, it seems like they might have something to hide about our victim. Not to mention they don’t look too happy with each other at the moment.”
