An Artifact of Death

by Anna Philpot

  “All right. Call me if you need me.”

  His footsteps retreated back down her short hall.

  She settled her forehead on the soft, white terrycloth covering her knees and breathed deeply. She was a mess.

  This past year, she’d managed to get herself into way too many tight spots. Granted, there was no way she could have known she’d walked into an international spy game last week. Her frown deepened. Nor would she have left her congregants Henry and Grace to deal with their kidnapped child alone. And her sister’s murderer…Cici could never be upset for the justice served there.

  She lifted her head and stared at the nicks covering her hands and forearms interlaced with purplish and yellowing bruising. She knew, because she’d looked before she entered the shower, that her nose peeled from overexposure to the harsh New Mexican sunlight and a large abrasion bisected her temple, angry and red and ugly.

  “Cee?” Sam asked again.

  With a start, Cici realized she’d been sitting on the floor, zoned out for a while. The lack of clarity, the inability to focus, had been happening too often since she returned from the hospital.

  “Yep. Coming.”

  “I’m going to take the dogs out for a quick walk. Will you be okay for a few minutes?”

  Relief flooded her system. “Great. They’ll love that. I’m just…just drying my hair.”

  She picked up the wet ends and grimaced at the clumps of conditioner glopping from the long, dark strands onto the towel. She waited until she heard the dogs’ excited prancing. Sam spoke to them in that low voice of his that never ceased to cause a soft ripple of response across the nerve endings at her nape. He was nearby and she was safe. Her back door clicked shut.

  Cici stood on weak legs and turned on the tap in the shower. She plunged back inside, ignoring the sting of cold droplets on her shoulders and back. She shoved her head into the warming spray and washed out her hair even as her stomach convulsed and she gasped for air.

  Cici managed to dress in a pair of wide-legged pajama pants that allowed her to strap on her ugly, clunky black boot beneath and a matching T-shirt. It was a gift from her friend who’d stopped by earlier in the day along with just about the entirety of the city. Well, maybe not all of the city, but at least most of her church members had dropped in to say hello and gawk at her injuries.

  She managed to comb through her wet hair and towel it dry enough not to leave stains on her clothing. She gathered her dirty clothes and the wet towels and started a load of wash. Exhaustion tugged at her joints and the pain in her ankle forced her to her couch. Sam found her tucked under a thick blanket, reading, when he returned from his walk to the park with the Great Pyrenees. Mona and Rodolfo grinned, their pink tongues lolling over the side of their black lips.

  “They like the cooler temperatures,” Sam said. “They frisked around at the park, and I didn’t have the heart to leash them right back up and bring them home.”

  Cici smiled as she shut her novel. She reached over to pet Rodolfo’s soft ears. Mona laid her head in Cici’s lap, giving her a soulful look from her dark eyes.

  “While they keep you company, I’ll fix you a plate for dinner. Have a preference?”

  Mrs. Sanchez, the church secretary, had set up a meal train for Cici, which left her fridge and freezer full of delicious food. Cici would have asked them to stop, but she understood the desire to do something to show their concern for her continued wellbeing. Plus, Sam enjoyed sampling the range of options throughout the day since the first container arrived yesterday morning, full of large, homemade blueberry muffins.

  “Whatever you’re having,” Cici said. She remained disinterested in food, a side-effect from the trauma—at least, that’s what she assumed. Still, she needed calories and Sam’s face scrunched in concern, so she smiled a little and said, “Surprise me.”

  He moved around in the kitchen, and Cici heard him opening and shutting cabinets and the refrigerator. After he placed something in the microwave, he brought her one of her pain pills and a glass of water.

  Cici wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want to take the pills. They make me sleepy.”

  Sam picked up her hand and dropped the medication into it. “Well, you need to take it. Because if you don’t, you won’t sleep tonight at all. Your ankle has to be throbbing.”

  It was because the break was still so fresh and she’d walked on it too much during the day. She turned her head, causing stabbing pains to radiate up to her jaw. With a sigh, she swallowed the pill. Sam nodded before heading back into the kitchen to grab their dinner.

  “I could sit at the table,” Cici called.

  “Don’t you dare get up,” Sam said. He laid an old, fraying dishtowel over her lap. The Monet print on it had faded from years of washing. It had once belonged to her mother and was her favorite—the only reason Cici kept it.

  The moment of sadness ended as the delicious aroma wafting from Mrs. Sanchez’s blue corn chicken enchiladas caused Cici’s stomach to rumble. Sam settled a plate in her lap.

  “You’re good at this,” Cici said.

  Sam settled into the nearest chair with his own loaded plate and a beer. “What’s that?”

  “Taking care of me,” she said.

  He paused, his fork hovering over the cheesy tortillas. “I like taking care of you,” he said, his voice soft.

  His tone, combined with that look, caused tears to prick in her eyes. “Thank you for being here,” Cici said.

  Sam nodded and then tipped his head toward her plate. “Eat.”

  She managed to devour two helpings before groaning in appreciation. Maybe she was hungry under the knots of anxiety that had taken up residence in her gut.

  She patted her stomach as she leaned over to set her dish on the coffee table. Mona, her female Great Pyrenees, lifted her head and eyed it, causing Cici to chuckle. “Don’t even think about it.”

  She swung her legs over the side of the couch, but Sam said, his tone much sterner than hers had been, “You don't even think about it.”

  “What?”

  “Getting up. I’ll do the dishes.”

  Cici shook her head. “You don’t have to baby me, Sam.”

  “Didn’t I tell you I like taking care of you?”

  He grabbed her plate, stacked it on his, and disappeared back into the kitchen. She heard the water and the rattle of the plates in the dishwasher. He returned a few minutes later with a fresh glass of iced tea for her and a new bottle of beer for himself.

  She accepted the glass and patted the seat beside her she’d made by swinging her good leg to the floor and settling her other on the coffee table. She was sated. The pill’s effects trickled through her system, relaxing her further.

  “So, you haven’t really told me what this new job is,” she said. “What it entails.”

  Sam leaned back against the couch cushion and took a long sip from his beer. “Well, right now, I have the week off to spend with you.” He hesitated. “I’m still getting up to speed. But it’s kind of like what I did in Denver—without the specific focus on sexual violence and homicide.”

  Cici tried to parse Sam’s comments out into normal-person speak. “You’re saying this has a broader mandate?”

  Sam nodded. “And more resources because it’s federal, not regional.” Cici must have still looked confused because Sam said, “We’re tasked with supporting other groups throughout the country at a local, regional, state, and national level. We bring in experts in various fields who can help nab the criminals.”

  Cici yawned. “That seems a bit ambiguous.”

  “Probably is on purpose. If the mission statement allows for more wiggle room, we can take it.”

  “So, lots of opportunities to play Superman and keep us safe.”

  He chuckled. “I’m not Superman.”

  “How do you know all this? I mean, you worked with Jeannette for, what, three days or something before you took time off to spend with me?”

  He hesitated. “I
t’s mostly time off. I’m getting daily briefings from my team lead.”

  She mentally crossed her fingers, hoping she was wrong. “Who’s that?”

  Again, Sam hesitated. “Jeannette.”

  Cici shrank into herself—not because she was surprised but because…well, she’d hoped Sam would be working with someone else. “Oh.” A pang trickled through her stomach, heavy and unwelcome. “So, what happens next?”

  Sam slit the beer label with his thumbnail. “I go on my next case.”

  Cici sucked her lower lip into her mouth, but the words tumbled out against her better judgment. “With Jeannette.”

  Her face flamed at the obviousness of her jealousy. She couldn’t help it—even though Jeannette had been kind to her, she didn’t want Sam working with her. Not daily.

  “Yes,” Sam said.

  She was tired of attempting, and probably failing, at hiding her feelings. Just…tired. Exhaustion coated her in a thick blanket. She struggled to keep her eyes open.

  “This is why I didn’t want to take a pill,” she mumbled. “I hate this sleepiness.”

  “You need to rest. To heal,” Sam said. Sam used his forefinger to raise her chin. He smiled down at her, brushing her hair off her face.

  She scowled harder but then blinked when her eyes slid shut. “I…I don’t want you to leave.”

  “Hey. Look. I might be working with Jeannette for this next case, but that doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”

  Cici’s brows scrunched together. No way she’d heard him correctly. “What?”

  “We can talk about this tomorrow,” Sam said, but he seemed sad.

  Cici didn’t like the droop in his shoulders. “Let’s talk now. I like talking to you,” she said. She picked up her tea to try and mask her yawn behind the glass.

  “I like talking to you, too, Cee. It’s the highlight of my day.”

  She took a sip of the cold beverage even as warmth speared her chest.

  “Are you being nice because I’m injured?” she mumbled.

  Sam shook his head, his smile rueful. “How are you feeling? Pill working?”

  “Well, my ankle feels better. My head is fuzzy.”

  He stared off to the side for a long moment. “Are you going to remember this conversation tomorrow?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can we talk about something that…” She caught her breath at the intensity of his gunmetal gaze. He grabbed her glass and set his beer on the coaster next to her tea.

  Sam leaned in closer still and caught her cheek and cupped it, his thumb running with gentle care over her cheekbone. Cici wanted to close her eyes and luxuriate in the caress, but something deep in Sam’s eyes teased her, drew her in.

  “I love you, Cecilia Maria Gurule.”

  Her mouth dropped open, almost unseating his hand.

  Sam’s lips quirked a little and a sparkle lit his irises, causing them to appear more blue than gray. “I have for years. And I’ve wanted to tell you for ages.”

  She struggled with words, her lips forming them but no sound passing along her vocal cords. “Wh-what?”

  “Middle school. Late April. You yelled at me for embarrassing Jane Kingston.”

  “You tried to look up her skirt,” Cici said.

  “That’s when I fell for you.”

  Her jaw felt as though it unhinged.

  “I thought you should know when it happened for me,” Sam said.

  “But…you…Aci…”

  Cici’s brain must have misfired. The medication made thinking difficult. She wanted this conversation to be different. She wanted to be well, whole, wearing something much better than soft gray sweatpants and matching tee.

  Maybe have on makeup and her hair done.

  No way she was sitting here, her lips so chapped they might never stop peeling, with Sam admitting he’d loved her for nearly twenty years.

  But she was, and he was looking at her like this moment was the most important moment of his life.

  “Nope. I’ve always only loved you, Cici.”

  Her fingers convulsed, gripping his shirt near the collar. Those words…she’d dreamed of him saying them to her. For years.

  Sam shifted, his eyes growing heavier with some emotion that looked…it looked like sadness. Or maybe acceptance. The muscle in his jaw ticked. The five o’clock shadow darkened his cheeks.

  “I promised myself as I drove to Chaco, hoping with everything in me that you were still alive, that I’d tell you. Then. As soon as I could.”

  Cici continued to gape. Sam loved her? Then, she wondered as she had before, many times, why had he spent so much time hanging out with her twin?

  “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he continued. She felt his muscles begin to tighten. He was going to stand. To leave her.

  “Sam.”

  His name came out a plaintive note, as she tightened her grip on his T-shirt. Her mouth dried out and her pulse beat in her throat hard enough to cause her to shiver.

  She whispered. “Holy shit.”

  Chapter 2

  Cici

  * * *

  She was ready to deny the existence of space and time rather than admit that love might not be eternal. ― Simone de Beauvoir

  * * *

  His lips quirked upward in the barest semblance of a smile, but his eyes shuttered, and she felt him pulling away. She wanted to touch all of him, starting with his messy dark hair. But she couldn’t manage to release her grip on his shirt.

  “I just needed you to know,” he said, his voice soft with regret, but his gaze steady. Sam was always so steady. “I needed to keep the promise because I made it to Anna Carmen.”

  “You told my sister you loved me?” Cici asked, her voice rising.

  Sam’s brows pinched over his nose. “Technically, she already knew. I mean, she’s known for years. That’s part of why she invited me over the first time… And she kind of…when we were up on Aspen Ridge Trail…”

  Cici grumbled about her twin sister, whom she called Aci, and her ability to keep secrets—so much better than Cici’s capabilities. Then, the rest of what Sam said hit her.

  “I knew you saw her there.” She shifted closer to him, then winced when her ankle, wrapped in its boot, slammed into the top of her coffee table nearly oversetting her glass of tea. “What did she say?”

  Sam took a long drink from his second beer. Faint lines appeared around his eyes, feathering out.

  “She said I needed to tell you.”

  Cici pulled him closer until they were nose to nose. She studied his eyes and realized he was upset. Not because he loved her. No. Well, crud. She hadn’t said it back. He must think she didn’t feel the same way.

  She pressed her weather-roughened lips to his, wincing a little at the contact. But the slight discomfort didn’t stop her. No. She’d kissed him once before—rather, he’d kissed her after pulling her to safety up on Aspen Vista.

  And she’d wanted to kiss him again, many times, since that fateful day when Cici discovered her sister’s killer—and nearly fell off the side of the mountain.

  He let her brush her lips over his. He let her pull back. Sam was like that—allowing her to take the lead when she needed to.

  “Sam, oh God. Sam.” Her chest heaved. “I love you, too.”

  He smiled. Then, he used his free hand to pry her fingers from his shirt and dislodge her fist from the base of his neck.

  “That makes me really, really happy,” he said.

  “I’m sorry I nearly choked you.”

  He chuckled as he shook his head. “Your excitement—and your swear words—have been duly noted.” He leaned in closer. “I’m going to kiss you again.”

  “Okay.”

  He did. She kissed him back. He eased from her mouth, his hand still tangled in her hair. She blinked at him, trying to keep her eyes open. Damn pill.

  He chuckled as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “We’ll pick this up in the morning when you’re
more awake.”

  Her eyelids slid closed against all her efforts to keep them open. But there was one more thing she needed to say.

  “I’m so happy,” she mumbled.

  “I am, too.”

  “Stay with me. Please. I don’t…” The yawn nearly split her jaw. It definitely split her lip.

  “Always, Cee,” he said, his voice soft, lulling her further into somnolence. “I’ll always be there for you.”

  Cici fell asleep on the couch, her head resting on Sam’s chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart, and she felt safe, cherished. She melted into the moment with a deep sigh of contentment.

  It didn’t last.

  Click Here To Continue Reading A Revelation of Death Now!