by Kim Pritekel
“Yeah.” Catania gave her a rueful chuckle. “I accidentally stapled two of my fingers and, in the process of trying to get them free, I lost my footing on the ladder.”
“Oh geez, Nia.” Ally took her wrapped fingers into both her hands and held them almost as though to keep them safe. “I’m so sorry.”
“Eh, it’s okay,” Catania said with a shrug. “Got me out of doing Jason’s workshop.” The two shared a smile. “So, that’s why I’m so late. Karen dragged me to the emergency clinic. Do we still have time to work on some moves?”
“No, Nia. No, you’re injured,” Ally said, shaking her head even as she held Nia’s hand closer to her chest. “We can do it another time.” She grinned. “Besides, my Uber driver will be here in about ten minutes.”
“Right, your lunch with Linda.” Catania shook her head with a small rueful smile. She tried to ignore the heat spreading through her body at the soft warmth engulfing her hand. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know I was going to get hurt. But hey, we’ve still got a few minutes. I can teach you a couple things. But,” she said, raising a finger of the hand on her hurt arm, the motion hurting her badly sprained wrist. “I do have something for you.”
“You do?” Ally asked, eyes wide with excitement.
Catania reached into the pocket of her winter coat and withdrew the small, carved cat. She smiled at Ally’s gasp. “Now, I figure this little guy doesn’t need to be fed, no litter box to clean, yet he’s still adorable.”
Ally took the wood piece in her hands, turning it this way and that like Catania had earlier in the day, lightly running her fingernails over the finely carved fur and details. “This is beautiful, Nia. Where did you get it?”
“Well, Karen gave it to me, but my brother Jason carved it.”
“Wow.” Ally’s look of awe as she met Catania’s was filled with adoration. “Thank you.” She left a quick peck on Catania’s cheek before she moved away and set the gift down on the island. “Okay. Teach me.”
“Okay,” Catania said, grateful for the distance between them. “Very simple things to know are the obvious—crotch shot with the knee or foot if you can. But, also right here,” she said, indicating the hollow of her throat. “If you do this,” she explained, reaching out with her one good hand and manipulating Ally’s fingers so she had a fist with her first finger bent so the knuckle protruded. She brought it to her own throat. “Okay, here,” she said, lightly pressing the knuckle into the tender flesh. “It hurts like a son-of-a-bitch if you really jab it. It’ll choke, or at least hurt enough to startle the guy.”
“Okay,” Ally said, all seriousness as she pressed in a bit a few times, almost as though to get muscle memory of exactly where to push. “I can do that.”
“Okay. Another area that’s easy to get to is the top of the foot.” Catania lightly tapped Ally’s with the heel of her boot. “These are the tarsal bones of the foot, and again, it hurts like hell when they are struck, and they can be crushed with enough force.” She grinned. “Definitely a showstopper. Okay, put your hands on my arms, like you’re grabbing me.”
When Ally did as she was told, Catania used quick movement of a hard chop downward at the bend of Ally’s arms, which instantly dropped to her sides with a small cry from Ally.
“Ow! What did you do?” she asked, bringing a hand up to rub her right arm.
“Sorry. It’s a move to hit the pressure point right there,” Catania explained, gently rubbing her thumb over the area. “Yes, it briefly smarts, but it’s more a shock to the nerve that deadens the arm. This could potentially allow you to get away. But this,” she said, reaching out to place her hand on Ally’s shoulder, urging her to turn her back to her. “This could save your life.”
Ally’s back to her, she wrapped her one working arm across Ally’s upper chest, easing her back against her front. With their bodies pressed together, Catania took a deep, quiet breath, trying to focus on what she intended to show the woman she held.
“Okay,” she said, getting her mind where it needed to be. “It’s very likely if someone is going to attack you, they’ll grab you from behind like this. I only have one arm right now, but I’m going to hold on as hard as I can, okay?”
Ally nodded. “Okay. What do you want me to do?”
“Let go.”
“What?” Ally asked, trying to turn around, but Catania held her tightly against her.
“Fall.”
Catania grunted as suddenly her entire upper body was forced downward as Ally let her legs go limp. The blond woman slipped out of her grip and rolled away from her, staring up at her from the floor with wide, surprised eyes.
“Whoa.”
Catania grinned even as her back and arm screamed obscenities at her. “Nicely done. See, if an attacker had a gun or a knife or some other weapon, they’d be in a pickle because they’re trying to hold on to you but also their weapon. Dead weight would be impossible to control.”
“Wow,” Ally said, getting to her feet. “I can’t believe how effective that is.” She walked over to Catania, her phone beginning to thunder as she reached her. Removing her cell from the back pocket of her jeans, she glanced at the screen. “My ride is here.” Pocketing her phone again, she smiled at Catania. “Thank you. It makes me feel better to have at least some rudimentary knowledge of how to help myself if I need it.”
“When we have more time, I’ll teach you more if you want.”
Ally nodded. “I want.” She brought her hands up to Catania’s shoulders, glancing down at the arm in the sling before carefully pulling her into a hug. “Thank you for everything,” she murmured.
Catania used her good arm to hold Ally to her once more, this time in a warm embrace. Her eyes slid closed as she felt the softness of Ally’s breasts against her own, their bodies moving flush. She could smell the scent of Ally’s shampoo as well as that ever-enticing perfume. She felt gentle hands move from her shoulders to her back.
Ally’s head left Catania’s shoulder where it had rested, her breath warm on an exposed neck. She felt her heart begin to race and her own breathing hitch. As though through some sort of magnetic force, Ally’s lips moved to Catania’s, their softness more than she could have ever dreamed. She felt the tiniest movement of those lips against her own and responded. She heard a small sigh escape Ally’s lips as a hand glided from Catania’s back toward the side of her neck.
Dark eyes widen, surprise…
Catania was startled, her hand tightening a bit on Ally’s waist. She relaxed as she felt fingers lightly stroke her jaw.
The grip tightened…
She curled her fingers around a grip of cotton, pushing against the warmth of Ally’s side even as she pulled on her shirt.
No breath, no breath. Can’t breathe, can’t breathe…
Catania moaned as she pushed fully against Ally, tearing her mouth away from Ally’s, gasping for breath.
The shine gone in her eyes, mahogany skin dull, a yellowish fluid puddled at the corner of slightly spread lips. Suddenly, the eyes focused, lifeless yet direct.
“You did this,” she whispered. “You did this!”
Catania yelled out, staggering backward as she pushed Ally away from her. She didn’t even feel the pain in her wrist or fingertips as she fell to one knee, quickly scurrying away from the woman standing before her.
Ally gasped, managing to keep to her feet as she was forced a step or two backward. Her hand came up to her chest, tears welling in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, turning and fleeing from the room, pounding down the stairs and out the front door.
Chapter Thirteen
Catania sat quietly on the floor against a wall as Matteo played his video game, undaunted by her presence. She rested her head back against the cool plaster as her fingers absently traced the details on the carved wooden cat that had been left behind in Ally’s haste to leave.
Ally.
The truth was, she wasn’t sure what she was more unsettled and upset
about: what had happened with Ally and her understandable reaction to the events, or what Catania had experienced during it. The sight of the woman’s face, the personal feelings—both physical and emotional—as that woman was being harmed.
She knew she needed to find Ally, but she felt there was little point. She had no way of explaining what had happened during their kiss, as the truth was she had no idea herself. What she did know was that there was some meaning behind it. It wasn’t random, it wasn’t her mind wandering, nor a flashback from a previous case. This was different and deeply disturbing.
“I’m assuming you won’t be joining us for dinner?”
Catania was pulled out of her deep and troubling thoughts by her brother’s voice. “What?” She was startled to see him standing over her, looking down at her.
“Dinner. Food. Sustenance. You rarely eat when you’re upset by something. We eat in less than seventeen minutes.”
“Oh.” Catania cradled the cat in her hand as she pushed to her feet. “Sorry, I’ll get out of your way so you can get your dinner.” She gave him a smile of gratitude. “Thanks for letting me hang out, Matty.”
He studied her for a long moment, the usually cool, reserved dark eyes filled with brief understanding. “I don’t know what’s wrong, Nia, but I know you’ll fix it. You always do.”
Touched, she took her brother in a tight hug. He responded in the way he always did with her, not exactly with his arms, but more of his body leaning into hers. “I love you, bud,” she murmured before releasing him and walking over to the door where she’d left her jacket. She flipped it over her arm as she looked down at the carved animal in her hand. “Matty,” she said, holding it out toward him. He walked over to her and took it, looking down at it before meeting her gaze with confusion. “Give this to Ally tonight at dinner, okay?”
He nodded. “Okay.”
She turned to leave when she noticed something. “Matteo,” she said, her finger touching the hook she’d told him to always hang his key on. “Where’s your key?”
He looked at it, confusion on his face. He looked like a lost little boy who had been caught doing something wrong.
“Did you misplace it?” she asked gently, yet firm enough so he knew she was serious.
“No. I put it there, where you told me to.”
She could tell he was telling her the truth, yet things happened. She scanned the apartment visually from where she stood.
“There it is!” Matteo rushed the few steps over to the couch and pulled out the carabiner his house key was attached to. Looking utterly relieved, he laid it in her palm like a precious artifact.
“Good job.” She hung it where it belonged.
She left his apartment, closing the door behind her. In the hall she shook her jacket open before she shrugged into it as she headed down the hall toward the stairs. The farther down she went, the more she could smell dinner. Fried chicken.
Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, she glanced down the long hallway that led back to the kitchen. She knew Ally was there, back from her afternoon with Linda. She’d returned after their shared moment in Catania’s apartment, that look of deep hurt on her face that Catania would never forget.
As Catania stood there watching, Ally suddenly appeared, a huge basket of biscuits in her hands as she scurried to the dining room just off the kitchen. Ally didn’t acknowledge her, so she assumed she’d gone unnoticed, but seeing Ally was too much. Catania quickly hurried the few scant steps to the front door.
Catania made it to her Jeep when her phone rang, the ringtone for work. She hit the answer button and put the device to her ear. “Detective d’Giovanni,” she said as she inserted the key into the door lock. “Okay, I’ll be at the station in three minutes.”
Oscar met her at their car as she pulled the Jeep into the lot. She quickly hopped from one vehicle to the other, and Oscar got them on the road. She belted herself in and pulled the spare notebook she kept in the glove box for times like this when she didn’t have time to head home and get it.
Oscar’s questioning glance to her injured hand was met by a glare from her. He quickly returned his focus to the road.
“What we got?” she asked, clicking the pen she fished from her pocket into action.
“Suicide. City Park.”
She grimaced as she jotted that down. “The public ones are just not cool.”
Within minutes the sedan drove the winding path or roadways through the park that was placed in the middle of the town, peppered with grassy areas, tennis courts, and a man-made lake where geese hung out and wouldn’t think twice about chasing an inattentive patron.
Oscar pulled to a stop next to one of the two squad cars that were parked there. There was a silver pickup truck parked at the site, a uniformed officer going through it. Catania assumed it must belong to their deceased. The responding officers had set up lights to reveal the scene as the sun had already begun to set.
“Hey, Robert, what we got?” Oscar asked the technician from the coroner’s office.
“Looks like self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head,” the middle-aged man said from where he knelt next to the body that rested about fifteen yards off the paved path of the park, a large tree nearby.
The apparent suicide victim was male, looked to be in his thirties, though the distortion in his features from the severe wound made that a bit tough for Catania to determine for sure. He wore blue jeans, slightly faded and worn, though specks of blood spattered the right thigh. His unzipped black leather jacket revealed a Denver Broncos T-shirt beneath. The small patch of snow beneath him had turned crimson.
“That’s a Colt 38 Super,” Oscar said, nudging the ground near where the pistol lay near the man’s relaxed right hand.
Catania squatted on the opposite side of the tech and did a full visual scan of his head, face, and the wound. It was the side of his head with less damage, as it was the entry side. It took a moment, but when she took in his features, she gasped. “Oh my god.”
“What?” Oscar turned away from debriefing one of the uniformed officers that had walked over to him. “Know him?”
“Yeah,” she said absently, eyebrows drawing as she examined him closer. “Do we have any identification on him?” she called out to whomever may have the answer.
“Yes, ma’am,” the officer who had been talking to Oscar said.
“Kevin Tanner, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the officer said, consulting the wallet he held in gloved hands.
“Why do I feel I should know that name?” Oscar asked, taking a slight sidestep to get a better look at the man’s face.
Catania got to her feet and walked around the body to join her partner. “Officer, excuse us, please,” she said to the uniform, who moved away with a nod. “This is the guy who was the father of Anastasia Luhan’s unborn baby.”
“Oh, shit.” He met her gaze. “This changes things a bit, doesn’t it?”
Catania said nothing, though she noticed CSU arriving as she studied the positioning of the body. “He was standing when he was shot,” she noted, nodding toward his legs slightly spread at the thighs, but the lower legs together and crossed at the ankles.
“Dead man’s fall,” Oscar said, naming the common phenomenon of humans who are killed or die while standing.
“Not saying there’s anything wrong with that,” she said, eyeing his hands. She considered the very public place where his body lay. “I wonder why he didn’t stay in the truck,” she murmured. Looking over at her partner, she asked, “Wouldn’t you? I mean, in a public park, the zoo isn’t too far away. If you shot yourself, wouldn’t you be worried a child could find your body out like this?”
“Yeah, but consider what this dude just went through,” Oscar added. “From what you said, he was pretty shaken up by Anastasia’s murder and that entire mess.”
“He was,” she agreed. “Get his hands bagged, and I want toxicology on both his blood and hair follicles, okay?” Catania said to th
e CSU technician who walked up to the body. Moving out of the way, she joined Oscar and together the two walked over to the truck.
“Detective!”
Both Oscar and Catania looked up at the officer who had been going through the silver pickup. He waved them over.
The bench seat of the medium-sized pickup was littered with candy wrappers, and what looked to be junk mail flyers for car insurance and home internet service. But, what had caught the officer’s attention was what he held in the palm of his latex-clad hand.
Oscar’s eyes grew wide as he looked from the small, white object to Catania, who was pulling on gloves before she took it to examine for herself. Though smudged with what looked to be dried blood or dirt, her name and phone number were still visible, as was the bold 18.
“One of your matchbooks,” Oscar said, eyeing her.
She nodded. “Indeed.”
“Do you know who you gave that one to?”
“I think so,” she said softly, filing away the number mentally to check later.
She handed the matchbook back to the officer, who slipped it into an evidence bag. She felt a twist in her stomach, both because she knew she was about to hear it—again—from Price, but also because she was concerned about the fate of the young woman who had received that matchbook from her.
“Nia,” Oscar said, his voice low and troubled. It knocked her out of her reverie.
“What?”
“Look under that Sonic bag.”
Catania did as she was told and, though initially confused, when she saw the light green bottle, her breath caught. Careful not to smack her hurt wrist on the frame of the truck, she reached inside to the area on the floor of the passenger side of the truck. Pushing the fast-food bag aside, she grabbed the bottle and withdrew it, both she and Oscar deadly silent as the label was revealed.
“I cannot believe that,” Oscar said, shaking his head even as his eyes never left the empty beer bottle she held. “I know it’s not exactly as common as Coors or something, but there’s no way that can be the missing sixth.”
