Beads of sweat popped out on OC’s nose and forehead. “I’ve got nothin’,” he said. “I don’t know nothin’. Nobody does.”
“Nobody?”
OC looked her in the eye. “Nobody. Zika’s operation is tight. He don’t let just anybody in, and he don’t let nobody out easy, either. But anything could have happened to Red. He’s a damn junkie.”
“Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?” Ryan’s mouth thinned. “Come on, OC. We know you’re dealing for Zika. We know Red’s been on the string, too. Now Red’s missing, and word is that Zika had you take care of him. If that’s not what happened, then tell us so we can put Zika away.”
OC lifted his chin defiantly. “I don’t even know Raoul Zika.”
“Sure you do,” Ryan said, “Think again. See if you can remember.”
What little light there’d been in OC’s eyes dimmed. “I know who he is. Everybody does. But I don’t know him, I don’t deal for him and I didn’t take care of Big Red.”
“I’ll bet you know something about his operation, though, don’t you?” Jolene pressed. “Why don’t you just tell us what you know?”
OC backed a step or two away, his voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “I don’t know nothin’. I don’t even like saying the man’s name aloud.”
“Why are you afraid of him?” Jolene asked. “Because you know what happened to Red?”
OC’s expression grew blank. “I don’t know. I don’t have nothin’ to say to you. Nothin’. You got that?” He backed farther away, stumbling over his own two feet. “The two of you coming around here and talking like that is going to get me dead.”
He was so obviously panicked, Ryan held up both hands in a sign of surrender. With the pressure off, OC lurched into the shadows and disappeared.
“He knows something,” Ryan muttered under his breath.
Jolene nodded, but she didn’t speak until they were outside again. No telling who might be listening, and they’d already put OC in enough danger. “OC’s always afraid of his own shadow,” she said as they plunged through the rain toward the car, “but I’d say Zika’s been making his presence felt.”
“That’s how I read it,” Ryan agreed. “I don’t like the feel of this. I don’t think we’re going to see Big Red alive.”
Jolene would have given anything to argue with him, but she was afraid he was right.
They reached the Crown Vic, and Ryan stopped with one hand on the driver’s door. “Ready for that coffee?”
For the first time in days, her family situation almost felt like a respite. She forced a smile and nodded. “Sure. Unless you’d rather head back to the station and see what the captain says.”
“Nice try, Preston, but you’re not getting out of this one. There’s nothing we can do for Red except keep looking, and nothing we can do for OC if he won’t ask for help. Now, get in the car. I’m all ready for a story.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HALF AN HOUR LATER, Jolene gratefully clutched her cup of coffee in both hands and let the warmth seep into her bones. They’d settled into their usual booth at The Blue Plate, a popular diner not far from the GemCrest warehouse. They sat near the front of the diner, in a booth that gave them a clear view out the window—just in case.
Ryan poured ketchup onto his plate and sopped a couple of fries in it. “You sure you don’t want half?” he asked, nodding toward the chicken avocado sandwich he’d ordered.
Jolene shook her head and dipped the tines of her fork into her salad dressing. She could already feel the waistband of her favorite pants cinched too tight around her waist. She couldn’t afford to keep giving in to temptation. Why couldn’t she have been one of those women whose dainty appetite disappeared under stress?
“I’m fine,” she said when she realized Ryan was still waiting for an answer. “This salad is all I want.”
“Now I know something’s wrong.” He stuffed another couple of fries into his mouth and spoke around them. “So what is it?”
Jolene vowed she wasn’t going to let this make her emotional. Doing her best to look as if it was no big deal, she said, “I found out the other day that my mother was married before she met my dad.”
Ryan’s eyes flashed to her face. “You didn’t know?”
“I didn’t know.”
“Wow. So how’d you find out?”
“One of those weird coincidences.” Someone fed quarters into the jukebox and an Alan Jackson song filled the air. “I happened across a photo of my mom standing next to this guy outside some building about thirty years ago. It was in a newspaper article, and the caption said this Margaret person was married to this guy. It never occurred to me that it might actually be her. I just thought it was a weird coincidence that someone else named Margaret could look so much like my mother.”
“You’re sure it wasn’t?”
Jolene took a bite of salad and made a face. What she really wanted was a chocolate-banana shake. And onion rings. Large. “No, it wasn’t. I mentioned it to her last time I was over there, one thing led to another, and she told me the truth.”
Ryan stopped chewing. “So she was married before and she never told you. That’s why you’re all wigged out?”
Did she have to tell him the rest? Or would this much be enough? Jolene stared at the lettuce speared onto her fork, then slowly set it aside. “I also found out that my mom had a kid with her first husband.”
Ryan blinked. “No kidding! Boy or girl?”
“Girl.”
“So you have a long-lost sister out there somewhere?”
“Not exactly.”
“The baby died or something?”
“No, she lived. According to my mother, that baby is me.”
Ryan swallowed wrong, coughed a couple of times and had to chug half a glass of water before he could speak again. “You?” he got out at last. “You’re kidding, right?”
Jolene wasn’t sure whether his reaction made her feel better or worse. “No,” she said, “but I wish I was.”
“And she never told you?”
“She didn’t seem to think that was necessary.”
He sat back in his seat, wagged his head in disbelief and let out a low whistle. “That’s heavy. No wonder you’ve been acting so strange lately.”
Jolene actually managed a weak smile. “Thanks.”
“So what does your mother have to say about all of this?”
“Not much. She was angry with me for asking questions, and then she got all weepy.”
“What has she told you about your biological father?”
“He died in Vietnam before I was born.”
“What about his family?”
Jolene felt herself shutting down inside, as she did every time she thought about Billy Starr’s people. “What about them?”
“Who are they?”
“I have no idea.”
“You haven’t asked?” Ryan stared at her as if she’d just sprouted wings but refused to fly. “You could have uncles and aunts and cousins and God only knows what else out there you don’t know anything about.”
And he thought that was a good thing? Jolene caught herself eyeing his fries and considered ordering some for herself. “I might, but it’s weird to be related to people I don’t even know. It’s not something I want to think about yet.”
Ryan must have noticed the direction of her gaze because he scooped a mound of fries onto her plate. “You’re going to have to, Jo.”
It had been days since he’d used her nickname. “I’ll find them—eventually.”
“Eventually? What are you talking about? I know you. Unanswered questions bug the hell out of you. You aren’t going to be happy until you know exactly what your situation is and, in the meantime, you’ll drive both of us crazy and probably piss the captain off in your spare time.”
Jolene debated telling Ryan about Eisley’s threat, but decided to keep that particular humiliation private for the time being. Under normal circumstances wh
at Ryan said about her curious nature was true, but this time the unanswered questions had the power to change her life, and that made everything different. “I won’t bring it to work with me,” she promised. “It won’t affect you at all.”
One eyebrow arched with skepticism. “The way it hasn’t the past few days?”
“Cut me some slack, Ryan. I just found out about this. I’ll get it under control, I promise.”
“You can’t promise that. Not until you know exactly what you’re dealing with. Talk to your mother.”
“Easy for you to say. It’s not your life falling apart or your mother who spent the past thirty years lying.”
His understanding changed to exasperation in the blink of an eye. “Explain how you’re going to get this ‘thing’ under control. Are you expecting to just wake up one morning and magically feel better?”
“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll figure something out, though.”
“What about your dad? Can you talk to him?”
“He knew about this all along. He lied, too.”
Ryan frowned in thought. “Maybe you should talk to Richard Wong.”
“The department shrink? Are you serious?” That would only make the rest of the unit think she was unstable, and give Captain Eisley fodder he didn’t need. “No thanks.”
“You have a better suggestion?”
One idea did occur to her, but it was so preposterous, she ignored it. Mason Blackfox was not the solution to this problem. “I just need time,” she said again. “That’s all. Let me come to terms with this in my own way.”
“Not while I’m your partner.” Ryan rested his arms on the table and stared at her. “Sorry, but with Zika stirred up again and Big Red missing, that’s a luxury neither of us can afford.”
“Nobody wants to put Zika away more than I do. Trust me.”
“I wish I could,” Ryan said, his voice low, “but I need more than that.”
The hair on the back of Jolene’s neck stood up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means either you get your head straight and do it fast, or I’m going to talk to Eisley about assigning me a new partner.”
Jolene felt the blood drain from her face. If Ryan went to Eisley, that would just about guarantee that she’d be transferred out of the squad. “You’re giving me an ultimatum?”
“I’m looking out for myself. You’re a good partner, Jolene, but I’m not putting myself at risk if I don’t have to. I’ve got a wife and kids to think about. You shouldn’t be out there while you’re dealing with this.”
The anger she’d been trying to keep under control since that day in her mother’s study erupted. How dare he threaten her? How dare he try to take away the only thing she had left? “I’m sorry my personal crisis is inconvenient for you. Next time somebody wants to detonate a bomb in the middle of my life, I’ll have them check with you first.”
“Yeah, that’s it, Jo. Be sarcastic. That’ll make everything better.”
Well, something had to. Nothing else was working.
Ryan linked his hands together on the paper place mat. “Get mad at me if you want to, but you know I’m right. A cop with unresolved personal issues is dangerous. You’ve seen it before. Do whatever you have to so things can get back to normal. But do it fast because I’m not going to wait forever.”
She clamped her mouth shut.
Sinking back in the chair, she turned her cup in a listless circle on the table. “I’ll fix it.”
“When?”
“Soon. Now.” She lifted her gaze. “Right away.” God only knew how she’d do it, but she couldn’t lose her career. She’d already lost her family. The department was all she had left.
It was only later, as Jolene trailed Ryan back to the car, that she realized she’d left out one important piece of information. She hadn’t told him she was part Cherokee, and couldn’t honestly say whether it had been by accident or design.
WHILE HIS SUNDAY MORNING coffee brewed, Mason attacked the kitchen floor with a broom. Warm spring sunlight streamed in through the open blinds, and the unopened Sunday edition of Tulsa World waited for him on the table.
It had been almost a week since Alexandra’s phone call, and he still hadn’t found the right way to tell Debra that her mother planned to leave her here longer than either of them had first thought. He wasn’t even sure why he kept putting it off. He only knew that every time he tried to tell her, something kept his mouth shut. That had to change.
Alex would be calling later, and she would assume Mason had told Debra. If he had any hope of saving his relationship with the girl, he had to be honest with her. Letting her find out because Alex inadvertently let the news slip wasn’t going to win any points with his daughter.
It would be so much easier to talk with her if they could just stop butting heads. It seemed that the more he tried to interact with her, the more petulant and surly she became. Take last night, for example. He hadn’t bothered to rush home last night because he knew Debra would be at diving practice until six o’clock. By six-thirty he was in the kitchen and starting dinner, but that wasn’t good enough for Debra. Without once giving him a clue about what he was doing wrong, she’d sat at the table for at least thirty minutes, sullenly watching him from the corner of her eye, her chin propped in one hand.
All those dreams he’d once had about fatherhood sure didn’t match the reality. The whole time Debra had been living with her mother, Mason had carried around images of what life would be like if only they could spend more time together. He’d conjured up walks through the park, visits to the zoo, movies, dinners and piggyback rides. A far cry from how they’d been living since the end of February.
Where were those dads whose daughters adored them? The daughters who thought their daddies could do no wrong? Or were they just another fairy tale?
As if he’d conjured her up, Debra shuffled into the kitchen, hair tousled, face still puffy from sleep. She went straight to the fridge, pulled out the milk and poured herself a tall glass.
Hardly the action of a kid on drugs—was it? He’d checked her eyes a hundred times in the past week, and every time they looked clear and bright, but would he ever really know for sure?
He dumped the dirt he’d swept up into the trash, then put the broom away. “Morning, kid. You’re up early, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. So? I have to get started on my history report.”
She was going to do homework willingly? He couldn’t ask for more than that. “I was just thinking about making chocolate chip pancakes. Sound good to you?”
Debra shrugged and dropped onto one of the chairs by the table. “I guess.”
“What kind of fruit do you want with that?”
“I don’t want fruit.”
“You need to eat balanced meals, Debra, especially when you’re in training. Coach wants you in good condition for the meet next week, and he’s going to be doing trials tomorrow.”
She kicked her feet onto a chair and slurped up a mouthful of milk. “I’m not going to practice tomorrow.”
Mason should have known her attitude was too good to be true. He poured himself a coffee and carried it to the table. “You’ve already skipped too many practices,” he said. “Do you have any idea how close you are to being kicked off the team?”
“So? I don’t feel like going.”
“Well, you can’t just go through life doing only what you feel like doing. It doesn’t work that way.”
With an expressive roll of the eyes, Debra got up from the table and dug around in the cupboard for the chocolate powder. “I don’t care about this team, so why should I care if I’m kicked off. It was your idea for me to be on it, not mine.”
Mason sat across from the place she’d vacated. She wouldn’t even let him do that. “I talked to Coach Walkenhorst about putting you on the team because your mother told me you loved diving at your other school.”
“I did. This is different.”
“So y
ou want to quit because this coach does things a little differently from your last one? Or is it because you don’t know the kids? There’s only one way to change that.”
She found the boxed powder and pulled it out of the cupboard. “I don’t like the kids, I don’t like the school, I don’t like the coach and I don’t like it here.” She gestured broadly with one hand, hit her glass and sent it crashing to the floor. It shattered and milk splashed everywhere. She stared, but made no move to clean it up. “I want to go back home.”
“This is home,” Mason said, trying not to let her see how much that hurt. If she knew how steep her advantage was over him, he’d never be able to reach her. “It’s home for a while longer, anyway, so it’s time you started acting like it. You can begin by cleaning up the mess you just made.”
Debra glared at him. “Why?”
“Why do you have to clean up the mess?”
“No, why does this have to be home? It’s not like you want me here, and Mom said I wouldn’t have to stay if I didn’t like it.”
“Hold on a second, Debra. What makes you think I don’t want you here?”
“You don’t.”
“Of course I do.”
“I’m only here because she made you take me.”
“That’s not true. Your mother called me, but she didn’t make me do anything. I wanted you to come and stay with me, I just didn’t think you’d want to.”
“Well, you were right.”
Her words stung, but the look on her face brought back memories from his own childhood and saddened him. “Listen, Deb, I know I haven’t always been the best dad around. I even understand why you feel the way you do. But I do love you. I just wish I could find some way to make you believe that.”
“You could help me with my report.”
Mason started to agree, realized she was talking about that report and froze. “The one about your grandparents?”
“How do you know about it?”
“Your mother told me, but there’s no way you can interview either of my parents, Debra. My mother’s been dead for more than twenty-five years.”
Sherry Lewis - Count on a Cop Page 10
