Diamond White: A Red Riley Adventure #2 (Red Riley Adventures)

by Stephanie Andrews

  She snaked her right leg up to my elbow, holding my left arm to my side while her right hand slipped between us, pushing its way until it gripped the pouch that was hidden in my bra. She tried to pull it out, but realized it was inside my shirt.

  “Get. Off.” I spat as she ripped my shirt at the collar, reaching her hand down in until she could grab the drawstring and pull the pouch free.

  “Eureka,” she said, which I’m pretty sure isn’t Spanish. “Not a wire. Diamonds. I guess you were right, Riley You really aren’t my friend.” She leapt to her feet in one smooth motion. I sat up slowly, non-threateningly. “This little trick of yours would have been my death sentence with Negron. If I hadn’t felt that bump, I wouldn’t even have considered you would double cross me. I guess I think too highly of you. Well, I won’t make that mistake again.”

  “If Negron is so evil,” I said, “don’t give it back to him. Hide. Let me help you!”

  With a sad look on her face, she reached back and pulled out the black pouch, tossing it into my lap. She tucked the blue pouch back where the blue one had been.

  “It doesn’t work that way,” she said, stepping off the grass and back onto the path. “Adios, chica.”

  And she was gone.

  Moments later Park was pulling me to my feet.

  “Now you show up,” I said with exasperation.

  “You said observe, not interact!” She looked at me shrewdly. “Were you two making out on the ground behind the bench?”

  “Hardly,” I said wryly.

  “Because that’s what it looked like. Just sayin’.”

  I brushed myself off, watching Selena’s tiny figure jogging off in the far distance.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Park, noticing my long face. “Didn’t your plan work?”

  “It did,” I said, picking up the blanket and tossing it in the stroller. “And now I feel kind of bad about it.” I looked down at the pouch in my hand, gave it a squeeze, and put it in the pocket of my cardigan. They were the real diamonds. Selena had the fake ones.

  Had I really just signed her death warrant?

  Twenty

  “I’m sorry, Kay,” said Uncle Elgort, seated uncomfortably in the easy chair. “I didn’t realize how bad things had gotten.”

  We were sitting in my mom’s room at Honeywell. She was sitting on the side of her bed, staring out the window. Nick stood by the bookshelf, perusing the titles. I sat next to Mom on the bed, brushing her long auburn hair. She paid no attention to any of us.

  “The Christmas cards coming every year,” Elgort went on. “I assumed she was more cognizant.”

  “She had help sending them,” I said, glumly. The good news, of course, was that Mom hadn’t been distraught by the announcement of my death on the evening news. The bad news, of course, was that she hadn’t much noticed when I came by to tell her I was still alive.

  Nick pulled out a copy of Blood Meridian and was examining it carefully.

  “I suppose it’s for the best,” I sighed. “There’s no one now. Apart from Marty and Ruby, and they are well aware of the risks.”

  Nick looked up from the book. Raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Well, yes. The Shelbys. But I’m pretty sure you lot can look after yourselves. Mom would have been happy, I think, to know that we’ve reconnected. She was always more copacetic about it than Dad.”

  “Your father was a police officer, Kay. And we were criminals. You couldn’t expect him to be pleased with his brother’s choice of profession.”

  I turned and looked at Uncle Elgort.

  “Were criminals?”

  “Well,” he coughed. “I suppose yes, we are still criminals in a way.”

  “In many, many ways,” said Nick.

  “True. But no more of the violence. No more bending others to our will. Now we just look for the mistakes of others, and exploit them for our benefit.”

  “And,” I chimed in, “your targets are certainly not innocent.”

  “For the most part,” said Nick, with a dour expression.

  “Well, certainly Dexter,” I argued.

  “Without a doubt, Dexter,” said Elgort.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get any more information on Negron,” I sighed.

  “Not yet, my dear. Not yet. There will be other chances.”

  “And Dexter?” I asked.

  “He seems very interested in our little proposition, the recycling of the guns. He told Hansen that he needed to talk with his people.”

  “Negron?”

  “I assume so, but perhaps the mayor himself. Who knows where this will lead. We shall see. In the meantime, your job is to find Selena Salerno without her finding you, and continue to push for information about Antonio Negron.”

  “Simple,” I said lightly, standing up and clapping my hands. Mom flinched, and I hurried to rub my hand on her shoulder, put her at ease. “I’ve always wanted to go to Mexico.”

  Nick turned around sharply, wanting to interrupt, but not wanting to tell me what to do. Elgort showed no such restraint.

  “Under no circumstances are you to go anywhere near Negron, Kay. Do you understand?”

  I didn’t like to be given orders, but I also remembered the look of fear on Selena’s face when she spoke of Negron. She was the biggest bad-ass I’d ever met, and she was terrified.

  “I understand,” I said, taking Uncle Elgort’s hand and helping him out of the chair.

  “This book is worth some good money,” said Nick, holding up the copy of Blood Meridian.

  “I’ll keep that in mind after I’ve spent all the diamonds,” I replied.

  He grimaced at me and put the book back on the shelf.

  “Kidding!” I said, and held my hands out to each side, palms up in supplication.

  Unexpectedly, Mom reached out and grabbed my left hand in both of hers. She pulled it close to her face, and ran her index finger along the hard, pink scar tissue.

  “Missing,” she said quietly.

  “I know, Mom.”

  “Ouchie,” she said.

  “No kidding, Mom. No kidding.”

  Twenty-one

  Later, just after 1 a.m., something went bump in the night. Nick woke with a start, rolled over and fell out of bed. Since my bed is currently just a mattress on the floor, it wasn’t much of a drop, and didn’t make much noise.

  In the dim light, he fumbled for his clothes on the floor, listening intently. Another slight noise, coming from the living room. He pulled on a t-shirt that was lying on the floor, and was pulling on a pair of pants when the door of the bedroom opened, a flashlight beam catching him in the face, then panning down to where he was fumbling with his pants.

  “Don’t you wear underwear?” asked a skeptical woman’s voice. Two shadowy figures had entered the room.

  “Can’t find them,” said Nick, remaining unflappable as always, “in this glare. Could you please?”

  “No, we don’t please,” said a man’s voice, and the flashlight moved closer to Nick, who took a step back until he was against the wall.

  “Kay?” said Nick tentatively.

  “No, it’s not okay,” said the man, his voice was young and angry, perhaps a bit intoxicated. “It’s not okay at all. There’s something here we need, and we’re going to take it. You stay out of our way, you don’t get hurt. Okay?”

  “It’s not me I’m worried is going to get hurt,” said Nick, with bravado.

  The intruder laughed. Probably sneered, too, but it was dark.

  “Did you here that, lover? He’s going to hurt me!!”

  There was silence.

  “Sherry?”

  He turned and swept the room with the flashlight, but Sherry was nowhere to be seen. The room was empty.

  Out in the living room, Sherry couldn’t speak because my right hand was covering her mouth while my left was squeezing her throat tightly. I had yanked her soundlessly out of the bedroom doorway and now had her pushed up against the adjoining wall. She tried to
stomp on my foot, but I evaded her shoe and squeezed harder on her windpipe until she stopped.

  Light spilled from the doorway as the flashlight swept past, then returned as the intruder stepped through the door and back into the living room, turning to shine the light all the way around the space.

  “Sher?”

  Just as the light reached us I let go of Sherry and ducked, driving my left fist into Sherry’s stomach while kicking out hard to the side with my right foot, catching her sweetie’s leg on the side, just above the knee. It didn’t break the leg, but it was a good hit, and he went down hard, the flashlight briefly illuminating the ceiling before spinning wildly around as he hit the ground.

  Sherry, was also on the ground, the wind knocked out of her, her knees pulled up to her chest and a keening sound coming from her mouth. I stood back up as Nick came out of the bedroom. He reached over and flicked on the overhead light.

  The intruders were a young man and woman, both skinny and dressed in black. Both with heads shaved and many piercings. The man was holding his leg with one hand, with the other he reached for the heavy flashlight next to him on the floor.

  “Touch it,” I warned him, “and I break all your fingers.”

  He pulled his hand back in.

  “They don’t look like diamond thieves,” said Nick.

  “I don’t think they are,” I said. Nick was looking at me strangely. “What?”

  “You’re wearing my boxer shorts.”

  “Well, I was in a hurry,” I snapped back.

  They just wanted their tools, and their boots. And maybe, ma’am, if it wasn’t too much trouble, that poster on the wall?

  Nick took down the poster and rolled it up while I looked through their wallets and their cell phones. I wrote down their names and numbers. James, the man, sat at the table holding a bag of ice to the side of his leg, his knee was swelling up already. Sherry had gotten her breath back, and was sitting on one of my unpacked cardboard boxes, watching me glumly.

  I stood with my hands on my hips, giving them my old tough cop stare.

  “…you could have gotten yourselves killed, not to mention you could have woken up Mrs. Right,” I droned on. James was staring intently, I thought at my midriff, which was showing between my sports bra and my boxers. Then I realized he was staring at my damaged hand. I pointed at him with my two good fingers.

  “Pay attention when I’m talking to you.”

  “Do you really have diamonds?” Sherry asked.

  “No, of course I don’t. Would I be living here if I did?”

  “So are you calling the cops, or what?” asked James, ready for this ordeal to be over.

  “No, though I should. Take your crap and get out of here.”

  A few minutes later they were treading as softly as possible down the stairs and out to their incredibly unsafe looking Honda Accord, which was at least as old as they were. They got the tools in the trunk, then came back for the boots and the poster. Sherry was put out when she found out I was keeping the pair of Belleville combat boots, but really, how many pairs of boots did she need?

  I closed the door on them and sighed, then started to chuckle. I turned around to see Nick coming out of the kitchen, a glass of water in his hand. He started to chuckle, too.

  “I thought they’d never leave,” he said.

  “I’m hungry,” I said, “I don’t know if I can get back to sleep.”

  He set the glass on the table and walked over to me.

  “I’m hungry, too,” he said, slyly. “And I definitely don’t want to go back to sleep.”

  “Really, what did you have in mind?”

  “Well first,” he said with a grin, reaching out and grabbing my waistband, “I want my boxer shorts back.”

  Twenty-two

  I walked into the reception area of Technology Acquired and was met by an unfamiliar face. And a really big neck. And huge shoulders. The guy was massive, shoe-horned behind the reception desk. I didn’t know they made collars big enough, but his shirt was buttoned all the way up and he even wore a tie.

  I was wearing a mid-length blonde wig, motorcycle leathers, and my leather gloves. In one hand I carried my bright red helmet, in the other a brown paper bag with chocolate chip cookies from Roeser’s Bakery.

  The mountain began to rise behind the desk, but I motioned him back down, waving the paper bag in the air.

  “Cook County medical courier,” I said. “I’m here to collect a urine sample from Mr. Martynek.”

  The man grimaced at me.

  “Red!” called Marty through the open door to his office. “Get in here, would you?”

  I winked at Mountain Man and sashayed through the door, my leather pants and jacket squeaking as I did.

  “I’m not Red today,” I said, tossing the bag of cookies to him.

  “Okay, Blondie,” said Marty, his black hair falling into his eyes as he peered down into the bag. “My favorite!” he exclaimed with delight, withdrawing one of the cookies and taking a giant bite.

  He waved me to a chair on the other side of his desk, but I instead reclined on the architecturally stunning, cantilevered sofa. It wasn’t actually that comfortable.

  He chewed a few more times and then swallowed, sitting behind his desk.

  “Make yourself at home,” he said, and started tapping on his keyboard.

  “I was up half the night,” I said, yawning.

  “Oh? Do tell…”

  “Not that. Well,” I admitted, “a little bit of that.”

  “Speaking of which,” he said, looking over at me, “tell me more about this Officer Park that I sort of met the other day.”

  “Eeew. No, that’s not happening.”

  “Why not?” he asked indignantly. “You get to have midnight trysts, but I don’t?”

  “It’s not that.”

  “Which one of us are you ashamed of?”

  I closed my eyes and exhaled.

  “Neither. I just want to keep things simple, and I’m sure that would be anything but simple.”

  “So I can’t pursue her because it would inconvenience you?”

  I sat up, with great effort. I was exhausted, and the sofa seemed designed to defeat me.

  “Actually, yes. No.” I pressed on when he opened his mouth to object. “Listen, I’m dead. No social network, no college buddies, no friends from work. In time, I can make new friends as Riley McKay, but frankly I haven’t had any time. I just have you, and Ruby. Park, maybe. I’m trying not to get attached.”

  “And your new friend, the artist?”

  “Nick.”

  “Are you ever going to introduce me to Nick? Even Auntie hasn’t met him.”

  “I know. I’m trying to stay compartmentalized. There are some things it’s better, safer that you don’t know. I think Selena proved that. Is there any saving the bunker?”

  He waved my concerns away with one hand, took another cookie with the other.

  “It’ll be okay. They’ll gut it and rebuild it. It will be better, because I’ve suggested some security upgrades.”

  “Like Tristan out there?” I asked, motioning toward reception.

  “Tristan? His name is Mike.”

  “Sure, okay, but wouldn’t Tristan have been a better name, ironic?”

  “Whatever.” He made a few more clicks on his keyboard. “Come over here, I’ve got some stuff about your girlfriend.”

  I looked at him nonplussed.

  “Salerno. Or, Selena as you call her.”

  “Yeah, not my girlfriend.”

  “Huh. Ellery said she saw you two getting it on in Millennium Park.”

  I walked behind his chair and put my hands, semi-playfully, around his throat.

  “Ellery? Ellery? I thought you wanted me to introduce you?”

  “Oh no,” he said, shaking me off. “I introduced myself. I just wanted to know what you thought of her.”

  “No comment.”

  I reached over his shoulder and grabbed a cookie f
rom the bag.

  “Do you think Tristan could get us some milk?”

  “That’s not what Mike is there for.”

  “Speaking of Salerno,” I segued, “show me what you’ve got.”

  Marty brought up a window that said “Audacity” at the top. In the frame was a graph of peaks and valleys: a sound file.

  “I collected all the sound files from the bug in your old phone and had one of my techs scan through them for useful conversations.” He turned to look at me. “Let me just say that your beautiful friend is definitely the strong, silent type. Four days of surveillance, and there’s maybe an hour, total, of speech, and about a third of that is with you.

  “There’s a good amount of grunting and panting, which I really, really hope is her working out.”

  “Marty!”

  “And then there’s this.” He reached forward and hit a key, and the little graph started to jump and dance as Selena’s low, distinctive voice came from the small speakers.

  “It’s in Spanish.”

  “I know,” said Marty, “but I used Google to translate it.” He picked up a piece of paper and handed it to me. I read it aloud.

  The meeting did not go as planned. I was unable to reconvene the diamonds.

  “I think that’s supposed to be recover,” said Marty.

  “Yeah, I get it.”

  “The auto translator isn’t great. You’d think in this day and age—”

  “Shush.”

  But I can get them.

  You say you delivered them to dexterous, but they are not there. You say you get them back, but you doughnut. Why should I believe you?

  Because I know the steaks.

  You have ten days. When I arrive in shit cargo, I expect them in my hand.

  You are coming to chick ago?

  Friday. Do not this anoint me.

  “Holy crap!” I exclaimed, looking up at Marty. “Negron is coming to Chicago!”

  “Or Shit Cargo,” laughed Marty. “Maybe we have nothing to worry about. Who’s Negron?”

  I filled Marty in. I had wanted to keep him out of it, but I felt bad about destroying the bunker, and his sudden need for heightened security. And like I said, I didn’t have that many friends to share with. And a burden shared is… something. I can’t remember. Better.

  “I’ve never heard of Antonio Negron,” said Marty when I had finished. “Not that I’m up on my Mexican crime lords. But if Salerno is afraid of him…”