by Lynette Mae
Once again, the mosquitoes were out in thick, savage groups that attacked when he exited his car. “Fucking hell hole,” he muttered as he charged toward the front door with his six-pack and burger meal.
The beer was tepid, at best. After his first swig he put two bottles in the freezer, knowing that he would drink them before the nearly antique refrigerator could cool them down. He carried a bottle to the sparsely furnished living room and placed it on the worn wooden coffee table next to a cardboard box. When he hit the switch, the window air conditioner stuttered and finally groaned to life, pushing a musty smell into the room. The itch beneath the cast had driven him insane all day, and he cursed the bitch cop responsible. Jamming a twig from an oak branch beneath the plaster, he scraped at the incessant irritation until the tickle stopped. The doc at the clinic estimated one week more, then he could rid himself of the plaster pain in the ass all together.
He returned to sit on the old threadbare couch and contemplated the contents of the box in front of him. His father had kept meticulous private records of his investigations. He always said it was good to cover your own ass. The box contained numerous files and pages of notes. Honeycutt sorted through the papers, not really knowing what he was looking for, but hoping that something would be helpful.
He gulped his beer and opened the next folder, glancing quickly through the record before tossing the file aside. A page slid out to land at his feet. The picture of a dark-haired woman stared back at him from the page. He immediately recognized her. His father had made handwritten notes on a page attached to the picture.
An evil grin split his face as he read. “Well, well, well,” he spoke out loud. “It’s the fucking dyke that chased me out of the hospital with James’ little whore. Captain McKinley, whaddaya know? You’re not just another meddling cop friend of James’. You helped her ruin Pop. In fact, you orchestrated the way they twisted the truth, making Pop seem like an obsessed nut.”
He chugged the rest of the beer and went to the kitchen for another, stopping to stare at his father’s picture hanging on the refrigerator door. “Don’t you worry, Pop. They’ll all pay for what they did to you. I swear it.”
Chapter Nineteen
THE NEIGHBORHOOD DINER was packed with the usual lunch crowd. Devon approached, methodically negotiating the three steps onto the deck. A woman reached past her at the top and held the door for her to enter. She thanked the woman, who smiled in return. She scanned the interior and spotted Mac in a corner booth at the rear with her cell phone to her ear. The buzz of conversations mingled with sounds of clanging plates from the kitchen. A man yelled, “Order up!”
Val waved from behind the counter. Devon and Mac had been coming to the diner since they first moved to Tampa, and Val was a fixture of the place. She pushed a wayward lock of silver hair away from her face. “What’re ya drinkin’ today, Devon?”
“How ’bout some of your famous mint tea?”
“I’ll bring a pitcher, honey.”
As Devon drew nearer, she heard Mac say, “He could’ve killed her.” Mac paused to listen, then said. “I know.”
Devon stopped at the table and leaned her crutches in the corner, then hopped around to the opposite side and eased into the seat across from Mac. She propped her casted leg up and leaned back against the wall. Mac held up a finger, indicating she’d only be a minute. Devon nodded and busied herself perusing the menu.
Mac said, “We haven’t found him yet. We will though. No. I’m glad you’re not here. We have no way of knowing whether he’s aware you’re here in Florida, too. With you out of town, that’s one less thing for me to worry about.” Another pause. “And here I thought you were coming just to see me.”
Devon realized that the person on the other end of the call was Jillian. Whatever Jillian said in response caused a slow smile to slide over Mac’s face, the kind of smile that made Devon suddenly feel like a voyeur. Mac glanced at her and flushed. Thankfully, Val showed up with the pitcher of tea and took her order.
Devon sipped her tea and watched her friend. She was glad to see Mac happy, not just on the surface, but through and through. Mac’s easygoing character was always a counterpoint to Devon’s own naturally pessimistic personality. Mac saw the good in people despite her experience with heartache. That was one of the things that Devon admired most about her. She had to admit that it stung a little at first having Mac defend Jillian. A part of Devon still clung to her pain like an amulet that might shield her heart. But, just as she had so many times, Mac showed Devon the power of possibility—a chance for lasting friendship with a woman she genuinely cared for.
“Actually, Devon just showed up. Yes, I’ll tell her. Uh, huh. Call you later, babe.”
Mac set her phone down, grinning like a little kid with a big secret. “Jill says hi.”
Devon nodded. “Among other things...babe.”
“Ass.” Mac tossed a packet of crackers at her head. They both chuckled.
“Jill’s out of town?”
“Yeah.” Mac shifted in the booth. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“What’s up?”
“It might be nothing, but our division secretary said she got a couple of weird calls. The first time a guy asked if I worked there. She said it was like someone checking a job resume or something. Then yesterday she got another call. This time the guy wanted to know what my position was. Audrey told him he’d have to call personnel for any specific information.”
“Did this guy identify himself?” Devon asked.
“No. That’s why she didn’t give him any information. We did a media piece recently about police helicopters, so she thought maybe that was related. I wasn’t really concerned, until I remembered that you got that odd call at the hospital, and Junior’s been MIA. What do you think? It might be some random thing.
“Or not.” Devon said.
“What?”
“This morning when I left the house, I found water in the street like an air-conditioned car had been idling there for a while.”
Mac gaped at her. “You didn’t see anyone, hear anything?”
“No. And it couldn’t have been from Jessie’s car because she was home a couple hours before I got up. I was paranoid until I got to work and we heard Honeycutt on the wire. He’s somewhere across the state, so it wasn’t him in front of my house. I don’t have to tell you how relieved I was to know that with Jessie home sleeping.” Devon took a gulp of her tea.
“Still, it could have been one of his boys.”
“True. Or it could be nothing,” Devon said, trying to convince herself.
“I don’t like it.” Mac shook her head. “Somebody’s watching your house? Kelsey needs to put somebody on your street. That’s not good.”
“I’ll be fine. There’s more, though. We got a break in the investigation.”
“Really? Tell me.”
“A call this morning ties Honeycutt and Roy to the car that hit me.”
“Dev, that’s awesome! Do we know where he is?” Mac spread mayonnaise on her chicken sandwich and replaced the top half of the bun.
“Only a general area. And, you won’t like the rest.” She waited until she had Mac’s complete attention. “The phone he called from is in Orange County.”
Mac grew still. “What? Did you get a location on it?”
“Yes. It’s a payphone though. A tiny gas station in a place called Zellwood.”
“Jill said she was checking something for you, is that what she meant?”
Devon nodded.
Mac’s lips compressed into a thin line. Her gray eyes reminding Devon of snow clouds on a dark winter day.
“I don’t like this,” Mac said.
“We’re getting close on the wire. I think we’ll have something very soon.”
Mac went on as if Devon hadn’t spoken. “Now Junior’s near Orlando? Maybe? We need a full task force. There are too many threads and now locations. How the hell are we supposed to keep Jillian safe
from over here?” She clenched her fist on the table and Devon shared her frustration and fear.
“How long will Jill be gone?”
“She’s in Milwaukee for ten days.”
“Perfect. She’s safe up there. Bring her to Tampa when she gets back and the four of us can talk things over. A task force is fine, but when it gets right down to it, with Junior, this is purely personal. We’ll have to consider our best options. When Jill’s friend checks out the Orange County location, we’ll figure out what to do on that end. Okay?”
Mac nodded in half-hearted agreement. She looked Devon in the eye. “This is really fucked up.”
“I know how you feel. He’s taken a shot at me, and I’m scared shitless he’ll try to hurt Jessie, or Jillian, or you. Much as I’d love blazing into Roy’s shop and going crazy SWAT on his ass, we can’t. Yet. Working the wire and waiting for Roy or his doper buddies to bring Honeycutt back out of hiding is the best shot we’ve got at nailing all of them.”
“What if he doesn’t surface?” Mac asked. “That payphone might just be a stop on the way to somewhere else. If we wait, he might vanish.”
“Could be. But my gut says he’ll want another shot at me. He’s gone to a lot of trouble to be here locally. Remember he went as far as to show up at the station to see me face to face. I think he’s biding his time. Now that I’m back—at least on the desk—I’ll fiddle around on the computer and see if I can come up with anything else. Junior’s too much like his old man. He’s out there somewhere, planning his next move.” Her eyes were hard now. “This isn’t over.”
THOUGHTS OF JUNIOR and his father hovered in her consciousness the entire drive home and Devon’s anger simmered. Her memories drifted to her time in Boston, when her world was fresh and alive and full of possibility. Destiny had brought her to the army, where she’d found her niche in the discipline of the military, and amazingly, discovered herself the day she’d met Jillian. They were young and in love and the world was right. Then, Martin Honeycutt began his crusade, destroying everything she had, bit by bit, until her life was reduced to a pile of waste, like the smoldering rubble in the Beirut desert.
Now, just when she’d dared to think that the universe had given her the “all clear” and the glimpse of a bright future with a wonderful woman, history was threatening to repeat itself. Another Honeycutt was out to destroy her, only this time the stakes were so much higher. Devon knew if something should happen to Jessie she would never survive that cataclysmic loss. She cursed the cast on her leg and wondered how the hell she was going to take care of Jessie when she was still on the mend herself. Maybe Junior would stay hidden beneath whatever rock he had crawled under long enough for her to get back to full duty. In the meantime, she needed to figure out how to be ready for anything. This time around, failure was not an option.
Rounding the corner onto her block, she saw a car she didn’t recognize parked just where the unexplained spot had been in the morning. A cold chill went down her spine. Her mind raced, wondering if Honeycutt knew where she lived.
Devon scanned the scene before her. Jessie stood on the porch with someone partially obscured by the front pillar. Her posture was tense, arms folded across her chest, as she listened to whatever the visitor was saying. The other person stood with her back to the street, and it didn’t appear as though Jessie was in immediate danger. Devon pulled into the driveway, still watching Jessie.
Devon hopped out on one foot and retrieved her crutches from behind her seat. She slung her bag over her shoulder and settled the crutches under her arms to make her way up the walk. As she neared the porch steps, she was glad to be wearing dark sunglasses because it was Angela who glanced her direction.
The sight drove a knife of uncertainty into Devon’s gut. What was Angela doing here? Her focus shifted from Angela to Jessie, trying to read the dynamic. Jessie stood confidently, although relief was evident on her face when she saw Devon. She gave a reassuring nod.
Slumping, Angela shoved her hands into her front pockets and dropped her head. Devon couldn’t be certain, but as she crutched up the stairs, she thought the other woman’s eyes looked swollen, as if she’d been crying. She moved aside to allow Devon room to make her way onto the porch.
“Are you okay?” Devon’s question was for Jessie, who stood calm and stoic in the face of whatever anguish Angela was going through. Angela looked like she might crumble, and if Devon didn’t know the pain she’d caused Jessie, she might have even felt sorry for her.
Jessie shifted her gaze to Devon and smiled. “Yes. Angela was just leaving.”
Devon nodded. She started toward the door to give them privacy.
“Can you give us a minute, Jessie?” Angela asked.
The request stopped Devon in her tracks. What the hell was Angela asking for?
Jessie squeezed Devon’s arm before going inside, leaving her alone with Angela in the sticky afternoon heat. There was no doubt the other woman was an emotional wreck. Devon waited for whatever it was that she had to say. Angela sniffed and sucked in a deep breath to gather herself. She straightened and squared her shoulders, reluctantly raising her red, swollen eyes to Devon’s.
“Listen. I came here to talk to Jessie. To see if there was any chance...” She shifted her feet and looked away. “I had to know. She wouldn’t take my calls. I went by her folks’ place, but they wouldn’t talk to me. So, I didn’t have any choice. I had to hear it from her. Surely you can understand that?”
Actually, Devon did understand it on some level. She also knew she would do absolutely anything to keep from losing Jessie. “Were you here this morning?”
Angela sighed. “Yeah, I followed her when she got off her shift. I knew she wasn’t going to her parents’ place lately. I didn’t realize it was your house until I saw your car in the driveway.”
Relief flowed through Devon. She wasn’t crazy about Angela following Jessie around, but at least the stalker wasn’t Junior. “Do you understand now?”
“No. Yes. I mean—I get it. She made her choice very clear.” Angela slumped against the round pillar and raked a hand through her hair. “I’ll never understand how I could’ve let her go.”
“I guess that’s the only thing you and I will ever have in common,” Devon said.
“I’m sorry I came.” Angela dug her keys out of her pocket.
“Jessie is free to do whatever she wants. I don’t control her, and she’s not a piece of property belonging to anyone. But I will not have you or anyone else disturbing her. Jessie made her own choice to be here. She’s moving on, Angela. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going inside.”
Angela’s boots clomped down the stairs and she started toward her car.
Devon watched her go, then called out, “Angela.”
She twisted around halfway in response. Devon took off her sunglasses so Angela could see her eyes. “It’s over. I’ve allowed you some leeway because I didn’t want to overstep where Jessie is concerned. Now I think it’s time to settle this between us. This is my home. Don’t come here again without an invitation, and do not bother Jessie from this moment on or you’ll answer to me. Understand?”
Angela’s dark head bobbed in response.
“See you at work then.”
Without another word, Angela got into her car and roared away from the curb.
Devon pulled open the screen door. Inside, she found Jessie at the kitchen counter, staring into her coffee cup. She moved behind her stool and after setting aside her crutches, slipped her arms around Jessie’s waist. “Are you okay?”
“As long as I have you.”
Jessie leaned into her, and as Devon nuzzled her neck, she inhaled deeply the scent of lavender.
Jessie said, “I’m sorry Angela came here.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. And for the record, you don’t have to answer to me or get my permission for anything.”
“But this is your home. I’m sure you don’t want to deal with my problems here.”
>
“It’s okay, Jess. We’ll work it out.”
Jessie started to speak and then hesitated. Her expression was odd, and Devon felt an air of disappointment. She tilted her head to catch Jessie’s eye. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” Jessie said unconvincingly.
Devon pulled Jessie into a tight hug, wishing she could wrap her in a protective cocoon, safe from any danger or heartache. Jessie dropped her head onto Devon’s shoulder and pressed more tightly against her. She kissed the top of Jessie’s head, praying that Angela and her drama were gone for good.
Chapter Twenty
DEVON SAT AT the wire room table with files and copies of reports all around her, thoughts scribbled on scraps of paper, and sticky notes affixed to pertinent information. It was eight-thirty on Friday night, long after she had usually gone home.
“What’s all this?” Kelsey wanted to know as she entered the wire room. She looked fatigued. Unlike Devon, she’d been burning the midnight oil, listening to the wire as much as possible late into the night. This weekend she was scheduled to have a well-deserved couple of days off.
Devon tucked her pen behind her ear. “I started from scratch with all of the files you’ve given me since the last month. There’s something missing that will tie this all together. I just need to find it.”
Kelsey held out a manila folder. “Sorry, here’s one more you can start on in the morning. It’s getting kind of late, bud. Don’t you need to get home to that cute rookie? If I had her waiting for me, I wouldn’t be slaving over work in this dungeon. You’ve been pushing hard all week. The case will still be here tomorrow.”
