Close Enough to Touch (Rylee Hayes Thriller Book 1)

by Cade Brogan

  “God, I love your spaghetti,” Rylee moaned, dipping a second helping onto her plate. She shook her head. “Grandma tried to replicate your sauce a couple of times, but…” She lifted her eyebrows. “Well, let’s just say it wasn’t the same.”

  “You should’ve called me,” Kenzie said softly, “I’d have given you the recipe.” Boneless pork ribs and a pinch of cinnamon were the ingredients that made the difference.

  Rylee swallowed hard, looking up to meet her gaze. “I just couldn’t, Kenz,” she responded. “It took me a long time before I was even near that place.” She took a breath, allowing it to escape. “And by then,” she continued with a lift of her shoulders, “I’d lost track of you, didn’t have your phone number anymore, and no address, or email.”

  “You’re a police officer, Rye,” Kenzie responded. “I’m pretty sure you could’ve found me if you wanted to.” Truth be known, she’d wished many-a-day that she would have looked for her.

  “Yeah, but it wouldn’t have been right,” Rylee countered, her head still shaking, “to violate your privacy that way.” She took a long swig of her drink. “I’ll get it tonight if that’s okay.”

  “Sure,” Kenzie said, nodding. She looked away and her voice softened. “I don’t know what to say,” she added, “other than I’m sorry.” She swallowed again. “I’m so sorry, Rye. I never meant to hurt you that way.”

  “It’s okay,” Rylee said, meeting her gaze. “What we had didn’t suit you, and if it didn’t, I wouldn’t have wanted you to stay.” She tilted her head, smiling thinly. “You were straight-up, Kenz, honest the whole way.”

  Kenzie fingered through her hair, unable to fill her lungs completely.

  “It’s getting late,” Rylee said, glancing at her watch. “I should be getting on my way.”

  “It’s only eight o’clock,” Kenzie responded, regretting that she hadn’t steered them to lighter topics during the meal. “And we haven’t had any of the wine you brought yet.”

  “I know,” Rylee said, “but Buckshot’ll be ready to go out.” She walked her plate and utensils to the kitchen, rinsing and placing them in the dishwasher. “Thanks for having me over,” she added, putting on her cap, “We’ll have to do this again sometime.”

  “We will,” Kenzie said, following her to the door, and onto the porch. “You didn’t say anything about your grandparents,” she added hopefully. Why hadn’t they talked about day-to-day happenings instead of the breakup? “Are they doing okay?”

  “Yeah, they’re good,” Rylee answered, nodding slowly. “I forgot to tell you that they said to tell you hi.”

  “Tell them I said hi too,” Kenzie responded, flashing back to the day Rylee took her home to meet them for the first time. They would’ve made great in-laws.

  Rylee opened her door without sliding onto the seat. “I saw your pictures on the mantle,” she blurted out softly, “I meant to tell you that Abby was a pretty girl.” She smiled thinly. “She has your eyes.”

  “Thanks,” Kenzie responded. The evening was over and they hadn’t talked about anything they should’ve talked about. She stepped to the window as Rylee shifted into gear. “I had fun tonight,” she said softly.

  Rylee nodded, responding, “Yeah, me too.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kenzie positioned the corkscrew in the center, twisted clockwise, and lifted the handle. She wiggled the cork free by hand, filling a long-stemmed glass with wine. Not exactly how she’d planned for the evening to wrap up, sipping Chablis alone as she finished up in the kitchen. So what if you’d come clean right then and there? What if you’d told her that she was wrong? Would you be drinking alone right now? She wasn’t sure. Nor was she sure she’d have been able to deal with the potential consequences. She pulled in a deep breath, releasing it slowly, ticking through worse case scenarios. Then, she walked to the mantle, lifting one framed photo at a time. She’d always thought Abby looked more like her dad, but maybe not. If only she’d thought to put the last one taken of the three of them away before Rylee saw it. But that’s exactly what you needed to talk about, she told herself. Why hadn’t she seen this coming? She emptied her glass, poured another, and considered her options.

  Much the same as excess time alone in the attic, excess wine had a way of sanctioning Kenzie’s ghosts to float into her peripheral vision. She rinsed her glass, set it in the drainer, and stumbled toward the stairway. With her foot on the bottom step, she turned to check that the latches had been secured. “What’s the worst that could happen?” she slurred, “that mom and dad will stop speaking to you?” She sighed, leaning into the banister. “Who cares?” She stepped two more. “You call ‘em once a week,” she went on, “just tell ‘em what you want to.” Things were different now. She didn’t care nearly as much about what they thought as she used to. At some level, they probably knew it. Her divorce had been the first huge clue. She cleared the last step, making her way into Abby’s darkened bedroom to sit down on the edge of her bed. There was a day, not so awfully long ago that she’d have feared for her mortal soul just for thinking this through—but that was no longer an issue. That’s the one and only thing that she could credit counseling for doing. She bowed her head, asking God what she should do.

  ***

  Rylee’s cell rang as she rolled onto the toll road. “Answer,” she said, expecting to hear Kenzie’s voice. When the call connected, she said, “Hayes,” and heard the voice of her partner.

  “Hey, pal,” Rich greeted. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”

  “You’re not,” Rylee responded, “just heading home.” She checked the out of state license of a car running in the HOV lane. “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah, sure,” Rich answered, “just some drama with my grandbaby’s daddy. Got the daughter here for a few days.”

  “That’s good then,” Rylee said, nodding. “Glad it was nothing serious. You need something?” she asked, taking the exit.

  “Not really,” Rich responded, “just thinking about our bramble case.”

  “Oh yeah?” Rylee answered, her voice lifting. “What about it?”

  “So, I was just checking out the neighbor’s story about the boyfriend.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well,” Rich continued, “turns out the guy does yard care for both buildings. Interesting, don’t you think?”

  “More than interesting,” Rylee responded, “especially if we find out that he’s dated, or was interested in dating, both women.” She shared what she’d done on the case. “So, let’s bring him in on Monday then,” she concluded with a quiet exhale, “and see what he has to say.”

  “You sound like something’s bothering you tonight,” Rich commented. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” Rylee answered, “I’m fine.” The fact that dinner with Kenzie had stirred up a hornet’s nest of emotion was no surprise. What had thrown her off her game was that she’d been wearing that fiery little orange garnet necklace that she’d given her Valentine’s Day, otherwise known as their anniversary. “We can talk on Monday. Hopefully, we won’t have the unfortunate circumstance of getting together before then.”

  “Oh man, don’t jinx us now,” Rich said, “the Cubs have a double header on Sunday.”

  “I know, my DVR’s already set,” Rylee said, whipping her head so that she could see down the next lane. “Can you believe that?” she blurted out. “Some bozo just passed me going ninety-five.” She switched on the strobe light that sat ready on her dash. “I need to catch ya later.”

  “Go get ‘em tiger,” Rich said, laughing.

  ***

  Joanna adjusted the minuscule pillow, turning her head to stare out the window as the commercial jet bounced through the clouds. There were so many things that she hated about flying—the canned air, the narrow seats; but most of all, being trapped, forced to listen to babies crying. Shattering sweet silence, the howls ripped her from order and dropped her into chaos, the
chaos of her childhood. You’ll have a little brother soon, her mom had announced when she was seven. Won’t that be exciting? Now, you’ll have to be really gentle with him at first, she’d gone on and on and on. But later, when he’s big like you, you’ll be able to play ball with him in the yard. The kid cried—and cried—and cried—until she helped him fall silent. She gave the guy in the adjacent seat a sidelong glare. He was pale and gripping his armrests. You better not throw up on me, she snarled in her thoughts. She’d faked it through medical school, but that capacity that most doctors have for bedside manner had never really been installed. Her only exception was caring for her Grandma Marge.

  When the plane landed ahead of schedule, Joanna praised the Lord, and used the bonus time wisely. She collected her bag from the upper compartment and traversed the narrow aisle. She drove east to Indiana for the first ingredient and collected two more on her way home. She unpacked her bag, pulled on a long sleeved t-shirt, and snapped on gloves. Although she’d never worked in the field of pharmaceutical chemistry, her training was invaluable. She crushed the leaves and tubers, extracting their deadly juice for her next poison. The fourth ingredient should arrive that evening or tomorrow morning. Plenty of time to dispatch her next target on schedule. She ran her fingers along the top row of the specimen bottles in her lockbox, returning to enter the combination one more time once she’d slipped on her white cotton nightgown. She dug to the bottom of the box, removing specimen #1. She’d held his tiny stiffening finger, being careful to snip only the nail. It had fascinated her. She wasn’t sure why. Going home, sleeping in the bed she’d slept in as a child, had a way of bringing on a wave of nostalgia.

  The doorbell rang.

  It was her neighbor from across the way.

  “The mailman left this on my porch,” the lady said. “Don’t know what he was thinking.”

  “Thank you,” Joanna responded, reaching for the small package.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Welcome back,” Kenzie greeted, smiling. “It’s a great church, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” Joanna responded. “I’ve enjoyed being here.”

  Kenzie’s brow crinkled as she tilted her head. “Sounds like you’re not planning to return.”

  “I’m not,” Joanna said, her gaze darting off for a moment, adding, “I’m a traveler.”

  “Ahh, I understand,” Kenzie answered, nodding. “Well, we’re glad you took the time to visit us while you were here.”

  “Thank you,” Joanna responded, her eyes finding the coffee bar. “Well, it’s been good talking with you.” She smiled. “I think I need an espresso.”

  “Good talking with you too,” Kenzie responded. “Enjoy your drink.”

  ***

  The band’s selections were from the last decade. Joanna recognized two of the five songs as being from the Gospel Top Fifty Countdown. During the one about the mountains bowing down to God, the worshipers reached for the sky and then their toes. She didn’t care for the childish nature of the gesture but did it anyway. It would’ve been too conspicuous not to follow along. Seated a couple rows behind her next target, she found it difficult to concentrate on the message that morning. It wasn’t that she was worried, just that she was thinking about what it would be like. Would she scream? Would she make an attempt to cover herself? Would her eyes widen before they became vacant? She’d done—would do—everything in her power to assure that her death came as quickly as possible. She couldn’t help that it would be painful. The kid wasn’t with her today and she guessed that she was on that missionary trip the pastor had talked about. Maybe it’d be easier just to do it today. She knew what she was doing. She didn’t need as much preparation as she allowed. Forgive me, Lord, she prayed. Not one dispatch since my oath, and already I’m prepared to be impulsive. Her breath caught in her throat as a voice in her mind said, you know this transgression will require penance. She nodded. “I know,” she whispered, making her way down the last row of the parking lot. “Tonight,” she promised.

  ***

  The house was roughly as wide and deep as it was tall. Mint green with white trim, having dormers on every roof slope, each one with a mini roof, identical to the larger version of itself. The older Buick was in the driveway, not the garage. Except for fresh paint, the house looked much the same as it had fifteen years ago.

  Kenzie parked in front, walked the sidewalk, stepped three wooden steps, and knocked on the storm door. What else could she do? It was Sunday, a day off, and the card hadn’t listed a cell. Had she been thinking, she’d have asked for a home address and phone number. Her breathing accelerated with each minute she waited for someone to answer the door.

  “Oh, my,” Gladys greeted, “what a surprise.” It was an understatement considering that she hadn’t visited since she broke-up with Rylee.

  “I’d have called, but I didn’t see a listing,” Kenzie said.

  “We don’t have one,” Gladys responded. “We cut back to just the cell a couple years ago. It’s worked out just fine,” she continued, lifting both eyebrows, “except that we’re not in the phonebook.” She held the door open, smiling, “It’s so good to see you, dear. Come in.”

  Kenzie’s hands found her pockets. “It’s good to see you too,” she responded. She’d thought this to death, but dear God, what was she thinking? As Gladys stood waiting, she searched for more words. “I won’t take much of your time,” she continued, “I was just hoping you’d be willing to give me Rye’s number.”

  “Of course I will,” Gladys said, “but I may not need to.”

  Kenzie cocked her head.

  “Because she’ll be here in a few minutes,” Gladys said with her eyes twinkling. “How about you stay for dinner?” She smiled. “If I remember right, you used to like my baked fettuccini alfredo.”

  “Oh, I don’t want to intrude,” Kenzie responded, scooting forward, prepared to stand.

  “You’re not intruding,” Gladys said, reaching over to pat her leg, “because you were invited to stay. So, come on,” she continued, “how about you help me finish up in the kitchen?”

  “I’d love to,” Kenzie said, following, even though she didn’t need to because she knew her way. “Everything looks the same,” she commented, touching the ceramic mushroom handles on the orange and brown canisters. The woven brass bowl with bananas, apples, and peaches sat below the hanging pans. She caught the older woman’s eye. “I’ve missed you guys,” she said.

  “As we missed you, Kenzie Ann,” Gladys answered, handing her a head of iceberg lettuce. “You’ll find lots of veggies in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator.”

  “I bet I will,” Kenzie said, remembering how Gladys had always said a salad wasn’t a salad without lots of color. She’d thought of her many times as she’d prepared salads over the years.

  A knife chopped against the cutting board.

  A spoon scraped the bottom of the pan.

  An oven dinged notification that it was preheated.

  “I don’t mean to pry,” Gladys said hesitantly, “but…”

  Kenzie looked over. “It’s okay,” she said softly, “you can say it.”

  A knife chopped against the cutting board.

  A spoon scraped the bottom of the pan.

  A bowl pinged as radishes and carrots joined the lettuce.

  “No,” Gladys said, shaking her head, and pursing her lips, “I need to mind my own business. It’s not my place.”

  Kenzie nodded, swallowing as she looked away. She wasn’t prepared to say what Gladys wanted her to say.

  “I should go out and get Omar,” Gladys said, “give him a chance to visit with you before Rylee gets here. Did I tell you she’s off fishing? Wanted her grandpa to go with her, but he thought he should stay home to weed the garden instead.”

  “Yeah,” Kenzie answered, smiling kindly, “you told me.”

  Gladys nodded as she rinsed her hands. “Can you keep an eye on this for me?” she ask
ed, palming down her apron.

  “I can,” Kenzie said, losing track of time as her mind flipped through a Rolodex of memories.

  ***

  Blessed with a greater intellect than the majority of the population, Joanna had already learned all of the useful side street shortcuts. You have mushrooms to process, she told herself. She headed north on Pulaski. I know, but I’ll have time before bed. She turned northeast on Columbus, north on Western, and east on 55th. And penance to do, she thought. She slowed to a crawl as she rounded the back of the building. I know, she answered. I’ll do it after the poison is blended. She bit the inside of her cheek upon the discovery that Rylee’s truck wasn’t there. After surveying the block to be certain that she hadn’t parked elsewhere, she turned off her ignition. You have more important matters to tend to than your most recent obsession, she barked in her head. She frowned, considering the possibility that the detective was out with a woman. She’d inquired discretely and confirmed that that was her preference. She glanced away, gnawing on the inside of her lip. More penance, she threatened. She squinted, staring down at the entrance. Just because a woman intrigues you, doesn’t make her an obsession, she countered. “Nor does it make you a homosexual. She stroked her arm as she checked her watch again—and—again—and—again.

  ***

  It was the last thing Rylee expected, to find Kenzie’s car parked in front of the house. She pulled into the driveway, taking a moment before getting out. “Looks like we have company,” she greeted, noticing the late afternoon shadows on the back walk, as her grandparents came her way.

  “Yes, we do,” Gladys responded. “I opened the door and there she was asking for your phone number.” She held her granddaughter’s gaze with gentleness. “I didn’t give it to her. Thought it best to let you do that yourself. I did, however, ask her to stay for dinner.” Her eyes narrowed. “I hope that’s okay.”