“Marco left me.”
Silence filled the office.
Peyton closed her eyes and looked down. There, she’d said it. She had to do something to stop Rosa’s interrogation, but that hadn’t really been what she wanted to say, especially not to Rosa Alvarez.
“I see.”
Peyton opened her eyes again, but she avoided looking at her boss. She felt like someone had dropped a weight on her chest and it was difficult to breathe.
“I’m sorry, Peyton.”
Peyton’s gaze snapped to her face.
“I know how much you both care about each other.”
Peyton slid forward in her chair. “I need to work. I need to stay busy. Please don’t send me home.”
“If there’s something you can do…”
“There isn’t. He asked me for time to work through some things he’s facing and I have to give him that.”
“I understand.”
“I need this job and I promise you, Rosa, I won’t compromise my team, I won’t be distracted when you need me. The shock is over, now I’ve got to process the loss, and the only way for me to do that is to work.”
They held each other’s gaze, then Rosa broke eye contact and looked at the photo in Peyton’s hand. “What’s that?”
Peyton glanced down. She’d forgotten she had it. “Um, a photo in a file I was reviewing.” She passed it across the desk. “I took it to Tank to see if he recognized it. It was found on the body of a dead marine.”
Rosa studied the photo from all angles. “Interesting. Looks old, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. The edges are sort of wonky, not like a modern coin.”
Rosa passed it back. “Well, if anyone will be able to figure it out, it’ll be Tank.”
Peyton nodded.
Rosa folded her hands again. “You’ve always conducted yourself with dedication, Agent Brooks. I have no doubt that will continue. My door is always open if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Sarge.”
“You may return to work.”
Peyton let out a breath of relief and scrambled to her feet before Rosa could change her mind. She left Rosa’s office and wandered back to her own, contemplating what Rosa had said. Radar had praised her in his report and Rosa Alvarez seemed pleased with her work. Usually that would send her over the moon with happiness, but today, it left her feeling hollow and alone.
She paused to study the new placard on the wall beside her door. Agent Peyton Brooks. Her daddy would be proud. He’d always told her she was going to do big things. Then why didn’t it feel better? Why didn’t it feel as wonderful as she’d always hoped?
Because there was no one to share the happiness with, and the only person she wanted there for her had taken himself away.
Squaring her shoulders, she stepped into her office. Emma Redford, or rather Bambi, sat in the chairs before her desk, but she popped to her feet the moment she spotted Peyton, her face awash with anticipation.
As she took Peyton in, her expression shifted to sadness. “You have plans for lunch, don’t you?”
Peyton gave a surprised laugh. “No, no I don’t have plans. Where do you want to go?”
Bambi clapped her hands together. “What are you feeling like? Cow, pig, chicken?”
Peyton crossed around her and reached for the Daws’ file, sliding the photo inside. “How about something without a face?”
Bambi nodded vigorously.
Peyton lifted the file and dropped it on the others. “Then when we’re done, let’s go to the practice range and shoot the hell out of things.”
Bambi looked like she might just burst with joy. “Oh, I like the way you think, girlfriend.”
* * *
Ruth handed him a glass of iced tea. He sipped at it and settled it on the table, looking out over the backyard. He held one of Finn’s letters in his hand, but the night was so nice, the air so warm and sultry, he just felt like sitting for a minute and remembering his mother the way she was when he was younger.
Ruth sat down beside him. “You okay?”
He nodded, giving her a smile. “Just thinking about Mom.”
“That’s one of those letters?”
“Yeah.”
“Why do you keep reading them? They make you sad every time.”
“They don’t make me sad. It’s just…”
“What, Jeff?”
“I wish I’d known she was so lonely. She wrote to this boy for years, every week without fail, and she told him things she never told me. Why didn’t she tell me these things? Why didn’t she tell me she was afraid at night? That sometimes she felt too weak to make herself dinner.”
Ruth reached over and settled her hand on his arm. “She was your mother. She didn’t want you to worry. You had your own family you were trying to raise.”
Jeff stared at the envelope, the beautiful handwriting. “They were both lonely. They both felt left out, separated by a world they didn’t understand.”
“What do you mean?”
“Neither one of them understood technology. Remember when I got the cell phone for her.”
“I remember.”
“She told Finn it worried her all the time. She was afraid people were listening to her or watching her through the camera.” He gave a laugh. “When she’d take a shower, she’d hide it in a drawer so the government couldn’t spy on her.”
Ruth smiled.
“I should have spent more time explaining it to her.”
“And it wouldn’t have made any difference. Aster was set in her ways. She didn’t want to adapt. She liked things the way they were and she hated change. You know that. How many times did we try to get her to leave that house?”
“I know.” He gazed at the flowers in bloom, the climbing rose covering the back fence. “I just keep seeing her as that young woman in front of the Washington Monument. Where did that woman go? Why didn’t she keep that adventurous spirit?”
“I think it left when your dad died. He was the adventurous one. Remember how he’d get her to go on those cross country trips and she’d complain, but she’d do it for him.”
Jeff nodded. “She did pull into herself after he died, but I can’t help it, Ruth. I wish I’d tried harder. I wish I would have known. I hate that she was alone.”
Her fingers tightened on his arm. “She wasn’t alone. She had her friend and they were kindred spirits, Jeff, like souls who comforted each other.”
Jeff lifted the letter and read the address for the hundredth time. Kindred spirits? Like souls? God, he hoped that had been enough.
* * *
Dear Aster,
Thank you for asking about Little Gina. She’s doing well. She’ll always have a scar, but unless you get right in front of her, you hardly notice it. She’s gained some weight and that makes Janice happy.
I keep thinking about the hospital. I keep thinking about the doctors and the way they acted. They knew they were helping people. They knew they had power in their hands. I think I’d like to be like them.
I’ve been researching what it would take to become a doctor. Mrs. Elder is helping me. I think that’s what I’d like to do when I leave the family – study medicine. I know it isn’t going to be easy, and it’s going to take a long time, but I can’t imagine anything else making me feel that good.
I’m not sure how I’ll pay for it. Once you leave the family at twenty-one, you’re expected to make it on your own. You can’t come back and ask for help. I get that. It’s hard enough for all of us to make it now. There’s no way they could help me go to school.
Mrs. Elder says there’s a way to accomplish everything. She reminds me a lot of you, Aster. She’s so positive, so certain I can do this. I wish Mama felt the same way. All Mama does is worry about what will happen to me when I leave.
I tell her I’ll be okay. I tell her that a lot of men have left before me, but she still worries. The problem is we don’t really hear from those that leave. They go out into the world and
it swallows them up.
Thatcher says that’s normal. That’s what men do. They go out and start their own families, but some of the mothers, they still miss their sons. They still wish they could see them.
Honestly, they never say that. Not out loud. It would be bad to say such things out loud. It might jinx the men, it might bring bad things to them, so the mothers don’t say it, they just keep it inside, but you can see it sometimes. You can see it in their eyes.
Their eyes say things that their mouths never would. Their eyes say they remember. I know Mama’s eyes will say the same thing when I’m gone. I just know it, but I have to go and she has to learn to accept it.
Your friend,
Finn Getter
CHAPTER 5
Tuesday
Marco’s entire detective force stood around Carly’s desk when he arrived in the morning. Carly sat with her hands in her lap, looking worried. He paused on the other side of the counter, trying to take it all in. He still felt a little fuzzy headed from the pill Abe had given him the previous night, but the pain was manageable.
As always, Tag moved away from the others, grabbing the half-door and pulling it open, so he could address her problem first. “The father of the girl shot the intruder in the back as he was climbing out of her bedroom window. There’s blood splatter on the curtains, the window sill, and the walls on either side of the window. There’s also signs that he was dragged back inside and dumped on her bedroom floor.”
Marco moved through the half-door. “So they dragged him back inside to make sure it looked like he was in the room?”
“Right, but you can’t hide a shot to the back.”
“Meaning he was trying to get away.”
“Exactly.”
“Did Abe get the body?”
“Yeah, I put a call into him, but he’s not there yet.”
“Was the girl in the room when he was shot?”
“Yeah, she was.”
“What time did this happen?”
“2:00AM.”
“Where was she?”
Tag gave him an arch look. “In the room.”
Marco drew a breath for patience. He was going to have to do something about Tag’s antagonism toward him. Cho and Simons marked it and shifted uncomfortably. “I meant where was she exactly? In the bed asleep or near the window?”
“Oh.” She glanced at Holmes.
“By the door,” said Holmes.
“The boy a teenager?”
“Yep,” answered Holmes.
Marco considered that. “And no sign of forced entry?”
“None.”
“Well, in my day, I climbed in a few bedroom windows in the middle of the night.” The men gave him knowing laughs, but Carly looked confused and Tag glared at him. “Meaning, the window was probably left open for him to get inside.”
“You think the daughter knows him?” said Tag.
“I’ll bet she does.”
“And she stood there and denied it the whole time? She said she’d never seen him before in her life.”
“Well, she didn’t want to get in trouble. Let’s bring her in and question her without Dad.”
“The father lawyered up before the cops even arrived, for both of them.”
“Huh, interesting, but we’ll deal with that later. I’ll bet they go to the same school. Head over to the high school and see if he’s a student there. Then find someone who knew the two of them. If we can link them, we might get a shot at interrogating the daughter.”
“On it,” said Holmes. He and Tag headed for the door.
Marco leaned on his cane and faced Simons and Cho. “Well?”
“The headshop case is stalled,” said Cho, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’ve talked with the wife, the two tenants on either side, we’ve pulled his records off the cloud and Stan has gone through them, but he doesn’t see anything fishy in the transactions. All we’ve got is the junky that body slammed you.”
“We’re still holding him?”
“He assaulted an officer of the law. Yeah, we’re still holding him.”
“Well, let’s get him up here for interrogation.”
“Okay.”
“Why’d you bring him in anyway?”
“Byrony, the girl that worked in the headshop, said he came in a few days before the owner was torched and demanded weed, but his prescription had run out, so Greer told him to get lost. He threw a stink and they had to call the cops to remove him. He threatened to kill Greer.”
“Greer’s the headshop owner?”
“Quentin Greer,” offered Simons.
Marco felt a wash of guilt. He didn’t even know the names of the homicide victims they were investigating. Shit, he had to get himself back on track. “What’s the junkie’s name?”
“Albie Brighton.”
“Okay. Let me know when you get him up here. I want to watch the interrogation.”
Simons gave him a salute and Cho nodded, but his eyes traveled over Marco from head to foot. Marco knew he had a lot to repair with his people. He just didn’t know how.
After they left, he looked at Carly.
“They were all demanding to talk to you. Did you want me to call your cell?”
“You could have. You also could have told them to go back to their desks until I get in. Then call them up one at a time once I got settled.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that.”
“Yeah, well, it felt a little like an ambush this morning.”
“You’re right. I’ll do a better job of running interference from now on.” She offered him a bright smile.
He forced one in return. She was wearing a sweater that looked like it was two sizes too small, and he could see a lot more thigh than he probably should, but he just wasn’t sure how to approach that. Shit. All he needed was a sexual harassment case against him now. Lifting his eyes to her forehead, he drew another of Abe’s cleansing breaths. “Can you call Jake Ryder to my office?”
“Yes.”
He turned toward his door.
“Captain?”
He stopped and looked back at her.
“Which one’s Jake Ryder?”
“The CSI.”
“Right. Which button?”
Marco clenched his hand around the head of his cane. “Button number three.”
“Thanks.”
He eased into his desk chair and positioned his leg, hooking the cane over the chair arm. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, staring at the screen. He realized he was hoping for a text from Peyton, but it was Abe. He thumbed it on.
Grey will see you tomorrow afternoon at 2:00PM. I’ll send you the address. Don’t be late. Do you want me to come with you? Abe.
No! texted Marco, just send the address.
Oh, come on, Angel, I’ve been dying to see you in your skivvies for years.
Marco let out a laugh and scrubbed a hand across his face. He wasn’t even going to grace that with an answer.
A knock came on his open door. He lowered the phone and looked up. Jake leaned in the opening. “You wanted to see me?”
“You want to come inside?”
Jake gave him an aggravated look, but came into the office.
“Take a seat.”
He pulled the chair back and sat down.
“Did you get evidence from the case Tag and Holmes are working?’
“Yeah. Took blood samples. Lots of pictures. I was just processing everything when you called for me.” The clipped tone of his voice grated at Marco.
“Good. Did you find anything unusual?”
“What? Beyond the fact that the father shot the kid in the back? Or maybe that it was a sixteen or seventeen year old kid? Or maybe the daughter’s weird affect when she pretended she didn’t know the kid?”
Marco narrowed his eyes on him. “Do you have a problem, Ryder?”
Jake held up a hand and let it fall. “Why would I have a problem?”
“‘Caus
e it seems like I’m getting a whole lot of attitude from you.”
Jake scrubbed a hand across his mouth. “Look, Adonis…” Before Marco could correct him, he held up a hand. “Captain, I’m a little pissed.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you hurt Peyton and that doesn’t track with me, then you put me in a position to defend your sorry ass and the truth is, I’m not sure I should have. I lied to them, Adonis. I perjured myself.”
“You weren’t on trial, Ryder.”
“Well, it didn’t feel right. I lied to a woman that I respect a lot. I lied to Defino.”
“How did you lie?”
“I told her I have faith in your ability to lead this precinct.”
“And you don’t?”
Jake dropped his hand against his thigh. “No, I don’t. You’re a hot mess.”
“I see.”
“And yet, I’m here. And I’ll be here, standing by you, even when I shouldn’t. Even when I think it’s wrong. Even when I think you’re an idiot.”
Marco didn’t answer. He should reprimand Jake for being disrespectful, but he couldn’t. Jake was more than an employee. Marco wasn’t sure what the hell he was, but he was definitely more than an employee.
“So where do we go from here?”
Jake shook his head. “I don’t know, but I just know I don’t give my loyalty lightly, Captain. Neither do the rest of your people. So pull it together because I don’t know if I’ll have your back a second time.”
With that, he pushed himself out of his chair and left the office.
* * *
Albie Brighton looked like a junkie. His brown hair stood up all over his head, not having been washed for weeks. His eyes were bloodshot and he twitched. His leg jumped up and down as he sat handcuffed in the chair, and his eyes darted about the room. A scraggly beard covered his chin and he had open sores around his mouth. Tattoos ran up and down his arms, but Marco could see scabs where he’d been picking at something on his skin.
Mermaids in the Pacific (Peyton Brooks, FBI Book 2) Page 5
