He sobbed a few times, snot filling his nose, and then added, “And I’m telling you right now, Sheriff, consider it my confession right up front, if anyone hurt her? I’m going to kill them myself. With my bare hands.”
Conch hadn’t believed that he could ever take a man wearing a dress seriously.
But he did.
CHAPTER 12
TAMARA WAS MOSTLY SURPRISED when Ben called her cell, but not entirely. They hadn’t spoken since their near-tryst in the office. But he’d sent a short apology email the morning after their office moment, to which she’d politely replied. She figured it was only a matter of time before he reached out again.
When he did they spoke briefly about how she was getting along and how the kids were doing. Then they discussed her leave of absence. Six weeks of leave tacked onto the six weeks of vacation she’d accrued. Three months total. As silly as it sounded, Tamara couldn’t believe it would be anywhere near long enough. Especially if nothing changed.
It was an unusually hot day in the San Gabriel Valley for this time of year, the kind of day where the heat waves would hit the top of the pool and drag across the surface. Being in a hilly area like La Canada, where the heat could become trapped and linger for days, didn’t help. She was seated on the patio, her feet kicked up on the chair opposite her, the pool filter humming away in the background as a dragonfly bobbed and zigzagged nearby.
The pool was too dirty to use. Though they had Juanita to help with the house and the kids, and a gardener who came twice a month, Kyle had always enjoyed cleaning the pool on his own for some reason. Now, even the dozens of leaves that floated in lazy, crisscross patterns across the surface of the water seemed to testify to his absence.
As if on cue, Ben asked, “Any word on Kyle yet?”
“Nothing.”
He sighed. “I’m really sorry you’re going through this.”
“We’ll be fine.”
“Thanks for responding to my email too, by the way.”
“What? Did you think I was just going to delete it?”
“No.” He half-chuckled. “Just move it to the spam box, maybe?”
“Ben. C’mon now,” she said.
He was silent for a moment. “Well, I would’ve kept emailing you anyway, ya know.”
She smiled uncomfortably. Trudy was inside packing to go home, her flight only hours away, and already the threat of loneliness was creeping into Tamara’s mind. Still. She knew that Ben wasn’t the answer, surely not now and probably not ever. Still. He was trying. It was the biggest perk of being so young: you still thought you had unlimited tries.
“Well. You didn’t have to. I appreciated the apology, even if—like I said in my reply—I was just as guilty as you.”
“So what now?”
Her head was propped up on the arm she had angled against the table. “Now? Now is the same as before. Not all that much has changed. My husband is still missing. The kids are still a mess.”
“And the police are looking for him and that cop now too?”
“Yep.”
“So I guess that’s it then? We wait.”
She furrowed her brow. “Well, Ben, with all due respect, ‘we’ don’t do anything. I do. You have nothing to do with it.”
“Ouch.”
“You had to know I was going to say that.”
“Knowing and hoping are two different things,” he replied quickly.
She rolled her eyes. She was too old for this shit. He was just reminding her now of what she’d done.
“Ben, I—”
“Tamara. There was something there. I know you felt it. Just like I did.”
She took a deep breath, as much air as she could gulp in, then exhaled slowly, feeling her lungs contract before she replied, “Yeah. Ben. It was lust. Pure and simple.”
“Lust?”
“Yes.”
“You think that’s all it was?”
“Yes. Well, that and the fact that I was in a really bad place, emotionally.”
“So. Great. Lust and a mistake, then?”
“Ben. I’m sorry. I had no right to drag you into this.”
It was funny how everything in life was learned behavior. It had been many years since she’d had to have a conversation like this, before she was married and had children. Still. The old defenses of wariness, weariness and dread rose in her. She knew how this played out now: he would get mad, then throw a tantrum, then be confused, before finally arriving at some sort of hurt. Then she would feel bad, or guilty, and be stuck wanting to make him feel better without still giving him the wrong idea. It was the world’s oldest example of a no-win situation.
Instead, he surprised her. After being quiet for a bit, he spoke up. “It’s okay. You didn’t drag me into this. I did it to myself. It’s cool. You’re married and I should’ve known better.”
She raised her eyebrows and then nodded slightly, even though he couldn’t see either gesture. “I should’ve too.”
“Anyway. You told me something that day, over lunch, about how everything seemed so dark now. Do you remember?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it any better?”
Her heart felt heavy. She didn’t want to answer honestly, but she did. “Not much.”
“Yeah. I figured. Things only got worse, didn’t they?”
“That just about sums it up.”
“Well. I wish I could help.”
It was time for her to be firm. “Well, Ben. You can’t.”
He cleared his throat. “I know. I really do. When you come back to work, let’s just pretend it never happened?”
She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Yeah. That would be good.”
She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she didn’t know if she’d ever go back to work, that in the lonely hours of non-sleep that haunted her every night, she’d pondered the idea of resigning one minute, then requesting that the partners assign Ben off her team the next. There’d be other projects where he could make his mark, with other project leaders.
“Well,” he said, a tone of finality to his voice, “time for a confession.”
She squinted her eyes. This couldn’t be good.
“I came by earlier.”
“You what?” Tamara said, shocked. Trudy hadn’t told her anything, nor had the kids. “No one told—”
“No. I didn’t have the guts to knock. I brought a gift for you. I dunno. Just a little something for the darkness. I left it at the door. I don’t think anyone saw me.”
She was a little put off, but also a little touched. “Ben. You shouldn’t have. I mean—”
“Look. It’s no big deal. You don’t have to call me back or thank me or anything. Something just told me to get it for you.”
Tamara paused for a moment. Through the sliding glass doors she watched Janie dancing to a song on her iPod, moving in slow semicircles, perhaps thinking no one could see her. Seeing her daughter dancing touched her deeply. It was the first sign that maybe, just maybe, despite what had happened to their lives, they might still get back to some kind of normal. “Okay. Fair enough.”
When he spoke next he sounded a little sad. “Just get better. And, well, I hope things work out for you, okay?”
“Okay.”
After they exchanged goodbyes, Tamara got up and went into the house through the sliding glass doors, disturbing Janie’s dance solo. Upon seeing her mother, she hopped onto the couch and crawled under a blanket, perhaps feeling guilty at appearing happy. The last few days, with Trudy’s flight home approaching, both children had been very, very quiet. They were all going to have to adjust now. Again.
“You okay, hon?” she asked Janie.
Janie nodded in reply, her earbuds still in. She either had the volume down low enough to hear Tamara or had read her lips.
Tamara’s curiosity was getting the better of her, so she went through the living room and down the hall to the front door.
When she opened it, she saw a ta
ll, white cardboard box tied with green ribbon and a green bow, sitting right there in the center of the welcome mat.
At first she thought it must be a bottle of wine. The box was tall enough for it, though perhaps a bit too wide. But when she went to lift it she realized that it was far too heavy to be wine. Holding it in both hands, she carried it to the dining room, where she put it on the table and opened it.
Inside, wrapped in white tissue paper, was an ornate, antique-looking metal lantern.
The card that accompanied it sweetly said, “A little something to light your way.”
“SO? Any word on the girl?” Parker asked. He’d just gotten into town and was now tilted back in a chair in Conch’s office, a cup of lukewarm coffee in one hand, his chin resting in the other.
“Nothing,” Conch replied, tapping his pen on the edge of his desk as he glanced at Kendall. “You find out anything?”
“Anna Cadenas is in Sacramento visiting her boyfriend in the air force, who just got stationed there. She left town last week, so she’s out. Holly Van Phue is fairly new in town. Helping to take care of her aunt, who has cancer for the third time.”
Conch grimaced. “Third time?”
“Shit,” Parker added.
“Yep. Tough old broad. Holly’s no wilting flower either.” Kendall sighed.
“How so?”
“Independent woman and proud of it. So much so that I think she wanted to beat my ass just for being male.”
“What?” Parker asked with a laugh.
Conch shook his head. “Means Kendall tried flirting with her and got put in his place, is all.”
Kendall shrugged and raised his eyebrows. No admission. No denial. “I was just doing my job, boss.”
“Uh-huh. And?”
“Her and Ashley were really close, I guess.”
“As friends or more than friends?” Parker asked.
“It’d be hard to take if Holly were gay,” Kendall sighed. “You should see her. The stuff of my dreams, my friend.”
Conch shook his head. “Man. Ya know, one good thing about getting old?”
“What’s that, Sheriff?” Parker asked.
“Your willy sleeps more than it thinks… which makes for a more peaceful existence on this earth.”
Parker smiled.
“Go ahead, Kendall.”
“Anyway. She was with her aunt and the neighbor, a retired nurse, all night and this morning. Seems freaked out over Ashley. In the right kinda ways.”
“Okay. Who else?”
“Sammy Antista. Works for DWP. Was with his crew switching out lines over on Dearden Street since four this morning.”
“They work that early?”
“Not the lines. From four to five they were mainly going over the plans and getting equipped for the job. Got to the site a little after six. Dearden is a main juncture on the grid, so they wanted to get it done by nine.”
“And the job went to shit and they were stuck there until eleven, right?”
“Now we know why we got all the complaint calls about the traffic lights being out over there,” Conch said wryly. “And what about Wally?”
“Ah yes. The famous Wally,” Kendall said.
Conch looked at Parker. “Parents musta liked Leave it to Beaver.”
Parker looked at him, feeling clueless.
“Jesus. You too, huh? Neither one of you guys seen a single episode of Leave it to Beaver in your entire lives?”
Parker looked at Kendall, who said, “I don’t know what he’s talking about either, man.”
“It’s a damn sad world,” Conch said with a shake of his head.
Kendall cleared his throat and moved on. Parker took another sip of his coffee.
“Anyway, Wally is our only ‘maybe.’ Ex-friend-with-benefits. Works at the Nabisco plant. Got off at midnight. Hung out with a few coworkers until about two, then went home with one of them, a Kimberly Tote. They, uh, shared some quality time together. She slept over, verifies they were still together this morning when the sun came up.”
Conch let out a low whistle.
Looking at Conch, Parker said, “Still happy your willy don’t work so good no more?”
Kendall smiled.
“Moving right along,” Conch replied.
They shared a laugh before Kendall finished, “So I don’t really make him for it either.”
“But you still give him a ‘maybe.’ Why?” Parker asked.
Kendall seemed to mull it over for a moment. “I dunno. Kid’s kinda shifty. Seemed too nervous. Possible he and the girl aced Ashley. Love triangle, maybe?”
“Maybe,” Conch mumbled. “Or maybe you’ve been watching too many cop shows.”
“Or the kid had a stash of weed under the couch cushion,” Parker added.
Kendall shrugged in reply.
“And by the way,” Conch added, suddenly serious, “we don’t use the word ‘aced’ yet, or any variation of it, okay, Kendall?”
“Got it,” Kendall answered. For the first time Parker noticed that Kendall had a good-guy demeanor about him, and it was obvious that he looked up to the sheriff.
“Anyway, my list is up next. First, Hazel Jay. Went to her home. Nothing. Called her cell. Left a message. I sat out in front of her home for an hour. Nothing. She finally returned my call an hour ago. She was at her boyfriend’s house all night. Sounds like her and Ashley were close. She’s freaking out. Left the boyfriend’s house to drive over to see Ashley’s mom. Wants to come by the station today to help in any way that she can. Names. Boyfriends. Ex-boyfriends. Whatever. Says Ashley hasn’t been with anyone for a while.”
“Okay. Whatever that means,” Parker said, bringing all four legs of his chair to the floor.
“Thank God,” Conch shot, noticing him do so. “I’ve been holding my breath waiting for you to tip over backwards this whole time.”
“What about Joslin?” Kendall asked.
Conch raised his eyebrows. “Joslin is an odd one. Video game nerd. Online all night. Xbox Live. Says we can pull his account to see the activity. My guess is, as far as friends go, he’s Ashley’s go-to crutch. Been friends since third grade. He didn’t handle it well either. Tried calling her in front of me multiple times. Seemed genuinely confused. Boy’s in love. Probably figured he’d marry her someday when she finally noticed him.”
“Still not an alibi.”
“Correct, young Jedi,” Conch said with a frown. “Joslin’s parents are out of town. However, his sister was home last night. They live in a trailer park. Cheap trailer too. Joslin’s bedroom doesn’t even have a window. Two doors out: kitchen and living room. Gotta go through the living room to access either. Guess where the sister and her boyfriend slept last night?”
Parker cleared his throat. “In the living room?”
“Winner, winner, chicken dinner,” Conch said, rubbing his eyebrow.
“Yep. They slept on the floor. Sister says her brother would’ve had to walk past them to go out the front door and he didn’t. Boyfriend’s gym bag and shoes were up against the front door just like they had been the night before. The boyfriend, one Andrew Holloway, confirms it all.”
“So… we got nothing.” Kendall sighed.
“Nothing yet.” Conch sighed back. “Then there’s Matt Barnes.”
He told Parker and Kendall about what he’d stumbled upon, the dresses and the pink poodle, and once they were all done laughing again, the room grew quiet.
Parker waited. It was only a matter of time. He didn’t have to wait long.
Conch looked at Parker. “So, twinkle toes, that bring us to you.”
On the desk next to Parker lay Sheriff Conch’s business card with the hole burned through it. Parker had insisted on seeing it the moment he’d arrived, and the sheriff, eying him warily, had reluctantly agreed. It’d only been about an hour ago, and Parker had clammed up almost immediately, a deep feeling of eeriness falling over him.
Despite the discussion of possible witnesses or suspe
cts in the Ashley Barton disappearance, and the friendly banter that had just ensued, he still felt creeped out. He’d suffered flashbacks of the dead man and the angel from the highway accident on the entire drive here, and then once he saw Conch’s business card, at some level he must have gone into some sort of shock.
He glanced again at the business card. Unbelievable.
An old clock in the corner was ticking away. He could feel both men staring at him.
Parker took a deep breath, and then exhaled. “Okay. I came here for one reason, really.”
“Yeah?” Kendall said.
Parker stood and looked down at the card on the desk as he reached into the pocket of his bomber jacket. “Sheriff. You were concerned about this card you found at the possible crime scene, right?”
“Yeah. What about it?”
From his jacket, Parker pulled out his own business card that Napoleon had picked up and handed to him when they were on the boardwalk in Monterey. It was burned through the middle in much the same way.
Conch stood and walked over to the desk as Kendall crossed the room to do the same.
Side by side, except for the names and agencies, the cards looked nearly identical.
“What the… ?” Kendall began before trailing off.
“When my partner and I tracked Fasano all the way to Monterey? We spoke to a guy. Tall. Blond. Skinny. I handed him my card before he sent us on a goose chase. When we came back to get some answers as to why, he was gone. All we found was this, on the ground.”
Conch squinted at him, and Parker had that feeling a man got when he was being measured by another man. For substance. For character. It was the look a good coach gave you right before he either put you in the game or sent you to the bench.
“So what’re you saying?” Conch asked.
“I’m not saying anything. All I can tell you is that pretty much right after we found this card?” Parker replied, remembering Napoleon’s face as he shook his head. “Everything went straight to hell.”
A Million to One: (The Millionth Trilogy Book 2) Page 12
