The District

by Carol Ericson

  “I know. It’s silly.” To prove her point, she grabbed the bottle and twisted off the cap.

  “A twist cap? Only the best, huh?”

  She turned the bottle in her hand and studied the dark blue label. “It’s actually a decent chardonnay from a good little winery in Sonoma—not that I would know one from the other.”

  “Of course not. Leave a little in the bottle for me. I’d like to try it.”

  She poured most of the golden liquid into the plastic cup, leaving a gulp for Eric.

  “Here you go.” She handed him the bottle through the steam, and it promptly beaded up with moisture.

  He took it and tipped the neck toward her. “Here’s to finding our guy.”

  “To finding our guy.” She tapped the rim of her cup with the bottle and took a sip. The cool liquid ran down her throat, contrasting with the heat on her skin, made hotter by the man lounging across from her. “There is one hot tub rule I have to ask you to follow.”

  “What’s that? No nudity?”

  His grin melted her insides even more, and she splashed him. “That goes without saying. Those are the hotel rules, anyway. This is my personal rule for hot tub time.”

  “I’m listening.” He wrapped his lips around the bottle and tipped his head back.

  “No shoptalk. This is time to relax, not rehash.”

  “You got it.” He touched the bottle to his forehead, and then aimed it at her chest. “You used to favor bikinis. What happened?”

  She smothered a cough and almost snorted wine out of her nose. “I always like a one-piece at the hotel pools. Stays on better when I want to do a little swimming.”

  She’d just started feeling comfortable in a bikini after her pregnancy and giving birth to Kendall, but she couldn’t explain that to Eric. This craziness had to stop. She couldn’t continue to work with him and keep the most important part of her life a secret.

  “Yeah, I guess I remember you always did wear a one-piece in the ocean.”

  She took another sip of wine and cupped its sweetness on her tongue before swallowing it. Was it time to get personal? “So you never came back to the city after South America?”

  “They sent me to D.C. I’ve been homebasing it there.”

  “Do you miss the city? Your brothers?”

  “Yes and sort of. I was kind of relieved when I found out Sean was on an extended vacation. He’s so damned controlling.”

  “At least he’s not a witch.”

  “Yeah, he’s got that going for him.” He made a cross over his heart and said, “Not to bring up work, but speaking of siblings, when is the last time you saw your sister Vivi?”

  “About a month ago, but you know what’s funny?”

  “Besides your father being a brujo and your sister being a witch? What?”

  “I had a dream about Vivi a few weeks ago.”

  “Good? Bad?”

  She massaged her temple with her fingertips. “It just came to me. I had forgotten all about it.”

  “Do you remember what it was about?”

  He had stretched out his legs and wedged his feet against her seat, too close to her thigh for comfort.

  She scooted over a little. “I don’t remember now. Just Vivi being Vivi, yapping up a storm about something. Maybe she was at the front of a classroom and I was a student. Something like that.”

  “Is she much younger than you? Five years?”

  “About six. I think my father groomed her like he wanted to do with me had my mom allowed it.”

  “I think your mom made a wise decision.”

  “You think I should contact Vivi about this coven stuff, don’t you?” She tucked a few damp tendrils of hair behind her ear.

  He raised his shoulders out of the water. “Couldn’t hurt, could it? Are you two on good terms?”

  “Sure. She’s a crazy kid, but she means well.” Actually, they’d had an argument over Kendall the last time they’d seen each other. Vivi had gotten the nutty idea that they should test Kendall for psychic ability. A baby.

  Of course, she couldn’t reveal any of this to Eric, and if she did contact Vivi she’d have to keep her away from Eric so her sister wouldn’t let the cat out of the bag. Her head began to pound with the thought of keeping her lies straight.

  “I’ll leave it up to you, and I promise I won’t break the rule again, or at least that rule.”

  He pushed up with his arms and his body floated to the right. Shifting into position, he closed his eyes. “Right there. My lower back has been killing me.”

  The jets gurgled as the water shot against his back, and Christina’s fingers tingled as she thought about digging them into his skin to relieve his pain as she’d done so many times before.

  He used to tell her she had magic hands, better than any masseuse or chiropractor, but she knew her ability to relieve his pain had nothing to do with her talents and everything to do with love. Because she’d loved this man with every fiber of her being.

  And still did.

  “I have some ibuprofen in my room.”

  “That would help. It’s that old football injury acting up. It was better on my previous assignment because I wasn’t sitting at a desk so much.”

  The couple from the pool were making their way toward the hot tub and Eric murmured under his breath. “Uh-oh. I hate communal hot tubs.”

  The woman put her foot on the first step. “Mind if we join you?”

  “You can have it to yourselves.” Christina stood up and the air caused a rash of goose pimples to rush across her skin. “We were getting ready to leave anyway.”

  Eric rose from the water looking like a Greek god. If that’s the body he got from sitting in a chair too much, she’d like to patent that chair.

  The other woman missed her step and splashed into the hot tub.

  Eric caught her arm. “Careful.”

  She laughed. “Didn’t even see that second step.”

  Christina’s lip curled. Yeah, because you were staring at my man.

  Her possessive feelings toward Eric punched her in the gut. This case was going to take a toll on her in more ways than one. What had Rich been thinking putting the two of them together?

  She bent at the knees to snatch up her cup and then tossed it in the trash can. She toweled off and draped her body in the oversize robe.

  Eric stuffed the wine bottle into the trash and swiped his towel across his back and then flung it over one shoulder. “Ready?”

  “Do you still want that ibuprofen?”

  “Yep. The jets helped but not as much as—other things.”

  Was he thinking about her magic hands? All he had to do was say the word and she’d be all over him.

  She crooked her finger. “Follow me.”

  “Anywhere.”

  They rode up the elevator in silence. Was he struggling as much as she was? And what was his struggle? Trust? Telling him he’d been a father the past two years wouldn’t do much to alleviate that.

  When they reached their rooms, they both swiped their cards.

  He pointed into his room. “I’ll meet you at the secret door.”

  She closed her door and scooped in a deep breath. She needed to delve down for some willpower. She couldn’t start getting cozy with Eric and then drop the A-bomb on him, or in this case, the P-bomb for parenthood.

  She clicked her card down on the credenza and reached for her purse. She dug inside for her little bottle of ibuprofen and pulled out her phone at the same time to charge it.

  The knock on the adjoining door made her almost drop both phone and bottle.

  “Yeah, I got it.” She crossed the room and turned the dead bolt. He’d better use the one on his side, too, since she didn’t trust herself in the middle of th
e night sleeping alone in a cold bed.

  He eased open the door. “Everyone decent?”

  “Nothing you haven’t seen before.” She opened her robe and spread her arms.

  The way his hazel eyes sparked to green as they traveled over her body, made it seem as if he were seeing her for the first time.

  She shook the pills in the bottle, and then tossed it at him. “Here you go.”

  With his quick reflexes, he swiped a hand through the air and caught the bottle with a snap. He thumbed up the lid. “I’m going to steal your water, too, since you already have a bottle open.”

  “My wine, my painkillers, my water. What else are you going to steal from me?”

  Someone banged on her hotel door, and this time she did drop her phone.

  “Wait.” Eric stepped into her room and headed for her door just as the banging started again. He looked through the peephole. He motioned her over. “Do you know this guy?”

  She huddled in next to him and looked through the peephole. She whispered, “No.”

  Once more, the young man with slicked-back black hair pummeled his fists against the door. “Hello? Anyone in there? Christina Sandoval? I’m Vivi’s friend.”

  Christina took a step back, turning wide eyes on Eric and lifting her shoulders.

  “Vivi’s missing, and I’m afraid she might be in danger.”

  Chapter Seven

  Christina swayed, and she clutched on to Eric like a lifeline.

  Eric reached past her and swung open the door. “Who are you?”

  The man jerked back. “I—I’m Darius Cole, Vivi Sandoval’s friend.”

  “How the hell did you know Christina was staying here?”

  The man’s pale skin blanched even further. “She told me. Vivi told me her sister was in the city and staying at this hotel.”

  Eric glanced at her, and she spread her hands. When she talked to Vivi last month, she’d mentioned coming to the city to work and had probably mentioned her hotel. What did it matter now? She brushed past Eric and grabbed Darius’s arm, dragging him into the room. “Tell me what happened. How long has Vivi been missing?”

  “Two weeks.” He jerked out of her grasp. “You’re some kind of cop, right? Vivi told us.”

  “FBI. Have you called the police?”

  “They won’t listen.” Darius made a circle around the room, clenching his hands, his black boots clumping on the floor. “They said she’s an adult and there’s nothing they can do without evidence of foul play, or something like that.”

  “Okay, calm down.”

  Christina squeezed her eyes closed, feeling anything but calm herself, and then Eric was next to her rubbing a circle on her back. She dropped her shoulders and took a deep breath. “Start from the beginning. Is—was Vivi still in Big Sur?”

  “Santa Cruz. We were all staying at Papa Bud’s house.”

  “Papa Bud?” She raised her brows at Eric.

  Darius flicked long white fingers. “He’s just a guy in Santa Cruz, has a big house and everyone’s welcome.”

  “How long have you and Vivi been staying there?”

  “A few months. We’d been working near the boardwalk. I’ve been bartending and Vivi’s been reading the cards, telling fortunes.”

  “Did she say anything before she left? Meet up with anyone? What about this Papa Bud?”

  “Papa Bud’s cool. He’s just as worried as the rest of us.”

  “Was Vivi using drugs there?”

  “Not much, a little weed.” He shrugged. “You know Vivi. She can reach an alternate state all on her own. She doesn’t need any help.”

  “So what were the circumstances of her departure? Did she take her purse, her car?”

  “We didn’t have a car at the time. We hitched a ride down the coast to see some people and then came up to the city where I had my car and were planning to go back down to Santa Cruz. That’s when she took off. She took her purse and one bag.”

  A trickle of relief meandered through her body and she slumped against Eric, whose arm had found its way around her waist. “It sounds to me like she just got tired of Papa Bud’s and telling fortunes on the boardwalk. If you know Vivi, you know she’s always looking for new experiences.”

  He ran his hands through his dark hair, making it stand up even more. “That’s why the cops won’t do anything. They think she just took off on her own.”

  “And you don’t?”

  “She didn’t say anything to anyone. She just stole away in the middle of the night. Why would she do that?” Darius nibbled on a fingernail that he’d painted black.

  She rolled her eyes at Eric. “Did she owe someone money?”

  “No, but she was worried about something.”

  Christina’s pulse ticked up again. “Did she tell you what?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think it had something to do with those murders.”

  “What murders?”

  Eric’s arm tightened around her and she was glad of it.

  “She had newspaper clippings of a murder in San Diego and another one in Portland—one man and one woman.”

  “Did she say anything about them?” Christina licked her lips and shot a sideways glance at Eric.

  “Not much, but she kept the articles and read them so much they became dog-eared. And she seemed frightened. Santa Cruz is pretty laid-back, but she wouldn’t stay at the boardwalk once the sun went down.”

  “Do you know if anyone was stalking or threatening her?”

  “In Santa Cruz?”

  “Look, I know you think Santa Cruz is paradise on earth, but there are a lot of crazies there just like anywhere else. Maybe one of her clients, someone who saw her on the boardwalk started fixating on her or something.”

  “Why wouldn’t she just tell us? And we’d already left the boardwalk. Why take off all secretive like that?”

  “We’re talking about Vivi here. Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “You don’t care about your sister? You don’t want to find her?”

  Christina’s body stiffened and Eric’s hand moved to the back of her neck and squeezed. “Of course I do, but you haven’t given me anything. What do you think happened to her? If someone abducted her, why would she take her purse and pack a bag?”

  “She packed a bag, but she left her most important possessions.”

  “What would that be, her bong?”

  Darius whistled. “Wow, you really are a cop, aren’t you?”

  “Just tell me what she left that was so important to her.”

  “Her tarot cards, her incense, her amulet.”

  “Her amulet?”

  Darius tapped his throat. “A necklace she always wore. Why would she leave that stuff?”

  Eric snapped his fingers and strode across the floor to his own room, calling over his shoulder. “What did Vivi’s necklace look like?”

  “It’s a circle with two wavy lines and then a straight line intersecting the wavy lines.”

  As Darius described the amulet, Eric returned to her room waving the notepaper with the symbol of Liz Fielding’s necklace. “Like this?”

  “Whoa, man. Where’d you get that?” Darius snatched the paper from Eric. “That’s it.”

  Christina covered her mouth with one hand. What did it mean? Was Vivi a member of this coven, too? “I—I’ve never seen her wear that.”

  “Well, she did, all the time, under her clothes. And she left it. Why would she leave that and the other stuff?”

  Because someone is killing off members of her coven.

  “I’m not sure, Darius. Look, just keep me posted. I think Vivi left of her own free will. I don’t think you need to worry.”

  He held the paper back out to Eric. “Y
ou’re not going to tell me where you got that drawing?”

  “FBI business.” Eric shoved the paper into the pocket of his damp trunks.

  Christina took a deep breath. “She’ll probably be in touch later, and I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Here’s my number.” Darius hunched over the nightstand and scribbled on the hotel notepad. “I hope you’re right. She thinks a lot of her big sister.”

  Unexpected moisture pooled in her eyes, and her nose tingled. “I’m sure she’s fine. She probably just wanted a break. Take care of her cards and necklace. Put them away. Put the necklace away. She’ll be back.”

  “You’ll let me know as soon as you find her?” Darius crossed his muscular arms and took a stance like he wasn’t leaving until she agreed.

  “Yes. I’ll let you know.” She held out her hand. “Thanks for coming by and telling me all this.”

  Darius unfolded his arms but didn’t take her hand, leveling a finger at her instead. “Just find her. I think she’s in danger.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Darius stepped toward the door Eric was holding open and shook his hand before he slipped out.

  Christina stared at the closed door.

  “Are you okay?” Eric’s low voice brought her back from an abyss of crazy.

  She turned her head, widened her eyes and sank to the bed. “What do you think is going on? Tell me before I go off the deep end here.”

  “I think,” he murmured, flicking a damp lock of hair from her shoulder, “something or someone was threatening your sister and she decided to hightail it out of Santa Cruz and Papa Bud’s commune. She made a stop in the city with that hippie bodybuilder and then didn’t feel safe, so she took off.”

  “And she left her stuff, the tools of her trade, her witchy accoutrements. Why?” She spread her hands as if hoping to find the answer in the lines crisscrossing her palms.

  “Isn’t it clear? She doesn’t want to be associated with the tools of her trade. She doesn’t want to be identified as a witch.”

  Christina puffed out a breath. “It sounds more sensible when you say it, but that’s exactly what I was thinking.”