Pink Neon

by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

  When Michael turned into his mother’s drive, Luz stood in the open front door, a sentinel on watch. Her serious expression didn’t lighten when they approached but she stepped back so they could enter. “Daniel’s on his way, then?” she said.

  “Yes,” Michael said.

  “Are you going home today as planned?”

  “No, Daniel asked me to stay until he returns,” Michael replied. “I’ve got the time so I told him I would, to help you and Cecily with anything you need.”

  “Good,” Luz replied. “I made a list for the supermarket, some things I need. It’s on the kitchen counter with some money. Could you go now?”

  Michael’s eyes widened and Cecily understood why. Luz’s tone sounded crisper than burned bacon. “Sure, I can. Cecily, would you like to come too?”

  Before she could open her mouth to answer, Luz spoke. “No, I need to talk to her. She’s staying, you’re going. Hasta la vista, mi hijo.”

  His mouth dropped open. “Mama, is something wrong?”

  “No,” she said, her blue eyes blazing with electricity. “But there will be if I don’t talk with Cecily. Go on, son.”

  His expression changed and he resembled Daniel more than Cecily thought he could. Without another word he hustled into the kitchen, retrieved the list, and headed back out the front door. Luz sank into her recliner and motioned for Cecily to sit on the couch. She did and they sat without speaking until the sound of Michael’s truck faded into the distance.

  Luz turned her piercing gaze toward Cecily. She appeared to be fierce but not angry. “So, now, we talk. I think maybe you know what about.”

  Consumed with fatigue, nerves frizzled, and nursing an upset stomach Cecily met the older woman’s eyes without flinching. “Daniel.”

  “Si,” Luz said. “He’s heading into danger, maybe even death but I don’t think I’m wrong to say you feel it too. You look as worried as I am, maybe even more. I know you’re together but you love him, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I do,” Cecily said with some of her normal bravado. “And, I have a bad feeling. I even had something like a vision at the airport.”

  “And you had a nightmare last night before the phone call.”

  “I did,” she replied. She hated to even think about the awful, jumbled images. Remembering brought cold chills.

  “So we have to change what can happen, together.” Luz’s voice carried a quiet calm but beneath it, Cecily sensed a raw, basic fear. “You know what you have to do, don’t you?”

  Her own anxiety notched up from simple to complex, from low level to high alert. “No,” she said in a choked whisper. “I don’t. I hoped maybe you could tell me.”

  Luz sat up straighter and leaned forward. “You need to go to him, to Daniel. You have to be there. It’s got to be you.”

  Icy tingles moved down her spine. “I wanted to go with him but he said to stay here.”

  “I know. He had to go alone and so do you. If you don’t, I’m not sure how everything will happen but it won’t be good, not for your cousin and not for my son.”

  Cecily believed it. Terrible truth resonated through her body. “I’ll go. I’d do anything for him.”

  “I know,” Luz said and tapped the center of her chest. “I knew it here when I saw you.”

  As willing as she was to go, the logistics seemed difficult. “How will I get there in time when he left so much earlier than I can?”

  Blue eyes, hard as sapphires, stared. “You used to travel a lot, didn’t you, when you were a rich man’s wife?”

  She had – but someone usually handled all the arrangements. Most of the time, Johnson Hamilton, evil asshole, had. “Yes but I didn’t book the flights. I can go online, I guess, and try.”

  “It’s done,” Luz said. “I may not be educated and I’ve never been rich but I booked you a flight direct to Chicago, then another to Branson airport. You’ll arrive in Branson two hours after Daniel reaches Springfield but it seems like he’ll have to drive to get there. You’ll be a few miles from your store and you’ll make it in time.”

  Amazed at the woman’s confident handling of the situation and calm presentation, Cecily gaped, stunned speechless. Not only were she and Luz agreed action must be necessary, Luz set everything into motion. The faint hope she’d felt when she tapped into Daniel’s consciousness or believed she did expanded and grew. “So when do I leave?”

  “Soon as Michael returns to drive you to the airport,” Luz replied. “It wasn’t much of a list. There’s something else you need to know.”

  “What is it?” Cecily found her feet and stood up.

  “My Comanche grandmother gave me a knife a long time ago, when I was a child,” Luz said. “It was old then, handed down from one generation to another in our family. I gave it to Daniel when he first became an FBI agent. He should still have it and I think it’s with his stuff in Branson, maybe at your house. The handle is made of a deer’s antler and the blade is stone, flint-knapped. Before you go to your shop, you need to go get it. Do you know the knife I’m talking about?”

  I remember it. I saw it in his bag along with his tequila and other stuff. “Yes,” Cecily said, swallowing around a hard lump in her throat and pulling the words out of the tight concrete of her chest. “I do. But what do I do with it?”

  “You’ll know when it’s time,” Luz said.

  “But you know now?” It didn’t seem fair if she did.

  Luz’s dark bun moved as she shook her head. “No, I don’t but they do.”

  Almost afraid to ask, she did anyway. “Who are they?”

  Daniel’s mom shrugged. “The spirits,” she said. “The ancestors or the dead, whatever you want to call them – it’s the same no matter what name you use.”

  Their eyes met and held in silent communication. The unmistakable sound of a truck’s engine spoiled the quiet. “Go get whatever you need to take with you,” Luz told Cecily. “Michael’s back and I’ll have him drive you to the airport in just a minute.”

  Uncertain what to take, what to leave she changed clothes and grabbed her purse. Cecily tucked her phone into the bag and returned to the living room. Luz shooed her out the door and just as she climbed into the truck, the woman called her name.

  Cecily turned back. “What is it?”

  “When Daniel calls, don’t tell him you’re on the way. He mustn’t know or he’ll lose focus. And, chica?”

  “Yeah?”

  “My son loves you very much and he can’t afford a broken heart if he lives so be careful.”

  She nodded, unable to say anything and held back the knot of tears balled up in her throat until her plane ascended into the bright, clear skies about El Paso. Cecily didn’t look down or back as she wept and saw nothing but sunshine through her tears.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Walking away from Cecily proved to be difficult, one of the hardest things he’d ever done but Daniel did so with cold, steel in his step. He didn’t look back at her – if he had, he would’ve been tempted to take one more kiss or hold her again and he couldn’t. His head throbbed with a tension headache and he felt like shit warmed over. Although Daniel refused to acknowledge to anyone and to himself only in extreme circumstances, he possessed a faint inkling of his mother’s intuition. Dark, dire possibilities tormented his consciousness but he refused to consider any other action. No matter what happened to him, he had to take Johnson Hamilton out of the equation to protect Cecily. As long as he could accomplish that task, he would accept any fate.

  Once in the air, he started to call her and then stopped dialing. So much to say but he’d said it all and repeating it might cause heartaches. Instead, he dug out some ibuprofen and washed them down. I’ll call her when I get to Dallas. Between, he needed to form a plan and as much as he hated it, he needed to call Martin. When the tablets eased some of his headache, he pulled out the cell he’d bought in Branson. From memory he dialed Special Agent In Charge Martin’s number and waited.

  “It’s
about god damn I heard from you,” Andrew Martin growled into the phone without bothering with a greeting. “I thought you went fucking AWOL. Where in the hell are you and please tell me you’re bringing the woman in.”

  He’d expected the harsh response so it didn’t sting much. In a calm, deliberate voice Daniel replied, “Which question do you want me to answer first?”

  “I don’t care as long as I get answers.”

  “Okay,” Daniel said. “I’m not AWOL, I’m on my way back into Branson, and Cecily isn’t with me. Good enough?”

  “Hell, no!” The irritation in Martin’s voice came through with clarity. “If you want to keep your career with the bureau, you’d better stop dancing around and tell me what the hell’s going on with you.”

  Holy shit, time to tell the truth and shame the devil, he thought as he inhaled a few slow, deep breaths. “Cecily Brown’s innocent,” he told his boss. “She didn’t kill her ex-husband or have anything to do with the crime. And she didn’t take anything out of the safe.”

  “Let me guess,” Martin said, voice thick with sarcasm. “I suppose she told you so?”

  Anger almost won but Daniel checked his tongue until he could answer without heat. “Listen, you have to reason to believe me or Cecily but it’s not what you think.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  This time, he couldn’t contain some rage. “Look, asshole, Cecily’s cousin’s been taken hostage by the son-of-a-bitch who iced Bradford and robbed the safe. He took jewels and cash. He came hunting Cecily because she’s the one person who could point a finger in his direction. I’m headed for Branson hoping to nail him before he kills Nia.”

  After a long pause, time enough to count past ten, Martin said, his tone much different. “Wait, you’re telling me there’s a suspect? A viable one? Who is he?”

  “His name’s Johnson Hamilton. He was Bradford’s personal assistant with access and knowledge to the safe, to the house, all of it. And he had a vendetta going against Cecily,” Daniel said. He kept what he knew as concise as possible. “Hamilton tracked Cecily to Branson and found her cousin instead. He called this morning, wanted Cecily to show up or he kills Nia.”

  “Wait a minute – you heard this call yourself?”

  “Damned straight I did,” Daniel said. “And he admitted to killing Bradford.”

  “So why in hell isn’t this Brown woman with you? Isn’t she supposed to be the bait to draw the un-sub out?”

  “If he gets to her, he’ll kill her.”

  “Aren’t you there to stop it?”

  In a voice as low as a bass rumble, Daniel said, “I’m not taking the chance, Martin. I called you so maybe you could put a team together. Maybe send me some agents out of Springfield or at least some local cops so I won’t go in with my balls in one hand, my gun in the other.”

  “You assume a lot for a rogue agent,” Martin replied but without heat. Daniel knew the man well enough he thought he heard a little admiration. “You’re risking it, without the woman but I suppose you know that, Padilla?”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  A bitter-flavored chuckle came over the airwaves. “Just tell me one thing. Is she worth it?”

  “Yes,” Daniel said without hesitation. “She is.”

  “Damn,” Martin barked. “All right, then. So, get to Branson but don’t go in without back up. I’ll need to know time, place, and all the details but I’ll get something set up. You’re going to need proof to nail the bastard, Padilla.”

  “I’ll get it,” Daniel said. “I’ll call when I hit Branson.”

  He ended the call and leaned back in the seat. Now he needed to hear Cecily’s voice but he wanted to talk to his mama too. He dialed her number and Luz answered almost before it rang.

  “Mi hijo,” she said. “Are you in Dallas yet?”

  “No, I’m still in the air. Everything okay there?”

  “So far, it’s good,” Luz replied.

  “Let me talk to Cecily.”

  “She’s not here,” his mother said. “I sent her somewhere with Michael. Call her cell phone if you can’t wait.”

  Something’s not right. He felt it, deep in his bones like the ache of arthritis. “Mama, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Luz said, just a little too quickly.

  “Is she sick?”

  “No, she’s not. Cecily’s fine,” his mother said. “Are you all right?”

  Not by a long damn shot but he didn’t care to share at the moment. “Si, why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You sound strange. Vaya con Dios, mi hijo. Be careful and call me when it’s over.”

  “Mama?”

  “I’ll talk to you later, Daniel.”

  Disconcerted by the call, he called Cecily. Her phone rang several times and he expected to reach voice mail. Nervous and more than a little worried, he fidgeted but she picked up at the last moment, breathless. “Hello?”

  “Querida, it’s me.”

  “Oh, sugar,” she replied with warmth. “I’m glad to hear your voice. Where are you?”

  “Almost to Dallas, I think,” he said. “How are you?”

  Her soft laughter eased some of his concerns. “I’m good, better than I was early this morning.”

  “I’m glad,” he told her and meant it. “So where are you?”

  “What?”

  “I asked where you are? Mama said she sent you somewhere with Michael.”

  Static rattled between them and her voice faded. “Yeah, she did, sugar.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “With Michael,” Cecily replied. “Sugar, I love you.”

  Damn, he was about to be dismissed like a grade school student. “You know I love you too. Cecily, what’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” she answered, her tone the same as his mom’s had been, too fast and a little too smooth. “Don’t worry. I’ve gotta go. Call me later, okay?”

  His temper spiked and his voice sharpened. “Damn it, Cecily, talk to me! I know you’re not telling me something. What is it? Are you sick?”

  “My tummy’s calmed down, almost,” she said. “I can’t hear you very well. Hugs and kisses till I see you again and be careful.”

  With that, she hung up. Silence replaced her voice and he missed it. And somewhere within he suspected things just went awry but he couldn’t pinpoint it. I’d like to know what in the hell is going down. ‘Bout the last thing I need is to worry what’s shaking back at home but something’s up. I’ll call her again in Dallas and she’d better have answers or I’ll be tempted to head back to El Paso with speed. But even as he thought it, Daniel knew he couldn’t, not when Nia’s life hung in the balance, Cecily’s too. He had no choice but to take care of business – at any cost.

  ****

  Lies weren’t something she did well and she knew it. Telling Daniel anything but the truth stung but she didn’t have a choice. If he had any idea I was on a plane, destination Branson, he’d hunt me down and tie me to a chair. Then he’d send me home. Guilt rippled across her midsection coupled with some lingering nausea. If she ate anything, she’d puke so she didn’t. Instead Cecily sipped a Sprite and sighed. All she wanted was to get it over and go home, back to El Paso or to her house, anywhere with Daniel. She sought closure and to keep her lover safe. If she had both, she might be able to breathe again. And live and love.

  Unable to relax with her nerves jazzed up, the flight stretched out long and tedious. Daniel phoned again and they talked in a brief but garbled conversation because this time the interference was genuine. By the time her plane circled above Chicago, above the familiar sights of her hometown, Cecily couldn’t decide if her body revved up for fight or flight. Fear gnawed at her but she also experienced a restless desire to kick ass. Below her hometown stretched out, still the brawling giant Carl Sandburg wrote about but grown even larger. Although she’d been a lifelong resident until she headed for Branson to start over, Chicago seemed strange and unfamiliar. Feeling more like a tourist than a homie, Cecily
stared down with an odd sense of finality. This is the past, future’s straight ahead.

  She lacked any desire to leave O’Hare, not to see the old neighborhood or cruise by the Canal Street house or any other sites and lacked time if she had. Cecily raced through the airport to catch the connecting flight to Branson and made it. Unlike Daniel down in Texas, she didn’t have a long layover. Before she had time to acclimate to earth, Cecily found herself hurtling through the sky once again, this time toward her destination. En route she didn’t gaze out into the clouds or nap or read. She focused on what she would do when she reached Branson. Cecily mapped out each step, each action right up until she showed up at Pink Neon. Right now, she had no clue what to do or what would happen but she would wing it. She rehearsed what she’d do in her mind until she had it down. Then she indulged in a memory, one to help her draw on her inner strength and remember what she possessed, strength, courage, and sass.

  When she was ten, she got her first watch, a character Timex designed for kids. Cecily adored it and wore it everywhere. She checked the time every five minutes and managed to show it off to anyone who glanced her way. It wasn’t like she didn’t know some of the other kids at the elementary school envied it – she knew but she didn’t care. Truth was, she’d gone out of her way to rub their noses in her pretty timepiece.

  After morning recess, the teachers herded all the girls in the fifth grade into the restroom to use the facility and wash their hands before coming back to class. The operation always took awhile and everyone had to wait in line. Cecily happened to be one of the last stragglers and when she came out of the stall, Tawni Davis got in her way. “Move,” Cecily said.

  “Not until you give me your watch,” Tawni returned. “I want it.”

  “No.” Cecily wasn’t handing it over to anyone, especially not Tawni. She and the other girl didn’t get along and they’d fussed before. “Get out of my way.”

  Cecily started toward the sinks to wash her hands but Tawni blocked her. “Give me the fuckin’ watch.”

  “No, bitch.”

  Tawni tried to snatch it from Cecily’s wrist so she slapped the little bitch. Tawni responded by grabbing Cecily’s hair and yanking hard enough to hurt. They wrestled and tussled but Cecily didn’t yield. They ended up the last two in the restroom and headed off to class, panting, clothes awry, cheeks marked with pink slap marks.