by L. T. Vargus
ACL. MCL. Meniscus. He shredded all of it. The doctors in Columbus said the bone bruising was the worst they’d ever seen.
When he made it back onto the field his senior year, he’d lost a step. Maybe a step and a half. He still had a decent season — rushed for 1,457 yards and took 3 more kicks back for scores, but a lot of it was grit and effort now rather than sheer quickness and speed. He’d been reduced from greatness to merely very good by small school standards.
Not scholarship material. Not even close. One Division II school in Indiana wanted him to walk on. They sent him recruiting letters right up until they got a look at his transcripts, and then that door closed as well.
But he’d gotten his glimpse. He’d seen the open doors, and he knew what was possible. Football was over for him, but he knew some guys on the police force. He knew he could make detective in time. Only a few years, maybe, if everything went well. He’d juggled night classes at the Rio Grande Community College in Pomeroy for his first three years in law enforcement. Got a two-year degree in criminal justice, and now it was a matter of time before he worked his way up the chain. He’d make detective soon enough, maybe not in the APD, but somewhere local. Maybe even within the next year, he thought.
He lifted a styrofoam coffee cup to his lips and spit tobacco juice into it, looked across the street where the shadows encroached on the Home of the Whopper. Nothing over there moved.
Chapter 12
Thanks to the beer, Violet fell asleep easier than usual. She did not dream, or if she did, she retained no memories. It was just as well, really. More often than not, her dreams turned dark these days. If they weren’t outright nightmares and flashbacks, then they were filled with sadness or a sense of dread. She longed for the anxiety dreams of her youth, when her angst could be boiled down to a perpetually forgotten locker combination. Or realizing she had a test in a class she’d never been to.
It was still fairly early when she woke. A few minutes past 7 AM according to the bedside clock. Sierra snored from the next bed, and a thin band of golden morning light spilled through the gap between the blackout curtains.
The bathroom door rattled as Violet pulled it closed behind her, and she squinted through pinched eyelids when the overhead lights flickered to life. She spread a glob of toothpaste on the end of her toothbrush and set about whisking away the stale taste of morningbreath. In the reflection of the mirror, Darger noted the towel hanging over the shower. Right. She’d need to go get some fresh towels from the front desk before she jumped in.
Back in the room, Darger slipped her blazer over the thin cotton t-shirt she’d slept in. Sierra had rolled over, no longer snoring. Gripping the keys in such a way to keep them from rattling together, Darger tiptoed across the room and out the door. There was a humid chill in the morning air, and it smelled of dew and cut grass. Darger inhaled deeply. It was going to be a good day. She’d talk to Loshak, tell him what she’d learned, and they’d put together a game plan. She wondered if they should alert the media, tell them that people should be wary of accepting rides from strangers in dark sedans.
But first, she needed that shower. The front desk attendant reminded Darger not to forget about the free Continental breakfast offerings as she handed over a fresh set of towels. Darger grabbed two juice boxes and two blueberry muffins on her way back to her room. She tried to be as quiet as possible re-entering the room. She set the food on the table beside the door and lowered the key ring gently. A little smile played on her face when she thought of how she’d been worried to leave Sierra in the car with the keys the previous morning. And now that she’d spent some time with her, Violet didn’t think Sierra had taken the tip from the diner table, either. She’d prejudged her, jumped to conclusions, just like everyone else.
Shampoo lathered into a white froth atop Darger’s head. She rinsed the suds and then applied conditioner. And to think that Deputy Donaldson wanted to write Sierra off as a liar. What a mistake that would have been. This could be a big break for them. For the case. She wondered how many killers got away because of the shortsightedness and bias of the local law enforcement. A shame, really.
The tub handles squeaked as she turned the water off. Darger pushed the shower curtain aside and steam billowed out into the open air of the rest of the bathroom. She wrapped a towel around her head and got dressed.
After drying her hair and applying a bit of makeup, Darger flipped off the bathroom light and opened the door. The room felt a little cold after standing in the post-shower humidity for so long, but Darger barely noticed.
What she did notice was that both beds were now empty.
She took a step forward. Probably Sierra was off to one corner, looking for a bit of extra privacy while she got dressed. Darger leaned around the wall. No Sierra. No nothing.
“Sierra?” she said, stupidly.
She knew she was alone. She could feel it.
That was when her eyes noted that her purse was on the end of her bed. Violet didn’t remember putting it there… knew she hadn’t put it there, in fact. The bag was tipped on its side, a packet of travel-sized tissues and a tin of breath mints pulled out.
Maybe Sierra had needed a tissue?
Sure. But there was a box on the nightstand.
Well, she just hadn’t seen it. Right?
Darger’s eyes darted over to the table near the door. Her keys were gone. She lurched forward, then stopped.
Wait. Slow down. She could have run out to get a change of clothes or something else from the car. Sierra would have checked the purse for the keys before she spotted them on the table. It was fine. Everything was fine.
Violet forced herself to walk slowly to the window. One hand lifted the drapes out of the way so she could get an unobstructed view of the parking lot below. When she saw the empty parking space where her Camry had been, her head fell forward, clunking against the glass.
The smooth surface was cool on her shower-warmed skin.
“Shit.”
Chapter 13
She waited, giving Sierra a chance to… what? Change her mind? To prove once and for all that Darger was just as prejudicial as the local cops when Sierra poked her head back into the room with fresh coffee? Right, she’d only popped out to grab something better than the swill offered with the continental breakfast in the lobby. Maybe she’d grab them both Egg McMuffins, too.
That would explain the missing cash. Sierra didn’t have any money. They both knew that. She’d probably figured they’d both go out and grab something to eat after Violet got out of the shower anyway. Might as well save a trip and have breakfast waiting. A small gesture of thanks.
Except that she’d emptied all the cash from Violet’s wallet, almost $200. That was a shitload of Egg McMuffins.
Violet knew she was kidding herself, of course. Sierra wasn’t coming back.
Keys, car, and cash. Violet wondered what else was missing.
She had a spare key for the room at least. She supposed that was standard for a double room, even though she’d specified one occupant when she checked in. Probably they’d charge her some kind of “lost key” fee if she didn’t turn both in at check out. Part of the whole scam. How many people lost a key during their stay, forgetting there had even been two in the first place?
In any case, at least it was one thing she didn’t have to worry about.
A sudden panic overtook her, and her hands fluttered into her pockets and over her person. When she felt the prickle at her chest, she exhaled. For a moment, she’d worried Sierra had stolen the hedgehog brooch. Violet held her hand over the small pin for a while, taking comfort in its presence.
Eventually, she could put it off no longer. She walked down the catwalk and knocked on Loshak’s door.
There was no answer.
She knocked again, louder this time.
“Loshak. It’s Darger.”
Leaning over the railing, she double-checked that Loshak’s car was still in the lot. It was.
After
a third fruitless attempt at knocking, she went down to the office.
The motel employee jammed the key into the slot, turned the lock, and opened the door. The privacy chain hadn’t been engaged, so when she turned the knob, the door swung all the way open, a wedge of sunlight piercing the gloom.
“Loshak?”
Expecting further unresponsiveness, both women started a bit when he shook himself awake and sat upright in the bed.
“Whaddafuck?”
Darger let out a breath.
“So you are alive. That’s good, at least.”
She turned to the girl from the motel lobby.
“I’ll take it from here. Thank you.”
The girl headed back for the front office, leaving Darger alone on the threshold.
Loshak swiped a paw at his eyes. He looked even worse than he had two days ago. Face puffy, eyes bloodshot, with dark rings underneath.
“How’d you get in here?”
“I knocked. About a dozen times. You didn’t answer, and all things considered, I thought I should make sure you weren’t dead.”
He grumbled something unintelligible.
“Did you even leave your room yesterday?”
Instead of answering, he squinted at the clock.
“What day is it?”
“Christ. When was the last time you ate something?”
Loshak ran a hand through his disheveled hair.
“I don’t remember.”
“Hold on a minute.”
She ducked outside and left Loshak sitting in bed, rubbing at his face and likely still wondering what the hell was going on.
Darger returned a few moments later with one of the juice boxes and muffins she’d grabbed from the breakfast spread earlier.
“Here,” she said, setting the food on the night table.
“You never answered my question. How the hell did you get in here?”
Violet paced back and forth in the narrow path between the beds and the dresser.
“The girl in the front office let me in.”
“Oh. Lovely. So anyone can waltz in and get access to my room with a Please and Thank you. That’s cute. Real nice privacy policy they got here.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Don’t worry. She said no at first, but I flashed my badge and told them it was official FBI business.”
He picked up the muffin, started to unwrap it, then set it back down. Instead, he lifted the box of apple juice and stabbed the straw through the top.
“You pull that kind of crap often enough, and word’ll get back to the higher-ups. Believe me, they love nothing more than writing people up for the little things.”
“Jesus. It was for your benefit, not mine. I was worried you might have died in here,” she said.
“Uh-huh. So why do you look like a house cat that just spotted a bird on the other side of the window?”
“What?”
He waved a hand at her.
“You’re all keyed up. Pacing around like a caged beast.”
She halted, falling back into a chair against the wall, started to pick at her nails, and stopped herself.
“Well, we do have a little problem.”
“Oh?”
She made eye contact with Loshak briefly but broke it in favor of staring at her boots while she spoke.
“I went to talk to the Peters girl. And things actually went well. She told me everything.”
Between sips of apple juice, Loshak glanced up at her.
“Yeah… and? How’s this a problem? Sounds like good news to me.”
Darger had an urge to cover her face with her hands. Like maybe if she had something to hide behind, it would make it easier to say. She forced herself to sit up straight. She would walk tall and proud to the firing squad. But even with all of her noble intent, her voice pronounced the words barely above a murmur.
“She stole my car.”
Loshak practically spat out the mouthful of juice.
“Pardon?”
“The Peters girl stole my car.”
Loshak’s lips pulled into a strange grimace, and it was a moment before she realized that he was trying his damnedest not to smile.
“And how did you manage that?”
“How is this my fault? Like I’m supposed to know she’s dumb enough to steal from a federal agent. Everything was going fine. Great, actually. I think you’ll be very interested in hearing what she told me, but…”
“But she stole your car.”
Violet grunted.
“And all the cash I had in my wallet.”
Loshak finally lost his composure and started to laugh. If she was honest with herself, there was a tiny part of her that wanted to laugh, too. If it had been someone else, she imagined she would have found it highly amusing. But it wasn’t someone else. It was her.
That lump was back in her throat. After the time she’d spent with Sierra, Violet had actually come to feel an affection for her. It was something she thought was mutual. Violet didn’t really care about the money, and the car wasn’t even hers. What bothered her was the betrayal. That’s what it felt like, anyway.
“Are you done?” she asked.
Loshak wiped tears from his cheeks and let out one last chuckle.
“Phew. You know I think I’m starting to feel a little better.”
The smile faded, replaced by a more sober expression.
“You didn’t leave your gun in the car, did you? That’s a letter of censure right there.”
“No,” she said. “I’m not a complete idiot.”
“And I assume you’ve reported the theft?”
“Not yet.”
“Better call it in,” Loshak said. “Given her familiarity with the local authorities, I’d bet they have a pretty good idea of where she might be. They’ll probably be kind enough to keep it off the books, you know, to avoid any embarrassment. On your part, of course. But they’ll still give you hell for it.”
“Oh goody,” she muttered as she got out her phone.
The tires of Loshak’s car bumped over the lines of tar marking several years’ worth of road repairs.
Damn Loshak if he hadn’t been right. When she got Deputy Donaldson on the phone (her luck that it couldn’t have been any other deputy), he managed a bit more self-control than Loshak. He didn’t have to set down the phone to compose himself after rolling on the floor in laughter, at least. But the smirk on his face still came over the line loud and clear. As did the implicit tone of “I told you so,” though he never uttered the actual words.
“I’ll have someone swing by her former residence, though she’d be awful stupid to go back there… then again, she’s awful stupid to steal from a fed, so…”
“I was actually thinking I’d go check on my own if you don’t mind,” Darger said. “And if one of your guys happens to find her before I do, could you give me a call and maybe let me handle it? I’m not pressing charges. We need her on our side.”
“You still think so? Even after this?”
“Yes,” she said, though she’d started to doubt things a little.
“Well, I don’t mind telling you that I think you’re letting this girl take you for a ride. Literally.”
This play on words finally got a legitimate chuckle out of him.
Violet was halfway to Sierra’s last known address when it suddenly occurred to her that she was headed in the wrong direction. If she were an addict suddenly in possession of two hundred bucks, she wouldn’t go home.
She’d go to her dealer.
Chapter 14
The rhythmic rumble of a bass line rattled the screen door on the front of the little bungalow. Darger felt the boom of it in her ribcage as she lifted her fist to knock on the door. Someone had the subwoofer on their stereo cranked to eleven, and she had a pretty good feeling that someone was named Jimmy.
The interior door opened, just wide enough for a man’s face to peep out at her.
“Who’re you?”
&
nbsp; Gaunt lines ran down from high cheekbones. He wore a black beanie and a single tuft of facial hair jutting out from below his bottom lip.
Violet did her best to seem unimposing.
“Is Sierra here?”
Cold eyes the color of hammered steel looked her up and down.
“Nope,” he said and started to close the door on her.
She pushed back on the door with the palm of her hand.
“Wait!”
He paused with the door open a crack, peering through at her with flared nostrils.
“Please, I’m her sister,” Violet said. “I’m really worried about her.”
A slow smirk spread over his face. It did not touch his eyes. He cupped his hand to his mouth and whistled. It was so jarring that her hand flicked under her jacket, her palm resting on the butt of her Glock in its holster, ready to draw.
Nothing happened for a beat, and then, from a window about three feet from where Violet stood, she heard a toilet flush. She understood at once.
“Sierra don’t have a sister.”
“Stepsister,” she said, barely bothering to sound convincing at this point. “What does it matter? Will you please have her come to the door?”
“I already told you. She ain’t here.”
Violet sighed. She pointed at the Camry parked on the street.
“You see that car?”
He gave a nod, careful to look bored as he did so.
“That’s my car. Sierra st—” she stopped herself from saying stole. “Sierra took it. So I know she’s here.”
“Listen, lady cop. Your stepsister story is real cute, but I ain’t buying. But all that is like, moot, or whatever, because like I said: Sierra. Ain’t. Here.”
With a roll of her eyes, Darger pulled her badge from her jacket. The toilet flushed again.
“I’m not a cop. FBI.”
“Even better.”
“Alright, look. Tell her she’s not in trouble. No one here is in trouble. I just need to talk to her. She doesn’t even have to come outside. I’ll stay on this side, and she can stay on that side.”
