She wanted to scream and hit him to force him to feel something, but he had already fallen into a deep slumber, snoring softly beside her. This would have to be a battle for another day—yes, a battle.
She clutched the empty tumbler in her hand. For a second, she debated smashing it over his head to elicit some kind of emotion from him, then decided against it and headed back down to the kitchen. When she did, Tiara ran to her side and began barking.
“What is it, baby?” Brooke asked. For a moment, she faced the sobering realization that this little dog may be the only baby she ever got to call her own.
More barking and running back and forth frantically between Brooke and the back door.
“Okay, I’m coming. Let’s see what it is.” But when she opened the door, no one was there.
Tiara raced out into the yard, not to be deterred.
“Ti, stop!” she shouted, chasing after the wayward pooch.
When finally she caught up with her furry little torpedo, they’d reached the end of the block. Brooke stooped down and picked up a single white rose that lay on the pavement. All of its thorns had been cut off, leaving a smooth stem.
It’s just a pretty flower—a gift—she told herself. Truth be told, its sudden appearance on her street scared her. The constant feeling of being watched, the odd things that kept happening, which on their own were nothing, but put together? She shivered and tried not to go down that particular thought trail. Thinking about Brian’s dismissal, his growing distance, his hot and cold attitude toward all things Brooke—that was more than enough to worry about at the moment.
She scooped up Tiara and placed her in the crook of her arm, twirling the flower in her other hand as she walked back toward the house.
A smooth white petal broke off and drifted toward the ground.
“I leave him,” Brooke said, then plucked off another. “I stay.”
One by one, she tore at the petals, letting the flower decide the fate of her marriage.
When finally she reached the last one, she said, “I leave him” and then returned to the house to pack her bags.
Chapter Twenty
Annabeth
Annabeth sat in her car outside Chez Ramone with her high-powered binoculars in hand. Spying on Jesse’s wife Heather all afternoon had nearly put her to sleep. Watching paint dry would be more entertaining at this point. She nibbled on the inside of her cheek with her back molars, while she watched the other woman collate and staple a stack of papers during her lunch break. According to the company's public records and some records that Marcus hacked out of their system, Heather had an assistant assigned to her. So why didn’t she have her assistant doing this menial task? What was on those papers that she might need to hide from her employee? Those were just a few of the questions that had bubbled to the surface since they had discovered the connection between this particular tech company and the sex ring. A businessman driving a black SUV pulled into the last empty parking spot on the street. Out stepped a man in his early sixties, wearing an Armani suit and designer shoes. She recognized him from the company photo, Julio Escobar, a second generation Cuban, who was appointed CEO six years ago. The man locked his vehicle with his fob and walked directly over to where Heather was sitting.
Tap, tap, tap.
The sound of a nail on her window startled her. Ligia stood in front of the passenger’s side door—coffee cup in hand—tapping on the glass like a woodpecker on crack. Annabeth rolled it down, which Ligia took as an invitation to stick her head in and searched around the car with a questioning glance. Why am I so grumpy? Oh yeah...the whole give up smoking thing… again. Now who’s bright idea had that been? Oh, right...
Ligia opened the door and hopped in. “Hey, Annabeth. Kind of strange seeing you here, but might as well give you a couple updates while I have you.” She plopped herself down into the seat. “So I just got off the phone with the shelter, and they’ve given us the whole legal go ahead to do the event. It sort of helped that I managed to get a few committed challenge grants in place. Can’t say no to money, you know?”
“That’s great.” Annabeth said, only half-listening. The man in Armani walked down the sidewalk and sat down at the table behind Heather.
“Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.” Ligia loudly slurped her iced coffee. “I thought you wanted to help Vi?”
Annabeth took her gaze off Heather for a moment. “Ligia, I do care, but I’m kind of working here.”
Ligia cupped her mouth and her eyes widened. “Ohhh...I was wondering what you were doing just sitting here.” She swiped her phone and pulled up selfie mode—snapping a quick pic of her and Annabeth.
“Ligia...”
The young woman completely ignored her and instead snatched the binoculars from Annabeth’s lap and put them up to her eyes—or as close as her ginormous lashes would allow. “So... who are we spying on?” Annabeth grabbed them from her hands. This chick had no chill.
Think fast! She’s going to draw attention to us. and I can’t afford that right now.
“Ligia, stop!” Her harsh tone startled the young woman and Annabeth instantly felt bad. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I can’t afford for anything else to go wrong with this case. Do you understand?”
She glanced quickly away. “Yes. I’m sorry. I’ll go. I don’t want to make things worse for you like last time. I just thought it could be fun to do something helpful for a change.”
Annabeth reached for her arm to keep her from leaving the car. “Wait. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m just… I’m trying to quit smoking, and it’s making me grouchy, okay? What happened that night at the gala wasn’t your fault. It was all mine. I lost focus and control over the situation.”
“So I can stay?” Ligia seemed to relax. Her shoulders drooped and she wiped at her eyes, then looked back down at her phone.
Annabeth nodded then glanced back around to see that Heather and the mystery man had both gone. Crap, I missed it! The heel of her palms slammed against the steering wheel.
Ligia held up her phone. “Is it okay if I post this on Instagram?”
Annabeth glanced at the photo of them. “Yeah, knock yourself out…” Before she looked away again, she noticed in the far left corner that her selfie happy friend had managed to snap a photo of Heather and the mystery man.
“Let me see that.” She grabbed the phone from her, not waiting for permission. It looked like they were passing something small between them. I wonder what?
“I can retake it, if you don't like how it turned out…”
“Ligia, you are amazing!”
The young woman’s nose scrunched. “Huh? Did I miss something?”
Annabeth cropped the photo and texted it to Marcus. “You helped in a really big way, Ligia. Maybe I should have you help me more often.”
“I knew I would eventually find a way to be useful if I just kept trying.” A pleased smile slid across her face.
“Okay, now that that’s done. I wanted to update you on the event planning.” Ligia took back her phone and started flipping through the photos. “So these are some of the girls who’ve agreed to do the show for Vi.”
Annabeth watched as a sea of beautiful young faces flashed before her eyes. One face in the crowd stood out. A chill ran down her spine. “Who is this?” she asked pointing to the young man in the corner of one of the photos.
“I don’t know. I think he was one of the girl’s brothers or something.” Ligia continued to flip through the photos. “He’s pretty cute for an older guy. Right?”
Annabeth held out her hand. “Can I see it for a second?”
Ligia shrugged and handed it over. “Yeah sure.”
Every photo had him in it, like he had purposely tried to get into them all. His coal black eyes seemed to follow her as she flipped back through them once more.
“What’s wrong, Annabeth?”
Could Fernando’s latest potential victim be a client of Ligia’s beauty pageant company? �
�Are any of the participants foreign? Don’t have family around?”
Ligia’s face paled. “A few of them... Why?”
Annabeth pointed to the man who had photobombed nearly every shot. “This man’s name is Fin, and he is one of the leaders of the sex ring. It was his brother that Brooke shot and killed. That had you… Yeah.”
Ligia’s rose colored cheeks paled as she let out a slow, long sigh. “Maybe my mom’s right. Maybe I should go back to Brazil. She’s been begging me to come home ever since that night.”
Annabeth paused, taking in the girl’s confession. A wave of guilt washed over her. She should have taken care to talk to Ligia about what happened, helped her process the incident. How frightened she must be. Didn’t her godmother talk to her?
“Have you talk to Brooke about any of this?”
Ligia frowned. “No, she’s been so distant lately. She keeps hassling me about the smallest things.”
Annabeth’s phone buzzed with a new message from Marcus.
The photo is of the President of the Company. The man we suspect to be Carlos and Fin’s father. According to the airport logs, the jet is scheduled to take off for Belize tonight. There are some interesting transactions being made overseas.
Annabeth tossed Ligia’s phone back to her and sat back in her seat. She glanced out her front windshield and something caught her eye. A familiar man, leaning against a tree and waving to her like they were old chums. Fin.
Would it be so bad if I just gunned it and ran him over with my car?
Chapter Twenty-One
Vi
Vi stared out the window of the SUV. An awkward silence had fallen between her and Jesse. She couldn’t help but wonder if he regretted offering to take her today. She would rather have him yelling at her than this not talking thing. Fear kept her from inquiring further about her former BFF’s health status. The last thing she wanted was round two of a Jesse lecture about how she was ruining her life and making everyone around her miserable. No, once had been plenty.
Jesse pulled the SUV into the driveway of the home. The right front tire caught a puddle and dirty rain water and mud splashed up against her side of the vehicle. He threw the car in park and pulled up his twitter feed on his phone. “I’ll wait out here today.”
“Oh...okay.” Vi swallowed hard, trying not to cry.
Jesse reached out to stop her from opening the door. “Hang on.” He grabbed his umbrella and hurried around to Vi’s door to help her out. She took his hand and hopped out of the vehicle—narrowly missing a giant puddle. Why won't he at least look at me? The sting of his cold shoulder hurt her more than she was willing to admit.
“Have a good visit with your sister.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his ripped jeans and rushed back into his car. All without even the slightest glance her way.
Vi looked back at him and thought again about what he had said the other night. Brooke had called while she’d been in the shower the other day and she’d missed it. Enough was enough. Maybe Vi should call her...
Her feet made a crunching sound as she carefully navigated the gravel drive—doing her best to avoid the rivets where deep pools of water had formed. She climbed the steps of the porch and shook the rain from the umbrella.
The door opened with a flourish and Joy came running out, almost knocking Vi over with a giant bear hug. Her sister had never been good at personal space and her tight grip caused pain to shoot from her shoulder to the tips of her fingers.
“Joy, you’re hurting me.”
Her sister quickly released her from her death grip and dragged Vi into the home. “Jesse painted my room! Come see! I broke the wall, and he fixed it! Come, Vi, come!”
Vi followed along. It was easier that way. Whenever her sister got something stuck in her mind it was near impossible to redirect her.
The old room, which had been puke green, was now a vibrant sky blue with little puffs of clouds. Oh, Jesse, what have you done? Tears stung the corners of her eyes, and she pressed her lips tightly together.
“You don’t like it, Sissy?”
“What? No, I love it Joy. He did a wonderful job.”
“Miss Kim said crying means you are sad.”
Vi wiped at her eyes. “I’m not crying Joy-Joy. I just have something in my eye.”
Her sister looked at the wall—her flat affect as usual concealing her thoughts and feelings.
Vi sat down on the edge of Joy’s twin bed. “How are you feeling? Is the medicine helping you breathe better?”
Joy continued to stare straight ahead as if she hadn’t heard a word, even though Vi knew she had. “Miss Kim said that the doctor who came to see you was very nice.”
“He had yellow suckers. I like the mystery ones. He said he would bring those next time.”
Vi took a deep breath and leaned against the wall beside the bed. “That’s good,” she said with a half-smile. “Oh, that reminds me—I brought you a special treat.”
“I didn’t wash the dishes this morning. I can’t have a special treat.” Her sister began to pull on a loose string that hung from her worn shirt—the one she wouldn’t let anyone get rid of even though it was threadbare.
Vi took out a bag of fruit snacks out of her pocket—the ones made with natural dyes—and held it in the palm of her hand. “Oh...okay then. I’ll give it to Miss Kim for when you earn your treat.”
Even after nearly thirty years of being Joy’s little sister, she still found herself hoping that she would talk to her like the grown up she was supposed to be. With everything going on, she really needed the wisdom an older sister could offer. Instead, she was sitting in a child-like room talking about earning “chewies,” as Joy called them. A wave of guilt washed over her. It wasn’t Joy’s fault; she did the best she could.
Her sister raised her shirt collar up to her mouth, and Vi tugged on the end so it popped back out. “No.”
“Sissy, why don’t Brooke and Princess Tiara visit anymore?”
A knot in Vi’s stomach tightened. “Brooke and I had a fight.”
“Why? Did you say sorry? Say sorry, Sissy.”
“It’s not that simple.”
Vi rubbed the muscles of her shoulder, which had begun to ache again. She hadn’t brought any pills this time. Her doctor and Jesse had been right; the pills weren’t about her physical pain anymore. She’d been looking for an escape for a long time. The incident at the gala just gave her an out. Her anger and bitterness festered inside of her and needed to be let go like the balloons at church on Resurrection Sunday. Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive others…
“Joy—”
“I want to see Tiara. I can walk her.” Joy’s voice rose with her growing agitation.
Brooke loved her sister. She did. Of that she was certain. She and Tiara could always manage to turn a challenging Joy day into...well, a joyful one. Brooke called herself the Joy-whisperer. Over the years, the fierceness of her friendship and support never wavered—not once. Maybe I do owe her another chance.
“I’ll talk to Brooke,” Vi said as she turned to face her sister. “We’ll see.”
A part of her started to wonder if Brooke would even take her calls. Their current lack of communication—despite Brooke’s overt gestures— no doubt drove her friend banana cakes. No, she needed to think through her words and what she might say...what would she say?
“Call her now!” Her sister’s fist balled up like she was ready to start throwing punches. Once again Joy’s tantrum took Vi hostage.
“Okay. Okay.” Vi sighed and pulled her phone out of her shorts pocket and punched in Brooke’s number. Her raw nerves vibrated. When the voicemail picked up, she took a deep sigh of relief and hung up the phone. “She didn’t answer. I’ll try again later when I get home.”
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
Vi opened the new text message that had come in from a blocked number.
Enjoy your visit with your sister. Don’t worry about anything else. I’ve got it all under contro
l.
An uneasiness settled in the pit of her stomach. Who was this person who kept messaging her, and what did they want? Maybe she should tell Annabeth. Yes, Anna would know what to do. She forwarded the message to her PI neighbor.
I’ve been getting these weird messages from a blocked number. What do you think it is?
Annabeth messaged her back right away.
I’ll see what I can come up with. I’m glad you let me know. When did it start, and how many messages have you gotten?
Vi let out a trembling sigh.
“What are you doing, Sissy? Can Brooke come visit?”
“No honey, Brooke’s busy. She says she wants to see you as soon as she gets a chance.”
The lie escaped her lips without much thought to how she could make it work. For her sister, she would find a way to bring Brooke back into her life. Yes, she would try her best to patch things up.
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
Vi picked up her phone and quickly read the text from Annabeth.
Well?
She shot back her reply and bit her bottom lip.
I’ve gotten only a few texts, but there had been other things. I thought at first it was Brooke or Ricky but now I’m beginning to wonder if it might not be someone else. Do you think it has to do with what happened with Carlos?
Annabeth’s reply didn’t surprise her.
It might. Can’t know for sure unless we trace the messages.
Joy clicked her tongue and rocked back and forth. Vi needed to pay attention to her sister before she had a complete meltdown. But she also really wanted to address this now before she forgot.
Can you trace a text?
Annabeth replied, Marcus said it’s possible. He can download a Mobile Network Operator app called BullyStopper. It’s...on the gray side legal wise, but it ‘sniffs’ the cell towers for the data on the user. You can’t take the information you get to the cops since it’s illegal to wiretap someone.
Texas and Tiaras (The Book Cellar Mysteries 2) Page 12
