by Jenna Rae
“Yes, you are.”
The rest of the session was a blur. Lola drove away thinking about those words.
“I am worth more than that.”
She parked near Pier 39, arriving there before she’d decided on a plan to do so. She wanted, she realized, to try one more time to find the source of the problem with Sterling.
Why did Sterling pick me? She went over and over her actions that day.
I was too shy. Too self-conscious. Too self-absorbed. Not friendly enough. I went there with a chip on my shoulder, figuring there was no way anyone would like me, and so they didn’t. I leaned way too hard on Marco. I acted like it was up to everyone else to reach out to me. I was childish. I couldn’t, wouldn’t just meet people and get to know them. I thought I had to figure out how to earn my place with them, and I tried too hard and in all the wrong ways. I was never myself.
She stood near where she and Marco had watched two boats crash into each other during the storm. What exactly had they hoped to accomplish? She couldn’t even remember now. There was a flash of light somewhere behind her, and Lola whirled around.
“Who’s there?”
She searched the darkening area. There were small clusters of tourists around, but none of them were looking at her. They were busy talking to each other and looking around. She tried to imagine what could have caused that flash of light. Hadn’t there been a flash like that somewhere before? Then one of the tourists took a picture of his companions, and Lola remembered.
Sterling. The day they met, at that lunch. Lola’s gaze darted toward the restaurant. She had been looking out at the sea, and Sterling had taken her picture. That was the flash, wasn’t it? It had to be. And another time too, though she couldn’t place when or where. Was it Sterling who had taken Lola’s photo just now? Or was that paranoid? It was hard to know—maybe Sterling wasn’t that crazy. Maybe weird texting was the extent of Sterling’s repertoire of creepy actions. Remembering the way Sterling had been so skillful at manipulating her into acquiescing to her requests, Lola was sure Sterling had gotten a lot of practice pushing people in whatever direction she wished. She was too good at it to be anything but seasoned. What else did she do? What other strange and disturbing things would Sterling want to do? Suddenly chilled, Lola hustled to her car. She locked the doors and raced home, whispering to herself.
“What does she want? How do I stop her?”
Standing with her back pressed against the front door, as though doing so would keep out the world and all its ills, Lola shook her head, amazed by the ease with which her little bubble of confidence had popped.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Something pinged for Del, though she couldn’t have said what. She shivered, chilled by the damp, and started up the truck to head back to the city. The phone buzzed just as she was about to back out, and she stopped to answer Phan’s call.
“Hey, what’s up?” She noticed that there were several missed calls from Phan, from Marco, from Lola’s house, and she bit off a panicked question—had something happened? She pulled up her professional voice. “Sorry I missed your calls. Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” Phan sounded annoyed, not worried, and Del let out her breath. “But you need to answer your damn phone, Mason.”
“Yeah, sorry. Went for a drive. Phone vibrates, but I didn’t feel it. I’ll turn the ringer back on.”
“Listen, just a heads-up—Lola was freaked, thought you were in trouble. She went to your place.”
“Yeah, so?”
There was a silence.
“Phan, what’s up? I don’t care if Lola went to my house. She can go there anytime she wants. What’s the big deal?”
Phan scratched his cheek. “Said she saw something that told her Janet had been there, so I just thought you should know.”
“What? I—”
“Forget it,” he growled. “If you’re stupid enough to dump Lola for that freaky little bitch, that’s your business. But—never mind. Hahn is a missing person, remember? You couldn’t even call me? You’re a fucking idiot. Meet me at the coffee shop in an hour.” He hung up.
Del eyed the phone and dialed Phan’s number, but he didn’t pick up. He was really pissed, wasn’t he? What was he talking about? She called Lola’s house and left a message, called Marco and left a message.
“Well, now it’s everybody else’s turn—tag, you’re it.” She headed up the steep hill that led out of the little coastal town and back into the city.
“Janet hasn’t been in my house, dammit. And I didn’t dump Lola. I love her.”
The little voice in the back of her head wanted to remind Del she still loved Janet too. That one she drowned out by blasting a Johnny Cash CD and singing along with the Man in Black. In the thick mist that kept drivers at a pokey crawl along Highway 1 and then the 280, Del felt strangely disconnected from the rest of the world, like her truck was a spaceship that traversed some strange universe comprised mostly of fog. It was a little clearer in the Mission, and she headed gratefully into the coffee shop. It was only when she saw Phan’s cool expression that she recalled his irritation with her.
“Hey, Janet hasn’t been in my house, Phan. I would’ve told you, asshole. But I should have answered my phone. I was just taking a little break.”
Phan’s response was a grunt.
“Lola seemed pretty sure.”
“Well, she’s wrong. I’m the one who filed a Missing Persons report on her, remember? Do you honestly think I’d see her and not report it? Jesus, Phan, have a little faith.”
“Okay, okay. Jeez. Still, answer your damn phone. Who the hell just ignores the phone? You’re still on the force, unless I’m mistaken.”
“Yes, I’m still on the force, Momma.”
“Then answer your phone. Don’t leave it up to me to handhold your ex.”
Del fought the impulse to retort back and shrugged. “Okay. Sorry. I guess I like being alone.”
“Yeah, well, who doesn’t?” Phan shook his head. “God, it’s great—you can do whatever you want, and you don’t have to think about anyone but yourself, and you can be as selfish and arrogant as you want. It’s awesome!”
Del rolled her eyes. “Come on, man. You know what I mean.”
Phan sat back, thawing only slightly. “Here’s what I know. When I was single—the first time—I had a great life. Drove a fucking cherry Viper, lived in a sexy ass condo with a view all the ladies loved. Spent all my money on myself. Partied every night. I drank like a fish, screwed any woman who’d let me and thought I was happy. Never imagined for a second that I’d want anything more.”
“I’m not some dippy college kid—”
“But things changed for me. I can’t explain it.” Phan shrugged. “There’s something about having someone who gets you, you know? If you’re sick, when you’ve had a shitty day, you want somebody there who gives a fuck. Do you even know how lucky you are? She loves you, Mason. She’s been there for you no matter what. Aw, hell. Maybe you and Lola aren’t right for each other, I don’t know. So fine. But Janet, she’s something else. She’ll shit on you the minute you let your guard down.”
“Phan—”
“You know this!” Phan stood and paced around the table, startling the woman at the table behind him. “How the fuck can you be so stupid?”
“Excuse me!” The woman glared at Phan until he waved an apology and sat back down.
“Sorry,” he muttered, and Del watched him. He was red-faced and agitated, and she realized she’d never seen him so upset.
“Is this tirade really all about Janet? Who, by the way, I haven’t seen, remember? Or is something else going on?”
“You make it really hard to give a shit about you sometimes.”
Del didn’t know how to respond.
“Okay.” Phan crossed his arms. “Listen, do your thing, whatever. It’s not like we’re friends, right?”
“Hey.” Del frowned. “You’re getting really wound up here. I don’t get it. Yea
h, I’m an idiot where Janet’s concerned, so what? I know she’s no good. I know Lola loves me. I get it, okay? But—”
“The heart wants. Yeah, I know.”
“So, if you know, why are you so pissed?”
Phan shrugged. “Who knows?”
“I haven’t seen Janet, Phan.”
“Fine. I just hate to see you fuck up your life. Believe it or not, I happen to think you’re a halfway decent human being.”
Del faked a heart attack. “Does this mean you’re sweet on me?”
“Well, actually,” Phan was turning red again, “I owe you. I don’t know what you said to Kaylee, but she’s only slightly peeved with me, instead of totally hating me.”
“I didn’t say anything to her. She’s just got a short attention span.”
Phan’s loud laugh startled the woman he’d already annoyed once, and she glared at him.
“Let’s get outta here,” Del suggested.
“Hey.” Phan leaned forward. “Sorry if I was an asshole.”
“You weren’t. I know you’re right. I’m an idiot.”
“Shut up. Listen, Lola and Marco went to the wharf. They were trying to find the stalker—her stalker’s—boat.”
“Sterling has a boat?”
“You didn’t know that?” Phan shook his head. “Here’s a suggestion: talk to Lola. The only reason I brought it up is that you might want to warn her about playing detective, okay? I’ll check with the harbormaster, see if we can get a rundown on the owners who dock by the wharf.”
“Yeah, okay.” Del checked her watch. “Listen, I’m glad Kaylee’s dialed it back to mild disdain, and I appreciate you checking on the boat. I got too much to figure out. Obviously, I want to get Marco’s and Lola’s stalkers, of course, but whoever’s after Janet took a shot at me, and somebody burned her place down, and she is still missing, so I figure that’s the priority, at least for now. Not to mention the, like, thirty extra missing women. You know, we’ll find them in our spare fuckin’ time.”
“Sure, yeah.” Phan shook his head.
“Seriously, what the fuck?”
Phan waved her toward the door. “No, I get it. You’re right.”
“But?”
“But there was a time, not so long ago, when you would have put Lola’s well-being over anyone else’s. Janet shows up, and now, she’s the priority. Over Lola, over Marco, over a dozen missing women. You can rationalize it all you want, but that’s how it shakes out.” And he was gone before she could respond.
“Fucking nosy Phan,” Del complained to the dashboard on the short drive home. “Thinks he knows me—I love Lola.” She was at a stoplight. “I have to go after the perp who shot me, and I have to find the missing women, but both of those are complex. I mean, that’s just simple logic. Lola met a goofball who sends mean texts. I’ll take care of it, but how could I justify prioritizing that higher than a missing person and a shooter?”
Del couldn’t erase from her mind the image of Lola lying on the floor, drunk on what couldn’t have been more than a glass of wine, hiding from the phone. Putting it in the medicine cabinet because she was scared. Not telling Del because she was scared. Marco, pale and shaking and dark-eyed, scared and confused.
Del parked on the street and rested her head against the steering wheel. Her head was swimming with images of the women whose photos she’d been studying for weeks. The petite brunette with freckles, the one whose grown son kept calling the station. The young blonde, Tinfoil Wilson’s daughter, whose fathomless eyes bespoke a maturity belied by her birth date. The graying prostitute, the overweight gas station clerk, the dishwater blonde with the oft-broken nose and a graduate degree. All gone without a trace. All dead or suffering or who knew what. And they were all waiting for Del to save them.
“What should I do? What am I supposed to do? I don’t know how to protect any of them.” She hugged herself. “I’m lost. I’m totally, I’m so lost. How can I find anyone?”
She called Lola.
“Hey, you okay?”
“Yes, are you?” Lola’s voice was careful.
“Yeah, yeah. Not sure why I called exactly.” Del couldn’t have explained why she was smiling, but she couldn’t stop. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“I took what we had for granted. Took you for granted. I didn’t mean to and I’m sorry. That’s all.” She hung up, not even listening for a reply, not sure she could handle it if Lola cried or was mad or was grateful, absurdly grateful in that way she had sometimes.
“Acts like a starving puppy,” Del muttered to herself. “Acts like it’s a big damn deal if I do any little thing for her.”
The lightness she’d been feeling evaporated as quickly as it had appeared and Del sank onto the steps of her front porch. She watched the sun disappear behind the buildings to the west and wondered what the dark would reveal. The sky turned orange, then fuchsia, then purple before going the blue-black of a rare clear night. The colors were vague at first, then brilliant, then dim as they faded one into the other, and Del soaked in the changing palette with pleasure. Still, whatever joy it offered, the sunset gave her no insight, and she finally gave up, trudging inside and heading for bed. She was back to desk duty in the morning, finally, and it couldn’t come soon enough.
She should have felt glad to get back to work, but the next morning Del was nothing but angry. She had no right to be pissed. Del knew that as surely as she knew the day of the week. But knowing she had no right and managing not to be pissed were two different things. She hadn’t been in the station more than an hour before she slammed her cup down on her desk too hard, sloshing coffee on her sleeve.
“Fuck.”
“Nice.” Phan raised an eyebrow. “Rough day already?”
“You don’t wanna know.”
He shrugged and they worked silently on their paperwork for several hours. It was tedious but oddly calming, and Del felt her tension reducing bit by bit. Finally she looked up to see Phan watching her.
“One of the things I like about you,” she drawled, allowing herself a small smile, “is how you don’t need to chatter about every little thing.”
“Well, darling, here’s how it is.” Phan’s drawl echoed hers. “We both know how utterly charming you can be when you’re in a mood. Having the vapors and whatnot.”
Laughter gurgled out of Del and she pushed back her chair.
“Okay.” Del pulled out her phone. “I have a couple of ideas about something.”
“No can do, pardner. Gotta pick up Kaylee. Her mom’s got us all going to a counselor. Today’s the first session.”
“Hmm.” Del wasn’t sure what to say. “Good luck.”
Phan laughed. “Same to you.”
Del finished more scutwork back at the station after Phan’s departure and managed to make it home without having to talk to anyone. She got her weapons out of the gun safe, visually inspecting each.
“Been too long since I cleaned the old ones,” she told herself. “Got to maintain the munitions.”
Daddy used to say that. Back in the early days when he was still one of the good guys or seemed like one to Del, Daddy had sat down maybe every few weeks at the kitchen table, a special towel spread out before him. He would pull out his two revolvers, his pistol, his shotgun and his two best rifles and line up his cleaning kit. As he took apart each weapon, he’d explain to a rapt Del how each mechanism worked, why it was designed that way, what each gun was most effective for. She could see them before her as clearly as if Daddy were perched on the chair across from her. She could have cleaned those guns herself, she paid such close attention. The guns had been beautiful to Daddy and thus beautiful to Del, and she’d never lost her admiration for the perfect balance, proportion and symmetry necessary to well-designed firearms.
“Like a surgical kit.” She laid out her own tools and supplies on her own special towel on her own kitchen table. She took her time, relishing the precision of the work, the quiet and the smel
l of the gun oil. It was a smell that she’d always liked, that and the smell of the metal. She could hear Daddy’s voice in her head.
“Slow and thorough but not fussy,” she repeated the words he’d muttered to himself and to her.
“Who taught you how to clean ’em, Daddy?” She’d never wondered this before. “Was it Nana?” That didn’t seem likely. “Your daddy? Who was your daddy? How come I never knew him? Did he stick around when you were a kid?”
Funny, she’d never wondered about her paternal grandfather or either of her maternal grandparents. Her world when she was a child was run by first Nana and Momma and Daddy and then just Momma and Daddy. Daddy, mostly, because he was the center of Del’s universe and Momma’s, just like he’d been the center of Nana’s. And that was just how it was.
“Did you ever wonder what I’d be like as a grown-up? Or did you wonder much about me at all? How come things changed so bad?” She forced away her maudlin musing and focused on her task. It was starting to feel like drudgery now, though she’d barely started. Wanting to recapture the nostalgic feeling, Del decided to clean even the weapons she usually only pulled out a few times a year.
She went to the front hall to get the old .38 she kept in the entry table drawer, but the drawer was empty.
“What the hell?” She stood, mouth agape and one hand in the empty drawer, trying to remember the last time she’d actually seen the revolver. What could have happened? She grabbed her phone.
“Hey, how you been? Ready to join the team again?” Tess’s voice sang through the line.
“Hey, my .38 is gone, the old one. Did I take it to the range last time? Do you remember?”
“No, you haven’t taken it since last year, maybe even the year before. Where do you keep it?”
