by Beth Rhodes
“You’re still going to do it?”
She frowned at him. “Of course. Why not?”
“Uh, well, because you lost your entire shop in a fire. There’s a serial killer targeting sexual assault victims.”
“See? Here’s the thing… Specifically, women who accused a man of raping them, and as similar as that seems to what I went through, I never reported a sex crime.” She got up, pulling his sheet around her, and grabbed her bag from next to the door. “Gabriel went away for crimes with intent to kill.”
Tan was staring at her now, looking a little hollowed out, a little pale—if that was even possible, but it was, because he did.
“What?” She frowned. “Are you okay?”
“I have to go.”
“Sure. I was going to finish those pieces this morning before I started figuring out what to do about my presentation…” she paused. “You really don’t look okay.”
He ignored her and opened the door.
“Hey,” she exclaimed, tightening her hold on the sheet.
“Malcolm!” he yelled down the hall, and she almost tripped in her escape to get by him and reach the bathroom before Malcolm showed up in the doorway. Didn’t work. Tan steadied her with a hand on her arm, and then there was Malcolm.
She sighed. She’d said something to set him off.
“I have to check into something. Don’t let her out of your sight—for anything.”
“Yes, sir.”
“No. You don’t understand.”
Heat rose on her neck—exposed neck—and her hands were shaking. “Tan,” she reprimanded gently. “Let me go.”
He looked at his hand on her arm, as if not realizing he still had her, and then up into her eyes. “Don’t leave his side. Not for your dad or brothers—anyone. You trust Malcolm right now. No one else.”
“Okay,” she said, hearing the exasperated quality but not really being able to subside it. “I get it.” She stepped back, trying to get away again—amused, though, not offended.
Malcolm was the perfect gentlemen, of course, keeping his eyes averted.
Either that or he was scared of Tan, who did outweigh him a bit.
“I won’t go anywhere without Malcolm and Craig. I promise.”
“I would prefer you not going anywhere, period, until I get back.”
But he was scaring her now. “What is it, Tan?”
He blew out a breath and walked over to her. “A hunch I have to check on.”
“Will you let them take me to my dad’s? I can work there for a few hours, while you—” she waved her hands around. “Do your thing. Plus, I keep a few of my old costumes there, and maybe I can use those to make a sign…or something,” she said. “It’s probably worth a shot. Maggie likes to sew, anyway. She might have some materials I can use.”
After a pause, which made her squirm, he finally answered, “Okay.”
“I want regular updates…” He walked out of the room with Malcolm, and his voice faded. She bit her lip nervously as she closed the door again. Then she hurried to the bathroom and took the fastest shower ever, because she had the funny feeling he might leave without saying goodbye. He was that occupied by whatever was bothering him, whatever was running through his head.
In a way, she wished he would tell her what he was thinking.
But she’d learned he needed time to process things, and he would tell her as soon as he had it all figured it out in his head.
***
“There’s someone here to see you, Claire.” They wouldn’t let her leave yet, though she’d been here a couple days already. They were worried about her mental health. They’d had two different kinds of head doctors and then another social worker.
She kept telling them she was fine, but they weren’t sure. They wanted to continue testing her blood sugar. Claire didn’t blame them, although there was a small part of her that felt as if she’d gone from one captivity to another. She really wanted to go home and be with her son.
“Hi Claire.” This one was one of the police officers. She remembered him. A detective. Had he been part of the Special Victims Unit? She couldn’t remember. He was handsome, a little older than she, and kind. “Mind if I come in?”
“Mind helping me escape?”
He chuckled as he pulled out a notepad. She remembered the notepad because he’d never written a single thing down in it. Only carried it around, as if a shield.
“I’m hoping you can help me.”
She nodded. He didn’t really need her permission. It was nice of him to ask, though. She liked him. He’d been gentle with her from the start.
“I’ve got a few more pictures here. I’m hoping you’d be willing to look at them, and I’ve brought a sketch artist with me this time. You still okay with giving him a description?”
Claire saw the face in her mind, saw those crazy, glowing eyes, and shivered.
“Any time you need to stop, you say the word. I understand this is difficult. I won’t push you. You take your time. Okay?”
Nodding again, she held out her hand.
Officer Jensen handed over a photo of a young woman.
“No.”
“You hardly looked. You sure?”
“The woman who held me captive might have been Italian or Greek—” her frustration grew. Hadn’t she said this already? “—but she was definitely black, sir.”
“So, you never saw this woman. Maybe there was a second abductor?”
“No,” Claire ground out, tossing the photo down. “I’m sorry. I wish I could make this easy on you. That’s not her.” She hesitated. “Who is she?”
“You’re doing fine. Don’t apologize. This one attacked a woman tonight and tried to burn her business to the ground with her in it.”
“Sounds crazy enough,” Claire stated, making him muffle a laugh and then clear his throat. He sort of stopped her, confused her. She liked him. But he was a cop, and she was a victim, a survivor. And…
He picked up the photo then set one more down on the table next to her. “What about this lady?”
Claire’s heart pounded, her eyes filled with tears, but still she couldn’t take her eyes from the image. “That’s her,” she whispered. “That’s her.”
Picking up the photo with shaking hands, she brought the photo paper close to her face. She wanted to see the face. She wanted to see the woman. The woman in the photo was smiling. Her pretty cocoa skin was smooth, younger. But it was definitely the same woman.
She looked up into Jensen’s face. He had a little bit of stubble, as if he’d been up all night and hadn’t had time to shave. “Did you get her? Do you have her?”
“Not yet, but we’re very close.” Jensen reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you.” Then he squeezed once, smiled, and left her to the nurse coming in the room.
“Time to get you ready to go.”
Claire’s gaze stayed with Officer Jensen.
Two words. But they meant more to her than the bucketful of well-wishes and inane platitudes.
***
He’d called Detective Jenkins on his way to his mom’s house and then messaged an old photo as well. Her picture would be out on an APB already. And fear at what was about to happen to his world, his sister’s world made his heart feel like it was about to explode.
His gut screamed at him. All this time. His own mother.
He screeched to a stop in front of the house, disappointed when there was no sign of her car.
“An!” Tan called out to his sister as he opened the door. “You here?”
“Back here, Tan,” she answered right away, sending a surge of relief through his veins.
He followed the sound of her voice to her bedroom and found her sitting at her desk, reading a book. “What are you up to?”
“Found a book at the library yesterday.” She turned a page. “Haven’t been able to stop. It’s so good.”
“Have you seen Mom today?”
“No.”
; “Do you know where she is now?” he asked, working to hide his impatience, knowing it would only agitate her.
“No.”
“No. Like she didn’t leave a note or tell you before she went to work? Do you remember what she was wearing when she left?”
“Not really.”
Two words. Yay.
Tan rubbed his neck and left her room for the kitchen. “Mom?”
Nothing, as expected. He had to tell Hawk. He pulled his cell from his pocket and dialed Hawk Elite. “Hey Josie. Do we have anyone who could come hang out with my sister?”
“Sure. And Hawk’s been looking for you, by the way. He’s starting to get a might ticky about it.”
“Yeah. I’m on it.”
“I’ll text you when I have someone to send over.”
“Thanks.”
He called Hawk right away.
“They let Mrs. Sands go,” Hawk said instead of a greeting. “Thought you should know. They even showed a picture of Gabriel to Claire, but she didn’t know him. They’re both clear.”
Tan’s throat tightened as he rearranged his thoughts. “I need someone to come and cover my sister while I find my mother.”
“Stacy’s on her way.” Hawk didn’t even hesitate. Gratitude filled him.
He understood how the team worked, loyalty first, but he’d never been so directly affected by it. Tan looked around the empty kitchen of his mother’s home and noted how clean it was. He thought back to his childhood, thought to the hot summers and a kitchen sink piled high with dishes. Always open peanut butter and jelly jars on the counter. He remembered toys on the living room carpet and papers piled high on the table behind the couch.
“Liz isn’t the connection to those murders, Hawk. I am.”
~ 31 ~
She felt safe at her dad’s.
Having Malcolm and Craig as shadows didn’t hurt. But it was Maggie who was really going to win the prize. There had even been a few times in there when she was holding Liz’s hand.
“What about instead of using a table, you set your booth up like a locker room? Your dad has always had those old benches in the rink, and last year, he found a few rows of old lockers. You could throw a few of your designs around. Let people actually walk into the space and feel the designs.”
Liz turned to Maggie, who had her head bent over a drawer full of materials in the sewing room and was sorting through old buttons.
“That’s brilliant. I love it so much. I’ll have skates and some hockey sticks, too. A helmet under the bench. With the locker doors open, I’ll have space to hang a costume or two, plus I can use an old one of my leotards to throw across the bench.” Excitement raced through her. “Let’s go to the rink.”
“We’re staying here—miss.” Malcolm had a scowl on his face. His arms were crossed over his chest.
She almost laughed, but it was the excitement driving her, not a cruel joke on him. “The rink is here,” she exclaimed, pointing her finger into the air. She spun on her toes, taking Maggie with her, and jumped a little dance. “Yes, yes, yes.”
She smacked a big, fat kiss on Maggie’s cheek.
“This is going to be the best display at the expo.” Nerves struck and she sucked in a breath. “Two days left, Maggie.”
“Come along, dear. We’re going to march right up to the rink and start making your set.”
Liz turned to Malcolm. “It’s up the hill. You can see it from the back porch. You can call Tan—again—and let him know. As a matter of fact, maybe he can drive his truck around when he gets here, and we can load the stuff into it. Please?”
His eyes narrowed, and she knew he didn’t like being out of control of the situation.
“Please.”
Maggie put a hand on her shoulder. “He has a job to do, dear.” She worried her lip and wrung her hands. “Maybe he’s right and we should wait it out here. Your Mr. Byrnes will be here soon, right?” She was talking to Malcolm as she finished.
Malcolm rolled his eyes, but he must have deemed her dad’s property safe, because without a word, he signaled to Craig and pulled out his phone. She heard him calling Hawk first, asking him to send a couple guys their way. And then he called Tan.
And part of her wanted to rip the phone from his hands.
Tan had successfully avoided her all morning, and she would give anything to talk to him, ask him how he was doing. She knew whatever was keeping him had to be a big deal.
She rolled the black felt back onto the skein and set it over onto the measuring table for later. “I’ll get my jacket.”
“Grab your boots, dear,” Maggie headed in the opposite direction. “Probably a muddy mess after the snow last week. I’m going to move my laundry then go up to the attic for your mom’s old costume. The one from 1968.”
Liz stopped short half way down the hall to the backdoor. “You still have that?”
“Of course, I do.”
She blinked, overwhelmed by the little fact. How had she not known? “I’d love to use it. Thank you.”
In the mudroom out back, she shoved her feet into her boots with Craig as her shadow. She stood and took her jacket off the hook and slid it over her shoulders. “Ready, kind sir?”
He opened the door for her. “We’re headed out the rear door,” Craig said into whatever ear piece he’d acquired.
“Fancy,” she teased him, but he didn’t even crack a smile.
So she ignored his presence as they walked up the hill, and took in the early afternoon sunshine. The temps were near fifty, and the warmth on her face gave her great hope. She’d had a lot of setbacks in the past month, but she was stronger because of them.
Because of Tan.
She led the way around to the side door and crouched to pull the key out of the hidey-hole. Craig stood at her back, taking in the property and scanning every treeline and every rustle of leaves. She knew it because she’d been watching Tan do it. They radiated a certain vibe, especially when they weren’t happy.
Keying open the door, she opened it and stepped back. “You first?”
His weapon was holstered under his arm, within easy reach. Funny she hadn’t noticed it at first. Tan rarely had his sidearm visible. She cleared her throat as she went in after him. The door closed behind her and she stood.
Still. Quiet. The scent of ice, a sort of salty sweet combination from the mix of sweaty bodies and the refrigeration elements. She took a deep breath and nerves fluttered to life in her stomach. Her life. Her passions had started here.
Crossing the bare cement floor to the little step up, she let her hand trail along the wall that circled the rink as she walked back. Everything around her disappeared as she stood there, taking in the feeling, the cold.
A tear slid down her cheek.
She’d let it go, without a fight.
The door opened again, and Craig stepped up to block Maggie’s entrance before he relaxed and let her in.
“Now, Liz. Come this way,” she said so matter-of-factly, she pulled Liz from her musings, from her maudlin. Her goals were different now. Maggie squeezed her arm as she walked by but didn’t stop. “I told your father to put all the new stuff back in the utility closet until we could get a contractor out here to complete an addition.”
Liz stopped again. “He wants to add on? Why?”
“Didn’t he tell you?” She shook her head with a roll of her eyes. “Your brother is coming back next year and wants to teach lessons. Hockey lessons to poor little ice skating kids.” She said it but she laughed. “Another generation of ice-crazy players and fans. He loves it, dear.”
As they neared the closet, Liz noticed the hooks above the benches along the wall, and then she was there, standing in front of her skates. White, always cleaned to perfection after every practice session. She reached up and ran a finger down the side and the up the edge of the blade.
She lifted it, remembered the weight of it in her hands, and felt for the small slice in the leather where she’d scuffed it in practice
doing another turn. Her knees gave so she sat on the old wood bench.
Her shoes came off, and like old times, she unlaced the skates and slipped her foot into the right one. Too snug, it pinched her toes. She moved them, working the leather. This time she pulled on her sock first and smoothed it out, before pulling on the left skate.
She almost laughed at herself.
Could she even skate anymore?
When she stood, her ankles wobbled a little, so she sat back down and tightened the laces a bit.
“Oh,” Maggie gasped, covering her mouth. “Liz.”
“They still fit.” She smiled, bracing herself against the swell of emotion Maggie’s tears caused inside her. “Sort of.”
She stood again and her ankles held as she walked to the edge of the ice and lifted the arm rail that gated the rink. In one smooth yet tentative step, she was on the ice…
Her heart pounded a mile a minute, the rush of it deafening.
But the world disappeared around her as she took one slow loop around the rink and then another and another, she glided slowly through a chasse and followed through to a scratch spin. Just the basics, she thought as her veins iced over and her muscles loosened. Liz glided through another turn then raced for the other end of the rink, and there she slowed when she saw Tan at the wall.
She glided to a stop in front of him.
“Wow,” he said. “You—”
She grinned. “I’m skating.”
Pride rang in her voice, but she couldn’t help it. “I stink right now, really.” She skated away and turned into a mere figure eight. The lines shook, leaving scratch marks on the ice. “Rotten. And I don’t care at all.” Liz skated back over to him and reached over the railing and hugged Tan around his middle. “Thank you.”
His arms closed over her and he kissed the top of her head. “I had nothing to do with it.”
She rose to her bladed tiptoes and landed her lips on his. He didn’t disappoint either, holding her and tasting her. She broke free and skated away, grinning, even as her thighs began a quiet, work-out protest.
She had a man who loved her. A family who supported her. She was going to have a kick-ass presentation for the convention.
