by Sotia Lazu
“Are you going to work?” Come on, buddy. Fess up. Don’t lie to me. The latter became a chant in my head for the brief moments until he replied.
“No. I’ll nod off too.” As if to prove he had every intention of doing so, he stopped caressing me.
I was aware of the irony of wanting him to come clean, when I was deceiving him, but it was about self-preservation. My first priority was making sure I didn’t trust someone else who’d lie to me. I’d have time later to feel bad about it. “Right. You’re not going in. Following a lead...” There was his opening, and I hoped he took it.
He didn’t. “Yeah.” The single whispered word sounded regretful.
With any guy before Alex, I’d have let them go on, dig a bigger hole for when I dumped their asses into it. Since Constantine made me trust him and then duped me, I regard men lying as the norm. I expect to be lied to; it fits into my world theory. For Alex, however, I did something out of character. I gave up my efforts toward an Oscar-winning performance. “I heard you. On the phone.”
I expected him to make an excuse or be upset I eavesdropped. I couldn’t blame him if he was, but I was relieved when instead he said, “I didn’t want you to have to worry about me too, with everything else happening. Wanted you to believe I had things under control.”
I turned within his embrace. “I only heard what you said. Wanna talk about it?”
“Roebuck wouldn’t let me investigate what I found out unless I let him in on it. I said I had a source I couldn’t reveal—that it’s big and lives are at stake if the department is involved—but he’s stubborn. He offered to come by and talk about it. I can’t drag more people into this.” He cupped my cheek and tucked my hair behind my ear with his fingertips. “Thought about asking for a leave, but I can’t take days off in the middle of a case. Finally asked him to suspend me, so I could do what I wanted.”
“But he wouldn’t.” I walked my index and middle finger up his torso, then along his collarbone. It wasn’t a sexual touch, more an I’m here one. If my touch afforded him half the comfort his afforded me, it would help him open up.
He shook his head and closed his hand around mine, stopping me. “He refused to. Said they needed me. So I had to play dirty. First I threatened to quit, and then I reminded him he owed me. It was a low blow.” He rubbed his face with his free hand. “I can’t believe I did that. I’m such a prick.”
“You’re not.” I kissed his cheek.
He turned away. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. It’s not even true.”
I didn’t ask. Going against my nature, I remained silent until he began talking again.
“Roebuck was my partner. I was going through my dark phase when promotions were up. It was too soon after my breakup with Marion.” I assumed that was the ex. “Anyway.” He sighed and wet his lips.
My gaze was drawn to his mouth before I returned it to his eyes, feeling guilty for thinking naughty thoughts at a time like that.
“We scored close enough on the test, but my performance had taken a plunge. Roebuck got the promotion to lieutenant and deserved it, but he’s felt bad about it since. And now, like the asshole I am, I rubbed it in.”
I couldn’t watch his self-kicking any longer. “You did it for him. If he got involved—if anyone got involved—there’d be more people missing. Dying.”
“I’m still an asshole.”
I batted his shoulder. “That’s irrelevant.”
His lips twitched, and then he did what I was hoping for. He smiled. “You always know the right thing to say, huh?” Before I could come up with a self-satisfied reply, he tickled me and kept tickling until I squealed.
ALEX BROUGHT MEXICAN food, which was spicy as hell, and I took immense pleasure in his terrified response when I offered to blow him after stuffing my mouth with what seemed like my body weight in jalapenos.
Those moments of intimacy that had more to do with enjoying each other’s company and wit than with sex were when I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that I was half in love with him already. I loved the tiny little wrinkles that showed around his eyes when he smiled. I loved the long lashes that shaded his prominent cheekbones. I loved how he lowered his eyelids coyly before saying something raunchy that would make me blush if I had blood circulation. I loved the way he spoke with his entire upper body, his shoulders, arms, and long fingers stressing his points as eloquently as his deep voice.
Those moments made me want to cry. The way I felt about him was why I should leave him. I couldn’t stand watching him grow closer to death every day, and the idea of turning him was preposterous. Alex’s humanity was part of him. To take that away, together his chance of fathering children that would turn out as wonderful as he was, was something only a monster would do.
So I focused on the now and the time we had together until the case was solved, but as the hours passed, I felt him become antsy. Strangely enough, I also loved that his mind never veered far from the case. His sense of honor wouldn’t allow him to have fun at the expense of people in danger. Spending time with me while waiting for a clue was one thing. Wasting time with me once a clue had landed in our laps was another. After a point, he began taking trips upstairs to check if the sun had gone down, as if he couldn’t trust the Internet any more than he could my inner clock.
I, on the other hand, was in no hurry for dusk to come.
I was in no hurry to hear Sheena admit she had something to do with my turning. I’d trusted her. She was the first person to be genuinely nice to me when I moved to the city. She’d found me the apartment I lived in before I died, and booked my jobs both as a model and in the... other industry I tried to make a name for myself in. For a long time, I felt bad about not telling her I was still around, and now I found out she might have been involved in what had happened to me. I didn’t want to face her, but I couldn’t let Alex deal with her alone. It might be dangerous.
“It’s dark outside,” Alex yelled from the top of the stairs.
I barely groused on my way up.
To his credit, he was holding the door for me when I got there.
“I CAN FLY US OVER, you know.” As much as I dreaded meeting my old agent and friend, a forty-five-minute drive would only fray my nerves more.
Alex, who was locking the front door, froze mid key-turn. “You can fly?”
“I didn’t mention that, did I?”
He finished locking and looked at me. “No, you didn’t. How?”
“I don’t know the mechanics. No sprouting bat wings or anything. I just want to take off, and I do. An open mind is essential, the handbook said.”
“I see. While that sinks in, let’s drive there.” He pressed the button on his car key, and the car’s lights flashed twice. “I don’t like flying,” he said, getting the car door for me. That he admitted it, instead of coming up with a lame excuse, gained him extra brownie points but still wasn’t enough for me to admit I was afraid of what we might find out. I folded all of my five-feet-four into the passenger seat, and he shut the door.
We hit traffic almost immediately. Insert frustrated groan.
Stillness isn’t something that comes naturally for me. I know, I know—vampires are supposed to have perfected stillness. I think it’s something paranormal romance writers came up with, to add mysterious allure to their heroes and heroines. Or maybe the notion came from someone who’s met Constantine. Either way I don’t do still; I’m a fidgeter. I play with my hair, the hem of my top, the belt loop of my jeans, my jewelry, and occasionally tap my foot and/or fingers on the nearest available surface, which, at present, was the casing of the car window.
My nails aren’t long, but they’re always manicured—yay to having been turned right after full-body pampering—and they’re noisy.
Disturbing was the word Alex used.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to get on your nerves.” I stopped tapping my fingers, but soon began twitching my foot, and from time to time, connecting with the middle column.
�
�Okay, what’s wrong?” Alex peeked at me before returning his attention to the road. “It’s the first time I’ve seen you so jittery.”
“Yeah, well, you haven’t seen all that much of me, have you?” Nice, Cherry. I gave him a sheepish look. “I’m sorry. I’m being a bitch.”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“Smooth, Marsden.” Still, I felt more relaxed with his attempt at humor.
At the traffic light, he put his hand on my thigh, his warmth doing nothing for the cold I felt inside. “Seriously, what’s the matter?” he asked.
Closing my eyes, I let my head roll to the side until my forehead leaned against the cool glass.
I was done with my shift at the bakery and was helping myself to a doughnut with extra glaze on it, when a woman behind me said, “I’d enjoy the fuck out of that if I were you, honey. If you’re to work for me—which you are, and are going to love—that’s the last of those babies you’re gonna have in a long while.”
I turned to bitch slap whoever dared come between me and my dessert, but the smile on her lips stopped me in my tracks.
“I bet you want to be a model, don’t you?” she asked. “Or an actress? Isn’t that why you came to the city?”
Mara, the bitchy waif who had the evening shift, snorted. That made my decision for me. I took a big bite of my doughnut. “What can you offer me?” I asked.
The woman’s smile widened. “The world, darling. And I’ll start with a ride away from this place.”
I opened my eyes again and focused on the here and now. “Sheena. If she handed me to them... It hurts.” I blew out my breath noisily, fogging the window. “I know it’s silly. It’s been so long, but—” At least she’d let me keep having doughnuts for a while.
“I get it.” He squeezed my leg, and I knew he wasn’t just saying that. He got me.
A look at him, and I was back in swooning mode, the knot in my stomach temporarily forgotten. Even if Sheena betrayed me, Alex wouldn’t. He got me.
But for how long?
Chapter Nine
FOR ALL MY ANTICIPATION and dread, reaching the modeling agency proved anticlimactic.
I’d imagined Alex ringing the doorbell and moving to the side, allowing me to step forward. Sheena would open the door, dressed in a possibly purple pantsuit, professional smile in place. When she saw me, that smile would waver until it was replaced by a look of shock and fear. She might try to slam the door in my face, but I’d be faster. Sticking my foot into the opening of the door, I’d say, “Hello, darling,” my voice cool as a cucumber.
I should have let Alex in on my fantasy confrontation. Since I didn’t, he got it wrong from the start, ringing the bell but not budging an inch, so I had to stand on tiptoe, for the top of my head to be visible over his shoulder. The door was thrown open by a blonde I’d never seen before, a distinct expression of disinterest on her face. “Can I help you?”
Yup. Anticlimactic.
I mean, don’t get me wrong—the sight of Alex flashing his badge at the girl and telling her we had some questions was a thrill in and of itself. He ought to have turned the badge and his weapon in, but he was being naughty about it, and I didn’t mind that naughtiness at all. I wished we were alone. Seeing him like that, jaw clenched, shoulders squared, body posture imposing, I wanted him to take me right there, on Sheena’s Models’ doorstep. Or I could jump him.
Nah. I couldn’t. I was introduced as a consultant, and sexually assaulting a detective wouldn’t be very consultanty.
The blonde said her name was Barbara Greg, and she was Sheena’s assistant. She invited us in and asked if we’d like a beverage. We followed her to the waiting area but politely refused her offer of coffee or tea.
“We would like to speak to Ms. Herring,” Alex said.
“I’m sorry. She isn’t in.”
Alex brought a notepad and pen out of his jacket’s inner pocket. “Do you know when she will be coming in or where we might find her?”
She shrugged. “Well, she left two days ago and said she’d be gone indefinitely, so no.”
I felt like a balloon someone punched a hole in. All the mental and emotional prep work I’d given myself on the ride was sucked out of me, leaving behind a sizeable gap and a sense of floating—not as in being joyful and weightless, but rather like having no anchor or purpose. It was a sickening feeling, and I wanted to punch the wall. Irrelevant to my personal history with her, Sheena was our best lead so far, our greatest chance to find Dotty and the other girls. I couldn’t believe she wasn’t here.
“Are you aware of her current whereabouts? Where did she go?” Alex tapped his pen on his notepad, while I stood against the wall, playing not-here cop. A slight twitch of his eye was the only indication that Sheena’s absence bothered him too.
“She said she’d visit family, out of town. I don’t know where,” Barbara said nasally, pouring herself some coffee. The smell of hazelnut wafted to my nostrils. I’d have loved some but saw enough cop shows to know accepting something to eat or drink from someone you were questioning seemed unprofessional. “I haven’t been working for her long enough to ask for details.” She shrugged again, her breasts threatening to pop out over her constricting top.
“How long is not long enough?” Alex smiled, and I leaned carefully to one side, to see what he was looking at. Her eyes, not her cleavage. I caught myself nodding in approval. Good man. The ludicrousness of concerning myself with petty jealousy when so much was at risk didn’t escape me.
“Almost three months now.” The blonde turned to me, and I straightened as fast as I could. “What is this about?” Worry was drawn on her pretty yet overly made-up face.
Alex ignored her query. “Ms. Herring went on a vacation, leaving behind an employee with less than three months of experience?” His voice was gentle, coaxing, rather than prodding. Amaze me with how good and deserving an employee you are, it said.
She frowned. “I’m excellent at my job, Detective Marsden. I don’t need to defend my employer’s choices.”
“I don’t doubt your abilities, Ms. Greg.” Alex smiled reassuringly. I tried not to harrumph.
“It’s Miss Greg.” She smiled back. “Better yet, call me Barbie, Detective.”
Barbie, for fuck’s sake.
“Miss Greg, then.” Alex produced a pack of pictures from the same pocket as the notebook. “Have you seen any of these girls before? Maybe one of them has worked with your agency in the past.”
Barbie barely glanced at Dotty’s picture before she put it down and looked at the second missing girl’s photograph. My heart sank when she showed no signs of recognition. My ears didn’t pick up the slightest change in her heart rate. She wasn’t acting. Second girl got a no too, but we sort of had a winner with the third one.
“Her.” Barbie’s lacquered, one-inch nail—how could she type with those things?—tapped the picture of a stunning girl with short raven locks and prominent eyebrows that brought out the green specks in her hazel eyes. “Liza Mills. She was here... a month ago? Let me check my appointment book.”
She opened her top drawer and brought out a humongous folder, holding a pack of letter-size sheets. Each page had a mug shot stapled on it.
Barbie noticed me looking at the photos. “Sheena insists on candid shots of everyone we interview.”
I knew that. I was just wondering if my picture was still here somewhere.
I begrudgingly admitted Barbie might be better at her work than I pegged her for. She found the girl immediately. The only info under her shot was a cell-phone number.
“Here she is.”
“This contact number is all you have?” Alex reached out, and Barbie placed the open folder in his hands with a nod.
He flipped through pages, and I tried to be inconspicuous while stretching my neck to see the photos attached to them. “The other forms are filled in completely, as far as I can see,” he said. He hadn’t looked through everything, though. Maybe there were other girls with just their nu
mbers jotted down, girls who hadn’t disappeared yet and could be saved.
She wrinkled her nose. “I book the appointments and fill these in when the girls come. I was on my day off when Sheena met with her, though, and when she gave me the form to file it, she said not to bother with anything else.”
“Do you mind if we hold on to this for a couple of days?” He graced her with that smile that made me want to be his slave. “I could get a warrant, but I see no reason to.”
“I have it all in electronic form. Even scanned the pictures. I’ll print you a copy.” Barbie preened. “I keep telling Sheena we’re in the age of technology.”
Well, that was easy.
While the printer worked its little mechanical heart out, making a sound that bore an eerie similarity to grunting, Barbie looked at the other missing girls’ photos and ruled out everyone else.
I started moving toward the front door, when Alex asked, “What’s your work schedule, Miss Greg? Do you work Saturdays, for example?”
Why did he want to know that?
Her grin was big enough to show her gums. “I’m here every Saturday and most Sundays, but I have the afternoon off one week from today.” Her face fell, which gave me an odd sense of joy. “But I can’t leave the office—not with Sheena gone.”
“Is it a fixed weekend every month or did you need that time off for a specific reason?”
“No reason. Sheena gives me an afternoon off each week. This week it was day before yesterday, when I last saw her.”
When anyone last saw Dotty.
“And you haven’t heard from her since.” It was a mixture of a statement and a question. Pen poised over pad once more, Alex waited.
“She called me about half an hour before you showed. Asked if anyone had been by looking for her.” And she hadn’t thought to mention that so far. Finally she asked the million-dollar question. “Is she in trouble?”
She would be, when I found her. Before I did something stupid like say that out loud, Alex asked, “Does your phone show caller ID?”
