Deadly Deception

by Cade Brogan

  “Long day, no wonder you look tired.”

  “Yeah, it was a long one,” Rylee responded, noticing that the house was quiet—no music, no phone chatter, and no drum rhythm. “Where’s Abby?”

  “Bowling with Piper,” Kenzie said. “Against my better judgment.”

  “Her parents along?”

  “Supposed to be, but I can’t get either of them to answer their phone.”

  “Bowling alleys are noisy. Probably don’t hear their ringers. Or maybe they put their phones in a locker.”

  “Yeah, maybe, but I don’t think so.”

  “You worry too much,” Rylee whispered, kissing the tip of her nose. She’d always been prone to it, but lately, it’d been negatively impacting her quality of life. Maybe once they got through this hectic period before their wedding, she’d settle down.

  “I know,” Kenzie said softly, “but sometimes I can’t help myself.”

  Rylee rubbed her back, offering an understanding nod.

  “I just have this feeling she was lying to me.”

  “Then why’d you let her go?”

  “Because if I didn’t, I was afraid she’d sneak around.”

  “You can’t allow what hasn’t happened to dictate your parenting decisions. If you do, you’re gonna drive yourself nuts.”

  “I know, but I can’t help it,” Kenzie said. “I mean, they could be sneaking around right now, having sex, for all we know.”

  “Yes, they could,” Rylee responded, “but you don’t know that they are.”

  “Do you think they are?”

  “I don’t know. I think they love each other.”

  “They’re too young to love each other.”

  Rylee tilted her head, one eye squinting, just a little.

  “I should’ve said no.”

  “But you said you were worried she’d sneak around.”

  “I was,” Kenzie responded. “But now that you think she might be sleeping with that little gang lord—”

  “I didn’t say that. What I said was that I thought they loved each other. And what I meant by that was that I think they love each other in the way that teenage girls love one another. At fourteen, it’s about wearing someone’s ring, kissing a little bit, and showing off to your friends. You’re just working yourself up, thinking it’s more than it probably is.”

  “If Piper were a boy, it’d be easier.”

  “I don’t think so,” Rylee said softly. “Love is love. And misbehavior is misbehavior. If she misbehaves, lies to us, she’ll have to deal with the consequences, that’s all there is to it.”

  “And another thing,” Kenzie went on, “it worries me to death that she’s so impressed with her, always talking about her extensive juvenile record, like being a little thief was something to brag about. I didn’t raise her to look at criminals like they were heroes.”

  “I know,” Rylee said, “and I don’t think that she does. What I think is that right now she’s all about Piper. And while she is, I think it’s important for us not just to see what’s wrong, but to see what’s right too. I mean, just look at her grades, straight A’s on her final report card. On my best day, I couldn’t do that well.”

  “And it’s amazing because she didn’t study, at least not much.”

  “Some kids are just smart; they don’t have to.”

  “I know that she’s smart,” Kenzie responded, her tone softening. “I just wish she’d apply herself instead of bribing her teachers with my peanut butter cookies.”

  Rylee stifled a chuckle. “As I said, some kids are just smart. And your kid, she’s an accomplished drummer too. I mean, for an eighth grader, she can really play the snare.”

  “But she doesn’t practice, not one-quarter of what you say she needs to.”

  “I set the bar high for her,” Rylee responded. “Because with the kind of talent that she has, she could really go somewhere.”

  Kenzie released a breath, her facial muscles relaxing. “So, you think things are okay. You think we should just keep on doing what we’re doing?”

  “I do.”

  “And you’re not worried that Piper’s in a gang?”

  “It’s not a gang, sweetie,” Rylee soothed. “It’s a tough-girls club, a group of gangbanger wannabes.” She kissed her forehead. “And you can stop worrying because I have my eye on ‘em.”

  “I feel better already.”

  Rylee smiled. “Good. So, how about I take a shower and we head down for some chicken alfredo?”

  “Mmm, sounds good.”

  *

  Their favorite restaurant was in the heart of the downtown. “Good to see you again,” the waiter greeted. “Rinaldi Brachetto D’Acqui and two iced shrimp cocktails to start you off?”

  “That’d be great,” Rylee responded, speaking softly to Kenzie as they made their way to sit down. “I think he knows our order as well as we do,” she added, standing behind Kenzie’s chair until she was seated.

  “You had a reservation?” Kenzie asked. She was surprised because they’d had no wait for their regular table.

  “Yeah,” Rylee answered, “made one on my way home.” She’d also called her grandma to confirm what she thought to be true, that her mom wasn’t currently hospitalized. She hadn’t seen her name on the list of patients, but still.

  “You’re so sweet,” Kenzie said, twitching her nose like she did. She was beautiful, as beautiful as she’d been in college with gorgeous brown eyes, ample breasts, and bouncy dark curls.

  “Just thought you might be in the mood for Italian,” Rylee said. “Thought I’d surprise you.”

  “How’d I get so lucky?” Kenzie responded, leaning to kiss her.

  “It’s me who’s lucky,” Rylee answered, swallowing down fear that in a blink she could lose her.

  “Oh crap,” Kenzie whispered as the waiter set a plate in front of her, “don’t turn around.”

  “Why?” Rylee asked quietly. “What’s wrong?”

  “Pastor Mark.”

  “Oh shit,” Rylee growled. “Please don’t say he’s headed for our table.”

  “He is,” Kenzie responded, grimacing. “Oh crap.”

  “Shit,” Rylee snarled, stabbing a crouton.

  “Why, if it isn’t Kenzie,” Pastor Mark greeted. “Kenzie Bigham.”

  Kenzie smiled, looking up. “Well, I’ll be darned, if it isn’t Pastor Mark.”

  “The office hasn’t been the same without you,” Mark responded. Kenzie had taken the coward’s way out, resigning her secretarial position at the church before she sent out invitations for her engagement party. And she hadn’t returned his calls, not one.

  Mark glanced at Rylee, his tone flattening. “Detective Hayes.”

  Rylee nodded, pushing salad around with her fork. “Pastor.”

  “We miss seeing you at church,” Mark continued, turning back to Kenzie. “You know you’re always welcome.”

  Rylee gulped air, holding it.

  “Am I?” Kenzie asked softly.

  “Why of course you are,” Mark responded, smiling as he touched her arm.

  “Even as a lesbian, I’m welcome?”

  “We’re all sinners,” the pastor answered, “all imperfect, working to change something.” Had Rylee’s eyes been lasers, a hole would have been drilled through his skull.

  “Do you read much? On the topic of same-sex relationships?” Rylee asked, heat flushing through her body. “Because I do. And I must say I’m surprised to hear you take that stance.”

  Mark looked at her as if she were vermin skittering across the ground.

  “I mean with so many biblical scholars concluding that the Bible doesn’t prohibit monogamous same-sex relations,” Rylee continued, “I’d have thought you’d have been aware of that.”

  “I’m aware,” Mark responded, “but that doesn’t make it right.” He turned to Kenzie, his tone dripping with exaggerated emotion. “Come home, Sister Bigham. Repent and come home to your flock.”

  “I’ll thi
nk about it,” Kenzie responded quietly, watching the narrow-minded man make his way back to his table.

  “You’ll think about it?”

  “I didn’t mean it. Not really.”

  “Then, why’d you say it?”

  “What else was I going to say? He was standing right there, looking at me.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Rylee answered, her eyes narrowing, “how about the truth?”

  Kenzie swallowed.

  “Oh my God, that was the truth,” Rylee said, her mouth falling open. “You’re thinking about going back to that place.” Watching services on tv were never going to be a substitute for church attendance in her book. “You’d go back, knowing they’ll never accept you for who you are. I could never figure out why you’d never go anywhere else.” There were plenty of open and affirming congregations within minutes of their home. “But now I know. You had it in the back of your mind all along that sooner or later you’d go back to that one.”

  “You never did understand my faith.”

  “Don’t start,” Rylee responded, making direct eye contact. “I understand your faith just fine. What I don’t understand is how you could be comfortable in a church like that one. What I don’t understand is why you’d never try out an ONA congregation.”

  “Like your grandma and grandpa’s.”

  “Yeah,” Rylee said. “I mean, their minister’s good enough to marry us, why not attend that one?”

  “Because—”

  “Because you think evangelicals are the only ones gonna skip through the pearly gates. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  “No, it’s not, not even close,” Kenzie responded, rolling fettuccine onto her fork. “You don’t understand. You think you do, but you don’t. You think it should be easy for me to let go of beliefs that I’ve held for a lifetime. But it’s not. It’s hard.”

  “I know it is,” Rylee said, her tone softening. “And I don’t mean to make things difficult. It’s just that people like that, they scare me.” She threaded their fingers together. “See, it hasn’t been so long ago that they ripped you from my arms.”

  “You don’t need to be scared,” Kenzie murmured. “What happened will never happen again. I promise.”

  Rylee nodded, answering her phone. “It’s the precinct,” she mouthed.

  Kenzie rolled her eyes, finishing her wine.

  *

  Knock, knock, knock.

  “Officer,” Elizabeth greeted pleasantly. “Please, come in. If you follow me, I’ll show you where the burglar tried to get into my home.”

  “Lead the way, ma’am,” the officer said, stepping past the sofa, and into the bedroom.

  Elizabeth pointed. “See? See, Officer? Can you see where he tried to pry open my window?”

  Claire squatted, examining the sill. “I don’t see anything.” When she stood, she closed the blinds and backed Elizabeth to the wall. “I think you made a false report just to get me here.” She pressed their lips together, kissing her roughly. “I saw how you looked at me when you opened the door. I think you called 9-1-1, wanting an officer to come out and fuck you. I’ve been around. I know what women like you want.”

  “I don’t want anything, Officer,” Elizabeth said innocently, “just to have you catch my burglar.”

  “Sure,” Claire said, shoving her onto the mattress.

  “I’ll call the police,” Elizabeth squealed. “I mean it. You’d better not touch me.”

  “I am the police,” Claire growled, lifting two pairs of shiny handcuffs from her belt. Hinged and heavy-duty, they offered superb holding power. Initially, she’d been reluctant to use them during sex, but when Elizabeth screamed with pleasure, pure and explosive as she secured her wrist that first time, she’d changed her mind. Anything that made her come that hard would forever be a part of their lovemaking. “On your back, bitch,” she ordered. “Arms wide above your head. Legs spread eagle. And you better grip those posts like your life depended on it.”

  “Please don’t hurt me,” Elizabeth panted, writhing beneath Claire’s weight as steel snapped around her wrists “No…Officer, please, no…I’m not a lesbian.”

  “Too bad,” Claire said, jerking Elizabeth’s nightgown above her hips, exposing her womanhood. She’d have ordered her to remove the garment but knew she wouldn’t. In the months they’d been together, she’d never, not once, seen her unclothed breasts or back. In time, she hoped she’d trust her enough to fully undress. “Raise your knees,” she barked.

  “No, oh please no, not inside me.”

  “You’ll take it and you’ll like it,” Claire snarled, getting into position to thrust powerfully. And her phone buzzed on the nightstand. “Shit, it’s the precinct. I’m so sorry.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “What if your parents get home early?” Abby asked, feeling trapped in a less than ideal situation.

  “Then, they just do,” Piper answered, turning the deadbolt. “They don’t always knock on my door when they get home, but if they do and we don’t answer, they’ll figure we’re asleep, and go on to bed.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Piper looked back on her way down the hall. “You worry too much. I tell ya, they won’t come in.” Six months older than Abby, she looked bad in her tight jeans and rimmed cap with her long dark hair swaying down her back.

  “And, you’re positive, one-hundred percent?”

  “Yes, little miss worry wart, I’m positive one-hundred percent.”

  Abby picked up her pace. “Because my mom, she’d march right in, not caring one iota that I might not be dressed.”

  “Violation of your privacy if you ask me,” Piper said, shutting her bedroom door behind them, assuring that it latched.

  Abby gnawed on her lip. “I don’t have privacy. Or freedom for that matter. I about passed out when my mom said I could spend the night.” She sucked in a breath, releasing it through a pucker. “But if she finds out we never went bowling, what we did instead, oh my God, am I ever gonna be dead.”

  “Stop worrying,” Piper repeated. “Nobody’s gonna die.”

  Abby’s stomach turned over. “I hope not.”

  Piper palmed her cheek. “Trust me, chick-a-dee, I know what I’m doing. I’m a pro at this kind of stuff.”

  “I trust you. It’s just—”

  “Look, if you’re scared—”

  “I’m not. I want to go.” She smiled, leaning in for a kiss on her lips. “I want to meet your squad. Really. I was just making sure we were covered.”

  “Okay. But if you’re gonna go, you gotta stop worrying,” Piper said, opening her bedroom window, “because you’re makin’ me nervous.”

  “I’ll stop. I promise.”

  “Oh, and you gotta stay back when I tell you to. And you can’t tell anybody where we go or what we do. It’s top secret, a paid job. You promise?”

  “Yeah, I promise. I won’t tell, and I’ll do just like you say to do. Don’t you trust me?”

  “I trust you,” Piper responded, stepping onto the roof. “If I didn’t, we wouldn’t be a ship.” She nodded toward the lower edge, helping Abby out. “Ladder’s right over there. Now, watch your step, chick-a-dee,” she added with a wink. “Don’t want you splattered on the walk.”

  *

  Kenzie hung up, disgusted by her lack of resolve. Late or not, she should’ve instructed Abby to come straight home. She dialed again, praying that Piper’s parents would answer their phones so that she could quiz them about the girls’ sleeping arrangements. Why couldn’t Abby have fallen for a boy instead of a girl? No way would she have allowed her to spend the night with him. She dialed again, irritated that Rylee had been called out, and wanting to discuss the situation. She deliberated taking a shower. Taking one used to be so relaxing. Her insides quivered, fingering the keypads of their ultramodern security system. Armed. You’re fine. Go up. Take your shower. Her senses heightened as she climbed the stairs. She removed her clothing, pulling the bathroom door around as she st
epped in. Before it clicked shut, their coonhound slipped in. “You’re a good boy, Buckshot,” she said, scratching his ears. It was as if he knew to keep her company; knew that she’d been afraid to shower without Rylee being home for a year; knew that this was only her third attempt since Joanna Grey had tried to kill her. She retrieved a sharp pair of scissors from the drawer, collected her cell, and took both items into the stall with her. If the bathroom door opened; if someone came in to hurt her; she’d hold the shower door shut while she dialed 9-1-1; and if they pried it open, she’d stab them.

  *

  Elizabeth had been so close, felt the earthquake rising from her center when the phone rang. Angry, she’d rolled over, listening for the click of the deadbolt. Then she got up, smoothed the bed-covering, and stepped into the bathroom, studying herself in the mirror. She removed her nightgown, palming her breasts and teasing her nipples until they stood erect. Look at you, aroused by your own touch. It’s disgusting, and you’ll be punished for it. She licked her lips, thinking about how Claire would finish what she’d started, hoping that it would be sooner rather than later. She’d perfected her technique, her moves identical in each sexual encounter. She closed her eyes, thinking about her: her tongue, how with a few flicks she could make her whimper; her teeth, how with a few nips, piercing tender pink flesh, she could make her tremble; how with her powerful, long fingers, penetrating deeply, she could reduce her to tears in the sweet rapture of orgasm. And distant recollections whisked her away against her will: to that warm afternoon when she should’ve been outside playing with the other little girls; to the soiled white linen she’d carried to the burn pile; to that day, not long after school was out for the summer, when he’d left her secret place filthy. She rummaged through her nail polish and lipstick, collecting two medium binder clips, and an oven timer. You know what’s coming, don’t you? I told you you’d be punished. She smiled, satisfied when her stomach summersaulted, holding the clips in an open position on each nipple. She licked her lips, feeling cool metal, and noticing her pupils. Bigger. You’re afraid, aren’t you? Maybe you should remember that next time—before you sin. Her pulse quickened, preparing to release her grip, knowing that when she did the spring-tight clips would latch onto her nipples; knowing that they’d snap shut with the force of alligator teeth; and knowing that in time, not too much time, they’d stop blood flow completely. She glanced at the timer, biting her lower lip. It won’t be long now. She smiled sadistically. Wait for it.