“Yours sounds delicious,” he said, “except for the asparagus. I bet if you asked, they’d put the ham and cheese between a couple of pieces of this bread, butter it up, and throw it on the griddle. Now that would be good.”
“But not healthy,” she said.
He raised his eyebrows. “Because eating half a loaf of bread and a pound of butter is healthy.”
“I did not eat that.”
“Did too.”
Mama tsk-tsked them, but her eyes shone with approval. “If I wanted to dine with my grandchildren, I would have invited them.”
Amara folded her hands in her lap. No easy way to approach this. “You and Wylie getting married or what?”
Starsky held his napkin over his mouth as he coughed breadcrumbs and his eyes watered. “Subtle, Alvarez. Way to ease into the interrogation.”
Wylie reached for one of the butter tubs. “Yes, we are. Haven’t set the date, but it’ll be soon.”
“I think we’ll have the ceremony in our backyard,” Mama said. “Unless you have any objections?”
Amara blinked rapidly as she glanced back and forth between them. “I, uh, no. No objections. When did you . . . I thought . . . I mean, I knew you asked him, but when?”
Wylie slathered butter on a slice of bread and set it on her mother’s plate. “We worked it out this afternoon,” he said. “Didn’t want to ruin a free dinner with all your jabber about it.”
Her brain bulged with thoughts and questions. “And you’re both okay with it?”
Mama nibbled at her bread. “What an odd question.” She turned to Starsky. “Is she like this at work?”
He held up both palms. “I invoke my right to remain silent.”
“You know what I mean,” Amara said. She scratched the back of her neck. “I don’t know how to ask this without sounding weird, but would you be getting married if, um, you, uh . . .”
“If I didn’t have cancer?” Mama said. “Yes. Maybe not so quickly, but”—she reached for Wylie’s hand—“he makes me happy.”
Yeah, but being happy wasn’t the same thing as being in love. Was it? “Well, okay then. When are you going to tell everyone?”
“Already did,” Wylie said. “At least as far as your brothers and sisters are concerned. Called them this afternoon.”
“So everyone knew before I did?”
“Not true,” Mama said. “Starsky didn’t.”
She rested an elbow on the table and massaged her forehead. “But everyone in the family knew? No offense, Starsky.”
Redness filled his pale cheeks. “I, uh, might have known too.”
She jerked her head upright. “Might have known? What does that mean?”
Wylie cleared his throat. “It’s possible I mentioned it this afternoon when I phoned him.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why did you call him?”
“To find out if he can keep a secret? Turns out he can.”
Her mother laughed and Amara’s emotions rose. She leaned away from Starsky. “So you’ve known about this since this afternoon? And you let me sit here nearly bouncing off the walls without saying anything?”
He shrugged. “Wylie said they wanted to be the ones to tell you.”
She playfully slapped his arm. “Nice to be the last to know. At least I can enjoy my dinner now.”
“Asparagus is not dinner,” he said. “You shouldn’t have filled up on bread.”
Wylie stared at Amara, then Starsky, then back at Amara. “You two getting married or what?”
Fire sped through Amara’s face and her skin tingled. She couldn’t look at Starsky. “Excuse me?”
“Fair question,” her mother said. “You asked us, now we ask you.”
She had a sudden urge to dunk her face into the pitcher of ice water. A notion surged to the forefront. Had Starsky known they were going to ask? One peek at his countenance, frozen wide-eyed, mouth hanging, no visible sign of breathing, told her he was as shocked as he was.
Wylie leaned forward. “Your mother and I have been talking. It’s obvious you two care for each other. Make each other happy. Got each other’s back. What else are you waiting for?”
Amara dabbed at her forehead with the napkin. “You’re making us very uncomfortable, right, Starsky?”
His expression hadn’t changed but a slight grunt escaped from his lips.
“Well,” Mama said, “we can see it even if you two can’t. Think about it. That’s all we’re saying. Love doesn’t always come with an engraved invitation. Ah. Here’s dinner.”
The waitress set their plates before them, made sure everything looked all right, then faded into the background.
“Looks wonderful,” Wylie said. He jabbed his fork toward Amara’s food. “That’s hardly enough for a baby bird. Want some of our lasagna?”
She shook her head and stared at the asparagus.
“Suit yourself.” He pointed at the untouched chicken parmigiana on Starsky’s plate. “You not gonna eat?”
“No.” He took a swig of water. “Not hungry.”
“That’s a first,” Wylie said. “Not feeling well?”
“I’m okay.”
Amara pulled her phone out and flipped it open. “Sorry, got a call coming in. Excuse me a moment?”
“I didn’t hear anything,” her mother said.
“On vibrate.” Do these things even have a vibration mode? She stepped out of earshot, turned her back to the group, and made exaggerated motions with her hands while pretending to talk. After what she deemed the appropriate amount of time, she slipped the cell into her pocket and returned to the table. Starsky’s eyes pleaded for his rescue.
“Got a break in my case,” Amara said. “Got to go.”
Starsky stood and shook his head. “Always happens, doesn’t it? I’ll get the waitress to box up our dinner.”
“I can handle this. You should stay. Finish your dinner.”
He licked his lips. “We rode together in my car, remember?”
“I’ll grab a rideshare. No problem.”
“Yeah? Good luck.”
“Why?”
He stepped forward and whispered in her ear. “Because you need the app or internet access to schedule a ride. I’m betting that gadget you call a phone has neither. Plus, I’ll tell your mom there was no call.”
“So? Who do you think she’ll believe?”
“And that you begged for a picture of me in my Speedo.”
She choked on her saliva and coughed into her fist before looking at her mother. “Starsky needs to go with me. He’s getting the car while I get our food boxed up.”
He nodded and jingled his keys. “Meet you out front. Throw some bread in with mine, okay?” On his way to the door, he caught their server, pointed at the table, and spoke briefly before hurrying outside.
The waitress reappeared with two Styrofoam boxes and packed their dinner, topping Starsky’s off with six pieces of bread. “That look okay?” she asked. “He said to fill it up. I can get some more from the kitchen if you want.”
Amara shook her head. “That’s plenty, thank you.” She kissed her mother’s cheek and bent toward Wylie. “Take care of her.” She kissed his cheek too and grabbed the flimsy food containers as she strode to the exit.
“Hey!” Wylie said.
She paused to look back.
“You said you were paying.”
She cupped her hand to her ear and shrugged. “Can’t hear you. Gotta run. Duty calls.”
37
Amara slid into the passenger seat of Starsky’s car and set the food containers at her feet. “Sorry about that,” she said.
“No sweat. That will cover this year’s aerobic workout for me.” He checked the rearview and pulled away from the restaurant. “Where to?”
No point in going home. It would be hours before the dinner’s flood of embarrassment receded enough for her to sleep. “Let’s drive by the Lucero residence and see if we can spot Dexter.”
“Sure, but even if
the dog is there, so what? If the kid is holding it hostage, you plan on calling in SWAT or something?”
She glanced out the window to hide her smile from him. “I wouldn’t have to tell them Dexter was a dog.”
“Amara, hey. That, uh, yeah. Tell me you’re joking.”
She chuckled and angled herself toward him. “Sorta. But if we do see Dexter and can grab him, think Haley would talk to us?”
He cut his eyes at her. “Can I tell you how many things about that question bother me? Let me make sure I understand this. Your plan is to dognap Dexter?”
“Not dognap. Rescue.”
“Semantics. So you rescue Dexter so you can hold him hostage to force Haley to talk? I seriously cannot wait for Dateline to get word of this.”
“No,” she said. “If we get him back, I’ll give him to Haley. It’ll have to happen quick though. Before Matias and Liam have a chance to react and find another way to keep her quiet.”
“You that certain she’ll talk?”
“Not at all. But if she doesn’t, we haven’t lost anything. Besides, the dog’s probably not even there. Wouldn’t make sense to have it where people would look.” A flash of distant lightning lit the dark clouds overhead. “They’d want to keep Dexter on the move. Make it hard to track him down.”
“You do remember we’re talking about a dog?”
“Keep him mobile. That’s what I’d do.”
He straightened in his seat. “And I’m supposed to be the odd one. You going to give me directions or do I go straight until we’re south of the border?”
“Take a right at the next light,” she said. “Be a long time before I want to go back to Mexico.”
Huge drops of rain randomly pelted the windshield by the time they parked down the street from the Lucero residence. The subdivision of look-alike homes on miniature lots was deserted as people abandoned the outdoors for the security of their houses. At each end of the short road, a streetlight illuminated a circle of brightness.
Starsky checked the weather app on his phone and shook his head. “Ten minutes max before the bottom falls out.”
She scanned their surroundings and stepped out of the car. “Come on. We’ll walk past the front of the house and then circle through the alley.”
He joined her on the sidewalk. “You realize this has all the makings of a bad comedy? We’re about to get drenched while going on a spy mission to kidnap a dog that might not even be there.”
Her heartbeat sped and she held out her hand. “Might make us look more natural?”
His breathing accelerated as he closed his hand around hers. “Whatever it takes.”
The pair strolled past several houses, some with open curtains and visible activity, others battened down as if Fort Knox’s gold rested inside. The Lucero residence was one of the latter. Cracks of light seeped around the windows’ edges but gave no indication of who might be home. More importantly, no yipping.
“Dexter’s not there,” she said. “We’d hear him.”
“Maybe he’s asleep.” They walked past a couple more houses before he stopped and squeezed her hand, then bent toward her. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
She tilted her head upward. Was he going to kiss her?
“Hide,” he said.
“What?”
He pointed to a cluster of bushes a few houses away. “Hide on the other side of those.”
“You want me to hide?”
His eyebrows scrunched together and he released her hand. “Am I pronouncing it wrong? H-i-d-e. Hide.”
“What are you going to do?”
He turned toward Matias’s house. “Dumb and Dumber has nothing on us.”
“Do you need backup?”
He motioned emphatically to the bushes and resumed his journey.
She strode to the chest-high shrubs and stared as Starsky hurried up the Luceros’ walkway. He raised his fist, banged once on the door, and sprinted her direction.
A lightning flash lit the area for a millisecond, and he seemed to be running in slow motion, his wide-eyed, open-mouthed face cartoonish. She doubled over in laughter and sank to the wet ground. By the time he arrived beside her, she was on her side in a fetal position as spasms of giggles overwhelmed her.
He eased his head around the side of the bush to get a view of the home. “Shh. They’ll hear you.”
“I can’t”—another wave of hysteria arrived—“I can’t breathe.” She snorted and clenched her legs together. “I think I just peed a little.”
He covered his mouth as laughter convulsed him. “Worst date ever?”
Warmth oozed through her chest. Best. “Can you see anything?”
“Curtains moved, so someone’s there. Listen.”
The insistent high-pitched yip of a tiny, obnoxious dog filtered through the bushes to Amara. “You found Dexter.”
“We found Dexter.” He stood and held out his hand to help her up. “What do we do now?”
Amara wiped grass clippings off her pants. A low rumble in the sky built into an explosion of thunder. “What would you do if you had a dog and it was about to rain for a while?”
“Potty time,” he said. “We head around back. But remember, we’re cops. No climbing fences, no opening gates, no stealing the dog.”
“Observe and report. That’s the mission. If we see Dexter, I’ll phone Haley, and if she wants to come over and do something, well, that’s her choice. But if the dog somehow gets out of the yard, we grab it.”
He tilted his head and frowned. “Amara, what are you planning?”
“What? I promise not to do anything that might come back to bite us later.”
He stared upward and exhaled a long breath. “Would it be okay if I, uh, if I kissed you?” He dragged the back of his wrist across his forehead. “For luck, I mean?”
She licked her lips and massaged her thumb on his hand. “For luck. Make it quick.”
He bent forward, kissed her gently, and stood straighter.
She stood on her tiptoes. “One more. For me this time.”
Her heart pounded as he kissed her again, longer and stronger than before. She breathed heavily and waited for the lightheadedness to clear.
“Amara,” he said, “I don’t want to ruin our friendship. You know how I feel about you, but if there’s any chance that—”
“Don’t mess this up, Starsky.”
He shifted on his feet. “Do you mean don’t mess up what’s happening between us? Or don’t mess up the dog situation?”
She tugged him toward the narrow lane running behind the row of houses. “I’m still holding your hand, aren’t I? Figure it out.”
No streetlights reached here, and the standard six-foot-high wooden fence darkened each backyard. Most houses had a second story with blinds or curtains blocking the windows. On cue, yipping, followed by an outburst of profanity and a door slam, reverberated through the darkness.
They strolled toward the barking and slowed behind the Luceros’ home. Amara ran her hand on the fence and dragged her foot along the bottom as the dog shadowed them on the opposite side.
“What are you doing?” Starsky asked.
“Checking for holes or loose boards.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“How could you hear anything over that nonstop barking?” She stopped, took a step backward, and tapped her toe against the fence. “Here. There’s a hole and the board’s loose.” She squatted to get a closer look. “Too dark.”
“Wanna use the flashlight app on my phone?”
“No. Someone might notice.” She reached down and ran her hand around the hole. “Not big enough, but I think I can loosen it.”
She squealed and jerked her arm.
“Splinter?”
“No,” she said. “He licked my fingers.”
“That beast.”
She placed her ear close to the fence and stuck her hand through the hole. Dog slobber coated her fingers within seconds and she
scratched his head. “Who’s a good dog? Oh, yes he is. That’s a good boy.” She eased her hand back and grabbed the board. A gentle tug pried the wood far enough for Dexter to escape.
“I’m not seeing this,” Starsky said.
The yipping renewed with a ferocity they hadn’t heard. Dexter had gone into attack mode. Amara released the board and the dog yelped as it smacked him. “See what you did?” she said. “He was almost out.”
“How is this my fault? All I did was talk.”
“Well, don’t. He doesn’t like you.”
Another flash of lightning and peal of thunder sounded the alarm as scattered dime-size raindrops fell around them.
“Wait here,” Starsky said. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
“To grab my dinner. That’ll get Dexter out of there.”
She smiled. “Good thinking.”
He turned and jogged a few steps, then looked back. “You’re sure that’s Dexter, right?”
“Who else would it be?”
“I dunno. But if this was a movie, it would be the wrong dog.”
That’s true. Maybe this wasn’t Dexter. After all, she hadn’t seen him and didn’t all small dogs sound the same? No. That’d be too big a coincidence. Wouldn’t it? “Starsky, get the chicken parmigiana. And hurry.”
He trotted out of sight while she continued whispering and trying to soothe Dexter. After several minutes-that-were-probably-seconds-but-that-yipping-makes-time-stop, she tugged the board again and stuck her hand into the backyard. The dog barked a few more times, then his wet nose—she hoped that’s what it was—brushed her palm. “Good boy. Goooood boy.”
Starsky returned, opened the container, tore off a piece of bread, and gave it to Amara. “What about the chicken?” she asked.
“No way. That’s mine.”
His voice triggered another round of dog barking and the porch light switched on. “Get down,” she said.
He knelt beside her and leaned close. “If we get caught, you’re writing up the report.”
Several choice words echoed from the house encouraging Dexter to stop barking or he’d be spending the night in the rain.
“See,” Amara said. “It is Dexter.”
The door closed, but the light remained on.
Network of Deceit Page 20
