Ballistic (6 page)

Running through my
hotel room, I trip over my laptop and crash into the couch. Shaking it off, I grab my phone quickly because I can’t miss our weekly call. “Ow! Lo?”

“Hey you!” she says cheerfully
. “Got a minute?”

“I have two
, actually,” I tell her. “Both are reserved for you.”

“Wait, are you hurt?”

“I tripped, I’m fine. I’ve got nine more toes.”

“Max and I got married,” she squeals
.

“Married?” I squeal back
.

“Yes! He asked me and I said yes!”

I’ve never heard her this excited about anything. Jules always plays it cool. Her excitement becomes my excitement because she loves him that much. I can hear the truth of it in her voice. “I’m so fucking happy for you! Congrats!”

“Thanks!” she says
. “It was just the two of us at the courthouse, but when you meet him we’ll have a big party! We’ll be in town Thursday will you be around?”

“Shit,” I mutter
. “I have a lecture to pretend to care about. Friday?”

“We leave Friday morning,” she says
. “I have to work on Saturday. We’ll make plans soon?”

“Plans soon I promise,” I tell her
. “Hey Jules?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?”

“Loving someone like that?”

“It’s everything
, Lina.”

That night when I found myself getting bent over some stranger’s hood, I wondered if I’d ever have my own everything. When the random lies and tells me I was the best he’s ever had
, I decided I’d probably never have everything, but that I’d gladly settle for at least something even if, I hated myself afterward.

It’s not often I look confused, even less often that I
am
actually confused but, this qualifies. The house, like I said, is very sterile in appearance but, his wall of photos catches my attention on our way to the stairs. Heading over to it, I see it’s homage to all things Venessa. Ah, that explains a lot and it’s fucking creepy too. Although the two of them only have one photo together and they aren’t even touching, the wall is still a tribute to her. When I see the picture of her and Eminem, I just feel envious. Of course, she’d get to meet him being a kick ass DJ and all. Whoever Anthony is, he is clearly very much in love with a very taken Venessa. It makes no sense that he put Rogan in her path, but I sensed no lie, so maybe he did it because he knew she didn’t feel the same? Meh, who cares? I don’t. Not even a smidge. Judging by the fact that all of these pics were taken without her knowledge, but have captured the very essence of who she is, it’s a testament to their history and another reminder of why I’m better off alone.

Venessa is all the things I’m not. It shouldn’t bother me that he’s clearly in love with her
, but it does. I can’t lie to myself, but a girl can dream right? What I wouldn’t give for someone to see me like that. Jealousy is not an emotion I spend much time with because it’s useless, but it’s running through me so it’s best to cut my losses and drink it off. Clearly, I’m just a replacement. A means of giving his heart’s desire the ultimate gift.  He would stop at nothing, even using me to give her the justice she still searches for. For her though, I do it. I’d get used again to make
her
happy. Knowing that I wasn’t what he wanted, but my skills were what he needed, really sucked a dick. Grabbing my bag off the floor, cell phone charger and an extra pack of cigarettes, I follow him upstairs, then toss it all on his bed. Modesty has never been my thing and I’m working against the clock, so I change in his presence not really caring if he looks or not, but secretly hoping he does. He can’t have my goodies, but I’ll let him look in the window. He can lick the fucking window for all I care too. I’m not about to be his lay-a-away option. Tossing what I don’t need back into the bag, I approach him to sort this out.

“Yeah so this is
your
room,” I say, fastening my bra. “Where will you be sleeping?”

“Next to
you.” He groans and inside I chuckle. Yep, he totally licked the window.

“Is this a joke?
You know, like Punk’d only Ashton Kutcher is getting a mani and you’re filling in?”

“I want you close to me
. I like you close to me. That way we both sleep well and when you wake with a nightmare, I can help you through it, like I did last night. We’ll help each other.”

The second I hear
nightmare I tense up. Shit, red alert, he knows. Not cool. “Well, I have to go. I don’t do sleepovers.”

“Don’t Lina,” he warns
in a firm voice. “This is where you belong. Here, with me. Your nightmares are nothing to be ashamed of. You can trust me.”

Suddenly my phone goes off and I check my message to see that I do in fact
, have to go. “My entire life is filled with things to be ashamed of, and I have pics to prove it. Trust you? I don’t
know
you. I also don’t want to know you, so trust plays no part here. You want this for her? I’ll play along for a bit because you’re telling the truth. Right now though, I need your keys,” I say, sticking my hand out. “I just got a case and this is one of those parties I go to alone.”

“
Let’s go then, I’ll drive you.”

“Anthony…”

“Unless you prefer walking? I only live twenty-five minutes away by freeway. How long is that on foot? I’d say judging by your foot size that would put you there approximately, next Thursday.”

“
Man, you’re a pushy fucker. You’ll drop me at my truck after?”

“Yes and while you’re working
, I’ll clean out your room. Where were you staying this time?”

“I was in between,” I say
, rolling my eyes at his having an answer for everything. “Everything I own is in my truck.”

“
Perfect,” he says, leading me out to his car. “Tonight I’ll even cook for you to celebrate our partnership.”

I had not a word to say as we headed downtown.
Dropping me off at the scene, I grab my things and approach the lead detective. The guy is indifferent to me and I expected as much. No matter how long you’ve been in this business, brain matter gets to you. Especially when it’s that of an officer. That kind of mess makes a man think. Kneeling down, I see he was shot execution style. He was forced to his knees and the shooter had faced him. The last thing this man saw was the face of his killer. The question is why he was shot in broad daylight in the heart of the city. That’s risky business even here. Questioning the officers called to the scene is useless. There’s no need to inquire about witnesses. There weren’t any because the citizens want no part of this shit and why should they? It’s not like anyone listens to them or helps out when they need it. People are tired of being fucked over, so they stayed to themselves, policing their own streets. Not every cop is a bad cop. Most
want
to help but, there isn’t enough of them to go around.

For the most part, cops here
aren’t seen as heroes. They are seen as chumps. Fair or not, that’s what happens when the people you’re supposed to protect don’t trust you. I’ve got a murder scene with no suspects, a dead cop who’s been on the force less than two years but had a clean record and zero evidence.

F
our hours later my answer was simple.

Someone knew what they were doing. No casing, no print
s and no witnesses.

Someone wanted our attention.

They got it.

The DPD wouldn’t call me in unless they were doing damage control or
they had a serial. I firmly believe we have both and that this murder is a warning. Not like the captain would tell me if it were. I’m just spitballing here, but I trust my gut. Gathering my data, storing my camera’s memory card, I leave the scene letting the lead detective know I’ll be in touch with the captain, the very last man I want to give answers to. Also, the very last man that wants to hear what I have to say. Digging in my pocket, I retrieve Anthony’s number and text him for a pick up. Yeah, I saved his number, what of it? I knew he was close because I felt him watching me and thought it’s hard to admit, his prescene calms me. I’ve come to rely heavily on it. When I am back in his car heading toward my truck five minutes later, I know this guy is under my skin.

Not only is yummy, h
e’s punctual too; you can’t get mad about that.

When she took a break from her set, I followed her to the back locker room and annoyed her like I always did. “Another big crowd,” I told her, tossing her a water.

“Looks like it
, yeah?” she said, taking a drink. “Let me guess, story time?”

Sitting across from her
, I nod. “I can’t help it,” I tell her. “I can’t believe she’s a real person.”

Giving me a small smile
, she shrugs. “Well, she is,” she says checking her phone. “Here’s one for you…eleventh grade, right? We’re at lunch when this big bitch plows Lina over and walks off laughing like she didn’t see her. Lina jumps on a chair and spider monkeys on her back. The girl tried flinging her off forever, but she wouldn’t let go.”

“Then what happened?”

“Oh well, then Jules got the troll in the back of the knees so Lina wouldn’t hurt herself climbing down.”

“The girl was that big?”

“Uh no,” she chuckles. “Lina is that small.”

Grabbing her phone
, she scrolls through then hands it to me. “That’s her next to Macy. Jules is the redhead and Lina is—”

“The beautiful blonde,” I whisper to myself
, sliding my finger over her picture.

“Well
, that was fun and creepy,” she says, taking her phone back. “Later, Tony.”

“Yeah
, later,” I mumble, wondering why I feel the need to hunt a woman I’ve never met but, knowing I would just the same.

Staying several blocks up, I park and walk as close to the scene as possible without detection. Watching her work is an easy way to get lost. She doesn’t say much, but she takes everything in with knowing eyes. I’ve heard stories about how she works but until you’ve seen it, you’d never believe it. The men on the scene also watch her work and as much as it irritates me, I get why they can’t stop staring. Few women are built like she is. Even fewer own it the way she does too. I also don’t know of any who can do what she does and look that beautiful doing it. She deals in death and deceit. That’s not easy for even the most seasoned in this business. No one approaches her directly, although based on how she talks to herself and how zoned out she is, I can’t imagine she’d notice anyway.

My phone rings
but I hesitate to answer. I didn’t want to miss a second of watching her. “Is she on the scene?”

“She is,” I reply blandly
. “She looks to be wrapping up.”

“Keep her close and safe,” he says
, “I want to know what she knows.”

“When I have something to report
, I’ll report it.”

“See that you do.”

“You need her as much as I do,” I remind him. “Don’t get it in the way. If you do, Venessa will kill us both.”

“I couldn’t be any farther away if I tried!” he argues
. “Do your job and do not tell me how to do mine.”

When she starts to store her camera
in her bag, I see she’s wrapping up. Making my way back to my car it isn’t’ a full minute before I get a text asking for a pick up. So she saved my number, then. This is promising.

Disconnecting the call and m
aking it to her quickly, she stores her bag and climbs in with zero fuss. She smells of fresh air and I can’t help but inhale her. She seems oblivious, but I don’t care, I keep doing it. “Are you sniffing me?”

“I am.”

“After I came from a crime scene, you’re sniffing me?”

“I believe I made it perfectly clear that I was
. May I continue?”

“So you like the smell of
abandonment?”

“
I don’t even know what that means but, I think that is your subtle attempt at pushing me away. I can’t help myself when you smell like the outdoors.”

“I
was
outdoors.”

“The crime scene,” I
ask, changing the subject because she just seems ‘off’. No witty banter, no cutting remarks either. She’s shutting down on me. “Do you have any leads?”

“Get me to my truck
please. I can’t talk about this right now.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Both,” she says, looking out the window while I drive. “I need my truck and to decompress. What time is dinner?”

“What is this
, Lina? I just told you we’re sticking together. Trying to run already?”

Turning toward me as we pull in the lot
, she sticks her hand out requesting her keys. “I don’t lie, Anthony. I have no reason to. You ask me a question and most of the time you’ll get an answer. I need to get my head right and I don’t want company when I do it. One more time, when is dinner?”

Grinding my jaw
, I answer her. “Seven.”

“See you at seven,” she says
, getting out and throwing her bag over her shoulder. “Thanks for the lift.”

“Your things are still in your truck, I didn’t have a chance to get them
,” I call out.

“I know,” she whispers
, “You were too busy watching me.”

Closing the door she walks slowly to her truck, looks it over
, then climbs in. I wait for her to make sure she’s safely away, but she puts her arms across the steering wheel then sets her head down. When she doesn’t move, I debate whether or not to drive away.

She’s not okay.

Parking in the lot next to her, I tap on the window startling her. She surprises me when she hits unlock and lets me in.

Also surprising
, since I half expected her to flip me off or run me over.