Bullseye (10 page)

THIRTEEN

O
nce again Mason was subjected to an angry audience with his former boss. The second time wasn’t any more pleasant than the first, especially with Karina’s boss and a few customers standing in a cluster in the corner, watching with fascination. A uniformed police officer brushed fingerprint dust on the open shelves, hoping for a set of prints that Mason doubted he would find.

“Maybe you two didn’t understand me yesterday.” Grierson glared first at Karina, and then switched to him. “I thought I told you to stay out of this case.”

Mason’s spine was already as stiff as a corpse, so he couldn’t stiffen any further. But he managed to bristle just the same. “You’re suggesting that we somehow invited this vandalism? C’mon, Sergeant, that doesn’t make sense.”

The man’s lips tightened. “It’s detective, and yes, that’s exactly what I’m suggesting. I might be tempted to think differently if the store had been robbed, or if anyone else’s things had been messed with. But those.” He pointed first at the plastic head and then at the scissors protruding from the picture frame, and his glare deepened. “This is clearly a warning to Ms. Guerrero and you. Unless you’re involved in something else—which I wouldn’t put past you—I have to assume the warning is related to her brother’s murder charge.”

Mason fumed at the man’s accusatory manner. Any number of sarcastic comments vied for airtime on his tongue, but he deemed it wise to hold them back.

After a quick glance in his direction, Karina spoke up. “The only thing we did after we left you yesterday was have dinner and go back to my place.” At Grierson’s unspoken question, she flushed. “I cut Mason’s hair, and then he went to his hotel.”

Grierson looked at him. “Which is…?”

“The Motel 6 over on César Chávez, near the airport.” He anticipated the next question and cut the detective off as he drew breath to ask it. “And no, I didn’t go anywhere else. I checked in, went to my room and watched television until I fell asleep.” He started to add that the desk clerk could verify his story, but didn’t bother to state the obvious. Grierson most certainly would check his statement.

After an awkward moment during which Mason was subjected to one of the silent scrutinizing stares he remembered very well from his days on the police force, Grierson turned away from him to face Karina. Despite himself Mason released the breath of air he’d been holding captive in his lungs.

“Ms. Guerrero, what are you involved in?” He nodded toward the faceless head in the chair. “This kind of stuff doesn’t happen without a reason.”

“I have no idea, Detective. I promise. Unless, like you say, it has something to do with my brother.”

Tears glistened in her dark eyes, but she returned Grierson’s gaze without blinking. In spite of the harsh words spoken at the detention center that still hovered between them, Mason admired her unflinching self-possession in the face of Grierson’s hard stare.

She’ll make a terrific courtroom witness for Alex. Her honesty shows in her face, in her bearing
.

Grierson apparently believed her, for the hard lines of his face softened. “I know how difficult this must be for you. You’re frightened for your brother, and now it seems as though whatever he’s involved with is also posing a threat to you.”

Mason thought she might take offense to the detective’s assumption that Alex was involved with something illegal—which even she would have to admit looked likely—but she didn’t react, except that a tear slipped over the rim of one eye and rolled down her cheek. Deep inside Mason, something twisted in response. It was all he could do not to reach out and dry her cheek with a gentle finger.

“That’s why it is so important that you talk to me, Ms. Guerrero. Not to your friends. To me. I need to know everything you know. Only if you’re completely honest with me can I give you the protection you need, and your brother the help he needs.”

He held her gaze with his, the strength of the connection between them so strong it was almost visible. Though he stood close enough that he could have touched either of them by leaning sideways, Mason felt like an outsider, like he might as well be in another room. He wanted to catch Karina’s eye, to caution her against confiding anything to this man who had far more training and experience in investigative procedures than she, or even himself for that matter.

He doesn’t really care. It’s a ploy, a trick. He’s making himself appear sympathetic in order to get information. And he’s really good at it.
Mason almost fell for it himself. The words were on the tip of his tongue, the information Brent had uncovered, his distrust of Alex’s freebie lawyer. Grierson had always been a jerk, and had not believed in Mason’s innocence during Margie’s murder investigation, but he’d never seemed even the slightest bit crooked. Maybe they should trust him.

Karina broke the stare-down with a trembling smile. “Thank you, Detective. I really appreciate your wanting to help my brother. I wish I had something to tell you. But honestly I don’t know what’s going on. I can’t imagine what anyone would want to warn me against.”

Grierson held her gaze a moment longer, then nodded. “And you’re positive nothing is missing?”

“Yes, I’m positive.” Karina leaned back to see around the uniformed officer. Her eyes moved, and then a crease appeared in her forehead. “No, wait. There is something missing. My gloves.”

“Gloves?” Mason asked. “You mean like a pair of winter gloves?”

“No, I mean like a pair of reusable latex gloves for coloring. Black.”

Latex. Mason exchanged a glance with Grierson, and they both sighed.

“You’re wasting your dust,” Mason said to the officer. “You won’t find any prints there. Your best bet is the door and the drawer handles.” The vandal would have touched both of those before finding the gloves. But the door probably had thousands of prints since this was a public business, and the drawer handles were thin metal loops which any thief worth his salt would have opened with a pencil or something that wouldn’t leave a print.

The officer paused, the bristles of his fiberglass brush poised above the head-shaped wig stand, looking to Grierson for direction.

The detective glared at Mason. “I’m giving the orders around here.” Then he shifted his gaze to the officer and eked out an order that sounded like the words tasted bad in his mouth. “Go ahead and finish with that, but spend some extra time processing the door and the drawer handles.”

Mason judged it wise to keep his face smirk-free.

Grierson turned back to Karina. “Try to stay out of trouble, Ms. Guerrero.” He looked pointedly at Mason and then back at her. His meaning was clear. Hanging around with Mason was definitely
not
staying out of trouble.

He started to walk away, but Mason stopped him. “Wait a minute. Is that all? Don’t you think you should give her some extra protection?”

The man’s lips went thin for a moment. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but I’ve already decided to alert the officers who patrol the area around her apartment and here. They’ll keep an eye out for anything unusual.”

Mason shook his head. “Not good enough. She needs dedicated protection.”

The detective blasted a laugh. “Out of the question. This clearly was not a threat on her life. It was harassment.”

He could hardly believe his ears. “Somebody blew up her car yesterday. Was that just harassment too?”

His voice rang in the small beauty salon, and one of the customers watching from the corner let out a loud gasp.

Grierson’s face took on the almost pleasant expression that Mason had long ago identified as his own peculiar brand of stubbornness. “The report on the car confirmed your suspicions that the fuel line was cut. That’s why I’d already decided to increase patrol around her. Now I’ll add additional patrol to her place of employment.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “If I were going to request dedicated protection, the one person I’d insist on guarding her against is you, Sinclair. I don’t care if you did just get into town yesterday. My gut tells me you’re involved in whatever’s going on, and you’re poison.”

He whirled and left the salon without waiting for a reply. Mason stood staring at his back through the front glass, his dislike for the man expanding by the second. The reference to Margie’s death was obvious, and it soured in Mason’s stomach like curdled milk. The guy had been a jerk then, and he was still a jerk now. But beneath the intense dislike Mason felt for his former boss was something else. Something stronger and even more sickening.

The guy might be a jerk, but what if he was right?

* * *

When all her belongings had been returned to their proper positions, Karina tackled the black fingerprint dust with spray cleaner and a cloth. She kept her back to Mason, who sat brooding in a chair in the waiting area, but couldn’t stop snatching glances at him in the mirror. With his brows gathered and sunk down over his eyes like that, he projected a palpable wall of anger that dared anyone to approach. The customers who came into the salon for a haircut avoided the empty seat next to him. Even Lana had stopped giving him flirty glances.

Karina had felt bad for him when Detective Grierson practically accused him of putting her in danger. That wasn’t fair. He was only here because she’d asked him to come. Even so, now that he was here she was sorry she’d ever called.

When had he become so hard to get along with? As a teenager and young man he’d been charming and energetic, the one who attracted all the attention. Strangers talked with him freely, and most of the time he managed to turn the conversation to his faith in the Lord. Not obnoxiously or aggressively, but naturally. Almost matter-of-factly, because his relationship with Jesus was an integral part of his personality, of who he was. Had the loss of that faith turned him into this surly, suspicious man who trusted no one and seemed determined to make sure everyone knew it?

And yet, beneath the surly exterior, she had glimpsed the real Mason, the one she had fallen in love with. She saw him more and more, especially when the two of them were alone. Those glimpses gave her hope, and fed a flame she wasn’t yet ready to admit existed.

“Honey, here you go. You can hardly tell at all.”

Karina jerked herself out of her thoughts with a start. Lana had been doing something at the front desk, and now approached holding out a picture frame. Karina took it from her hand. It was her license. A crease wrinkled the letters of her last name and a missing chunk made it nearly unreadable, but other than that, the paper had been restored.

“I taped it from the back,” Lana said. “At first I thought we might have to apply for another copy, but I think this one will be just fine.”

Karina ran a hand over the edge of the black frame. “Where did you get…?” Her gaze fell on the wall next to Lana’s
station. The place where her license had hung was empty. Tears blurred her vision. “Oh, Lana.”

The woman became brusque. “Now, don’t take on. I have another frame at home, so it’s not a big deal.” She took the frame out of Karina’s hand and stepped forward to hang it on the hook. Then she backed up to examine her handiwork with her head tilted to one side. “There. Now you’re back to normal.” She peered at Karina sideways. “Uh, you
are
coming back to work, aren’t you? I mean, I’d understand if this put a bad taste in your mouth.”

A guilty flush stained the woman’s face. Karina rushed to allay her fears. “Lana, this isn’t your fault. It’s my fault.” She stopped at the look of surprise on her boss’s face, and shook her head. “I mean, not because of anything I’ve done. It has something to do with José’s death, and Alex and I don’t know what else.” As she said the words, she realized that, in a way, she’d put Lana and her business in danger. Not by anything she’d done, but just by being employed here. Which was the last thing she wanted. “In fact, it might be better for you if I didn’t come back to work for a while. There’s always a possibility that whoever did this will come back, and the next time they might decide to trash more than my station.”

She couldn’t believe she was suggesting that she quit her job. Without the income this job provided—or more specifically, the tips her customers gave her—she’d sink financially. But neither could she be responsible for putting her boss in danger.

But Lana dismissed the idea out of hand. “Don’t be sayin’ anything of the kind. I’ve been meaning to call and have my alarm system turned back on. Shoulda done that a long time ago. And I’ve been thinking of maybe getting a dog, too. A big one that stays quiet during the day and barks a lot at night. I’d make him a bed right up front by the register, so anybody who walks by could look in the window and see him.” She put out a hand and awkwardly patted Karina’s arm. “I can’t do without you, honey. The customers like you better than me.”

Touched and relieved, Karina could only smile. “Thank you.”

The door opened. Two ladies walked in, chatting together, and joined two others who sat with Mason in the waiting area.

“Speakin’ of customers.” She lifted her head and called in a cheery voice, “There’s a little bit of a wait, but I’ll get you in as soon as I can.”

Karina glanced around the salon. “Where’s Gloria?”

“Pppbt.”
Lana let out a disgusted raspberry. “That wimp. Said havin’ the cops here aggravated her nervous condition, and she went home with a headache. I called Maria, but she can’t get here until four. But don’t worry. I can handle it.”

Now it was Karina’s turn to feel guilty. She couldn’t leave Lana with a waiting room full of customers. And besides, what else was she going to do this afternoon? Exchange verbal darts with Mason?

“You know what? I’d like to stay.” She grinned and said in a teasing voice that only Lana could hear. “I need to cut something. It’ll help me let off some steam.”

Relief lightened her boss’s features. “Well, if you’re sure.”

“I am.” Karina slid her gaze sideways, to where Mason sat slumped in his chair. “Just give me a minute.”

She crossed the floor, smiling at the waiting ladies, and stood by Mason’s chair. “Let’s talk.” Without waiting for an answer, she left the salon.