Like Arrows (Cedar Tree #6) (17 page)

"This is awesome!" I blurt out when I look at the mannequins scattered around the store in all shapes and sizes. Both Emma and the plump sales lady smile at my outburst.

"Hi, I'm Leslie," the woman says. "Why don't you have a look around and if there's anything you need to know, ask me. We have tall, regular and petite sizes in most items and certain things are grouped by body shape."

"I'm in fucking awe, pardon my French," flies out of my mouth when Emma and I start moseying around. Emma bursts out in a deep belly laugh, so infectious, I have no choice but to join her.

"Never would I have guessed you knew how to swear," she says, a smile still playing on her face.

"Oh, I know how, I just rarely do," I admit. "Here though, I feel like I can totally let it all hang out. This is
such
a great place. I don't feel I have to make myself 'small' to blend in. But I'm sorry about the swearing."

Emma's eyes on me have turned pensive. "I'm afraid you and I are gonna have to have some talks," she says seriously. "I have more than just a few years on you and you'll have to forgive me when I feel the need to impart some of my hard-earned wisdom on you."

"Okay?" My tentative reply makes her smile.

"Just be prepared to get a good swift kick in the booty, every time you hold back the real you. Promise you'll not suppress a damn thing today. Enjoy it with me without worrying about whether you can or you should, just grab on. Got me?"

I'm actually not quite sure I do, but I nod anyway. I'm gonna try and go with the flow.

I start roaming the racks around me, completely lost in the vivid colors and gorgeous materials. My colors of choice have always been black or grey. Occasionally I would 'dare' to venture into a dark navy or brown, but actual color? Very rare and those pieces hang mostly unworn in my closet. But I'm going to Vegas—and black in Vegas is just...wrong.

"Honey," the kind voice of Leslie has me turn around. She's standing with her arms folded, hip cocked and her face wearing a lopsided grin. "You do realize you're in the wrong section, right? This is for apple-shapes, which you're not. You have a lot of shape you should be happy with. I'm thinking somewhere between hourglass or pear."

I look down at myself and back up at her, not quite understanding. She reaches out, grabs my hand and pulls me in front of a mirror in the section where Emma is browsing around. Stepping behind me, she puts her hands on my shoulders. "What do you see?"

I shake my head to clear it. "What do I see? I see me?"

"When you look at your body, what do you see?"

I snort. It's a funny question, especially because I don't look at my body. I avoid it at all times. Even when I accidentally catch a glimpse, I turn away from the mirror quickly. So I tell her, "Hardly anything. I avoid it." 

Her head tilts to the side, observing me quietly. "You shouldn't avoid it. You've got it going on with all these rich curves. Look here." She lifts my arms up to the side and sets her hands on my hips. "You've got these hips that are made for showing off. A nice long curve from your knees all the way to your waist, where you dip in. You've got a waist. Apples don't have waists. They need clothes that make it look like they have one. But you, you've got one, right here." She grabs me firmly where she claims my waist is. With her hands on there I can see I actually do have a bit of an indent. Hmmm. "Now from the waist up, you have a set of knockers that when displayed properly, would knock any man off his feet."

"She's not lying." Emma is leaning on her walker, watching us. "You hide your shape."

I step away from the mirror and turn to face them. "I don't, I hide my rolls."

Wrong thing to say. Emma squints her eyes and Leslie clucks, shaking her head.

"Honey, there'll be no hiding here and those are not rolls. We call them curves and we're gonna show those babies off. Now come with me."

An hour and forty-five minutes later, feeling more like a full day, I dump my selections, or rather, Emma and Leslie's selections
for
me, on the counter. Soft flowy tops, three quarter-sleeved A-line tees in three colors, some stretchy jeans with bootcut legs that are so comfy, I want to live in them, and finally, black shoes and a dress. I haven't worn a dress since I was twelve years old and my mother forced me into wearing one for my First Communion. An experience that caused me to stay far away from dresses, and church, ever since. Leslie picked it out, telling me every woman needs an LBD—little black dress. The only good thing I saw when pulling it into the dressing room with me, was that it was black. It took Emma and Leslie half an hour to convince me that the dress was made for me. Fifties retro style, with a fitted bodice ending right under my breasts and a roomy skirt that falls right on my knees. A deep swooping neckline with a saucy little slit for some added cleavage and straight three-quarter sleeves. I had a hard time looking away from my dimpled knees, but when Leslie put some black, very narrow black pumps on my feet with a slightly blunted tip of the toe and reasonable heels so I won't break my neck on them, I was sold.

-

"T
hat was the most fun I've ever had shopping," I tell Emma honestly when she drops me off at my house, with my four bags stuffed full of purchases. "I'm in desperate need of some tea, though. Would you care to come in for a cup?"

"Would love to. And I had a blast too. Shopping is not usually something I enjoy, but when I discovered that place a couple of years ago, it became much less painful." She chuckles at her own words.

We end up outside on the back deck with our coats on so we can enjoy the warm afternoon sun, a steaming cup of tea in our hands.

"So I'm curious," Emma starts, turning to face me. "You mentioned something about that sexy black number Leslie forced you into—which by the way, looks stunning on you. That was the first dress you've put on since you were twelve? What's the story with that?"

The question has me wince and I take a quick sip of my tea, delaying the answer, which would expose more of myself than I've ever been comfortable with. Emma patiently waits, and nothing about her suggests she'd be anything other than understanding. I take a deep breath and  a leap of faith. 

"My mother insisted I wear this hideous dress for my First Communion. So unflattering that some guy in church compared me to a bride on her way to a shotgun wedding. Mom was angry with me, although I could never figure out the reason why. So every time my mom tried to force me into a dress after that, I threw a tantrum. Vowed never to wear one again. Instead I started wearing anything black and oversized to her abject horror." A sour little snort escapes me when I think of the way she would scold me for not even trying to be pretty. I shrug my shoulders in an attempt to shake it off. I promised myself I was done with that—done with letting it spoil the gain I made this morning alone.

"I see," Emma says quietly and even with sparing her most of the details, I believe she does.

We sit quietly for some time, sipping tea, thinking our own thoughts, while watching Boo chase imaginary flies.

M
al

"Drew just called," Gus says the minute I walk into the office.

"You're going to want to head over to Kim because he's on his way there. A neighbor called the cops early this morning, reporting a possible break in at her place. Cops found the door broken open and her place rifled through. Took them a while to figure out this was possibly connected to the murder and so Drew didn't find out until this afternoon. He wanted to know where she was, Mal. I had no choice but to tell him. You know he's a good guy."

A good officer of the law, yes. A good guy, I'm not so sure.

"I'm on my way," I tell Gus before heading back out the door.

"Call me when you have a chance, we'll talk about moving up this Vegas excursion," Gus yells after me and I wave my hand in acknowledgement.

-

I
'm surprised to find Emma's SUV in the driveway behind Kim's blue Honda. I end up parking on the street and walk up the drive when I can hear voices trailing from the back of the house. I recognize both Kim's and Emma's. Instead of going in, I decide to intercept Drew before he has a chance to barge in like a bull in a China shop. Standing there, leaning against the side of the house, I can't help picking up some of the conversation from the backyard and what I hear angers me. Additional evidence that her mom is a piece of work, and all the more reason for me to prove to Kim how wrong that woman was.

The moment Drew's patrol car pulls in tight to Emma's bumper, I'm up on my feet and approaching him. He shakes his head on a little smile when he sees me coming. Bastard.

"Are you trying to piss me off?"

"Doesn't take much, apparently," the smartass fires back.

"Something happens to my girl's place and you don't think to call me first? I'm gonna take that as a challenge."

"Keep your shorts on. Gus mentioned you were on your way in when I called to notify him. I didn't feel the need to double up our efforts in getting word to you. As for '
your girl,
' did you have a chance to talk to her?"

"No. I wanted a chance to get some more information first." I consciously let go of the anger I've nursed since getting the news.

"Original call came in at five this morning. On duty officers went to check it out, found the side door kicked in. They gained entrance and found the place tossed."

"How bad?" I want to know.

"Just came from the house. Looks like a mostly methodical search. The tossing part is mostly pillows thrown around, contents of drawers and cupboards pulled out. And they emptied her freezer. That's what tells me they were looking for something specific."

"You think her boss mentioned something? Right before they shot him? Doesn't make sense, they would've come after her sooner," I point out.

"Maybe. Could be he told them he had left information with someone in case anything happened to him, trying to save his ass. First place they'd look would be close family. He has a sister in Houston I talked to earlier this week about the release of his body by the coroner. She wants to bring him back out there for burial. I haven't heard anything since but it's possible someone's been sniffing around her, got nothing and is moving on to the next candidate. His assistant."

It's possible. And with Kim not showing up at her house for days, it would make them impatient and possibly reckless.

"Anything traceable? Fingerprints, tire tracks?"

"Still working on that. We do have a pretty decent description of the car from the neighbor who called in. Said it was a maroon Ford Edge, looked brand new."

I nod, taking in the information. "Figure it's a rental?"

"Likely. I've got someone checking car places to see if anyone rented it out." Drew looks at me, his head tilted to the side. "You think maybe it's time to talk to her now?"

Before I have a chance to answer, the side gate opens and Boo slips through, bounding up the porch steps to try and jump on me. Following closely behind are Kim and Emma.

"Talk to me about what?" Kim asks Drew right away, alarm etched on her face. I leave it to him to answer, but step down the porch and put my arm around her in support right away. Her face lifts briefly to me and I give her what is supposed to be an encouraging smile, but it doesn't take the panic from her eyes.

"There was a break in early this morning." Drew holds no punches. "Your neighbors called it in."

Immediately she tries to pull away from me, but my hand grabs her far shoulder, preventing her from moving too far. "My neighbors? Are you... you mean at my house?"

"It doesn't look like much, if anything, was taken, but they left a mess." Drew informs her, looking apologetic. "We have some good leads based on the information your neighbor was able to give us, but I'm thinking it's good you're staying here for the time being. Best not to go anywhere for a bit."

This is when I jump in. After half a word from Gus, I already know he's wanting her out of harm's way and set up in Vegas until we can get a decent grip on this case. "She has plans to head out of town next week, and I'm thinking those plans just got moved up by a few days, Drew," I tell him firmly, before looking down in her face. "Gotta get you packed, babe. That little trip of yours is gonna start earlier than anticipated."

One look at Emma and it's clear she's clued in when she gives me a nod and pulls out her phone. Dialing either Gus or Katie before she steps off to the side a little.

"I don't know if—" Drew starts before I cut him off.

"Not staying here until we have a good idea of what we're up against," I say firmly, holding his glare.

"I have to insist she does a walk through of the house. We've gotta know if anything is missing," he fires back.

"Don't like it, but I hear you. We'll be there at nine tonight so we can get her in and out under the shadow of darkness. No lights on until we get inside and all blinds closed. Don't need to make things easier."

With a curt nod, Drew turns to Kim. "I'm sorry, honey. We'll get this sorted—I promise."