What the River Knows (19 page)

Chapter 40

“Isn’t that right, Aylward?” Bates’ voice jerked him out of wondering how Rica would treat him when he got home tonight. Horton, Fleming and Bates watched him as he blinked to jog his memory to what the conversation had concerned before his mind wandered off alone.

“Sure, Del. You’re the supervisor.” He grinned, hoping to pass the incident off.

Horton laughed, shaking his head, while Fleming just stared with her calculating gray eyes. Bates slapped his shoulder as he stood to walk past him. “I knew you’d agree that Marvin’s was the best place for lunch.”

“Always.” Scott stood, glancing at the time on his computer. Eleven-fifty. The last time he realized the time, it was eleven-thirty. He stretched, and Bates hung back, as Horton and Fleming disappeared through the door.

“Somethin’ goin’ on, boy?” With twelve years on Scott, Bates assumed the father role when it suited him.

Scott shrugged and shook his head. “Rica—”

“Rica is being a passionate, hot-blooded Latina, eh?” Bates smiled. “The best thing about a fight is the making up.”

Scott studied the worn floor tiles as he made his way to the door. “Not sure there’ll be making up this time.”

“Give it some time, boy. There will be making up.”

“I sure hope so.” He followed Bates down the hall, into the elevator, and out the front door in silence. His mind ran free again as they joined Horton and Fleming to walk the three blocks to the barbeque restaurant. Rica hadn’t come home Saturday morning or Sunday morning. Only his morning run Sunday along the north end of the river allowed him to hold it together. Not until eight o’clock Sunday evening did she walk through their door. Then he tried to show her the organized videos, the clean kitchen and neatly hung laundry, but she just shook her head.

“I don’t want to talk now, Scott.” She had gone into the bathroom to shower, then went into their bedroom and firmly closed the door. He slept on the couch, fitfully, until he awoke to the slamming door of her leaving for work. He had the uneasy feeling that this fight would not be fixed by flowers or dinner. This would take digging in and pushing her to talk. He might not like what he heard.

He nearly ran into his partner as Bates stopped before the door to Marvin’s. Horton opened the door, and Fleming stepped through. Bates turned to face him. “It’ll be okay, Scott,” he murmured. “Stop worrying.”

He stared at Bates. He hoped he was right.

****

“I tell you,” Horton waved a finger around the table to make his point. “The most horrifying crime scene I ever worked was—”

A buzz from Fleming’s left hip stopped the conversation as the diners in the next booth fled. She snatched her phone. “Fleming,” she answered crisply.

The men paused, taking bites of their ribs or pulled pork, hoping the call came from the lab. “Yes. Yes. I see. Thank you.” Fleming’s side of the exchange was brief, as she listened for several minutes. When she pressed the red button and laid the phone on the table, the men all watched her in silence.

She took a bite of her sandwich and chewed slowly, as her lips turned up slightly on the right. “So, fellas, how about going back to the jail to talk to Mr. James after lunch?”

Horton grabbed a curly fry. “Lab?”

She nodded, then glanced around to see who might be close enough to hear their conversation. “There was blood splatter on the boots from James’ apartment. It had been wiped off, but there was enough left to make a DNA match for both women.”

“Son of a bitch!” Horton slapped the table lightly. “And the print work?”

“They are still running prints from the apartment, but they have a couple that could be matches for the ones on the freezer door.”

“That would certainly make someone seem like a possible accomplice to be with James at the crime scene and his apartment.” Bates started to smile.

“Now if that person just has some of the other lottery tickets, we might have a good case.” If they could bring the killers to justice, maybe Amy and Mrs. Nice would give Scott some peace so he could sleep.

Chapter 41

Charlotte dropped into the chair in the employee lounge. Two more hours and she could slip off these shoes in her car on the way home. Right now, if she took them off, she might not get them on again. The other girls wore sneakers, but Charlotte enjoyed the looks she got from both men and women in her short skirts and high heels. She leaned her head against the wall. The pain in her feet was worth it, just as the other pain had been worth it.

She closed her eyes and remembered. The group of predatory women had come in nearly every Friday for a couple of months, always sitting in her section. The blonde with them had begun to shake off her unhappiness, smiling more frequently. Charlotte always made a point to pay special attention to her, and the woman treated her with kindness and respect. The hair might be blonde now instead of brown, but the eyes and the attitude hadn’t changed in a decade. She was slimmer and contacts had replaced the glasses, but Charlotte was sure of her identity—almost.

This particular Friday—she couldn’t believe it was only four months ago—the blonde wore a fitted blue silk sheath cut low in front and back. She cut a striking figure walking into the place, and many men stopped talking to stare. Charlotte zipped right up to their table, pad in hand to take their drink orders, though she had learned what most of them usually ordered. She saved the blonde for last, and the woman waited patiently, flashing her big smile.

“And for you, sweetie?” Charlotte gave her biggest smile in return.

“It’s Delia, hon.” Delia leaned on the table, looking up at Charlotte. “What do you recommend? I’m in the mood to try something new tonight.”

Charlotte tensed inside, though no one could have told. “Sangria’s always good, refreshing on a hot night like tonight.” She folded her arms below her breasts, the action drawing attention to the deep vee of the purple shirt. “Or tequila sunrise can be good.”

Delia tilted her head, a smile dimpling her cheeks. “What’s your personal favorite?”

Charlotte grinned. “Personally, I like Sex on the Beach.”

Delia laughed, throwing back her head in a way that accented the long line of skin from throat to the neckline of the dress. “By golly, that does sound good. Bring me one, and be ready for another one.”

“That I can do.” She struggled with the name. “Delia.”

It was a busy night at the Dragon, and Charlotte hustled for the next hour, bringing one more drink to Delia and her friends. Finally, she escaped to the lounge during a short lull. There she struggled with the memories, and the memories of the feelings, that she had kept hidden for more than ten years. Those ten years had wrought more changes, both physically and emotionally, in her than in Delia, but beyond a doubt, both of them had changed drastically. She could tell by the tenor of the background noise that the lull had ended, and she rose to resume her work.

Charlotte had taken two steps out of the lounge when the door of the adjacent ladies room opened, and Delia lurched out to bump into her. Charlotte put her hands on Delia’s shoulders to steady both of them. Charlotte held on a few seconds after they regained their balance.

“Do you recognize me?” She stared intently into Delia’s eyes.

“Recognize you?” Confused, Delia shook her head politely, but stopped when it threw her off balance again. “I don’t. The first time I ever met you was when we started coming in here a few weeks ago.”

“Go back a long time.” With effort, Charlotte forced her voice to resume the pitch she had worked for the past eight years to lose. “The last time we saw each other was the week after our junior year in high school, Mags.”

Mouth open in shock, Delia stared at her for a full minute. Then tears began to well from those enormous eyes. “Oh, my God!” She leaned forward to fold Charlotte in a hug.

****

Charlotte opened her tired eyes and sighed. The lull was over; time to go back to work. She glanced at the ladies room door as she passed it. She smiled, even as a tear tried to work its way out of her left eye. No fateful collision tonight; never again. She breathed deeply to compose herself. Two more hours, and then she would be on her way home to Devlyn. Her freedom to be herself had ended with Delia’s death.

Chapter 42

Seeing Rica’s SUV in their apartment parking lot as he pulled in made Scott feel better than he had in days. Maybe they could spend some time together. He bounded up the stairs and flung open the door. “Rica, honey.” He greeted her from the threshold where she stood in the kitchen. “I’m so glad you’re home.” He hurried across the room, talking as he walked. “We caught one of the Quick Shop killers, got enough evidence to charge him with murder, and—”

“That’s wonderful, Scott.” Her flat tone negated the words.

He stopped before he reached her. His mind stumbled over words he wanted to tell her, but fear held his tongue silent. She simply stood there, the counter between them, studying him with one eyebrow raised. Finally, with a deep breath, he took the bull by the horns. “What’s wrong, Rica?”

“Oh, Scott!” Both eyebrows drew together. “It’s us. We’re wrong.” A tear slid down her cheek, but she batted it away. “We’re just always on a different schedule, a different frequency, all the time anymore.”

“But, honey, we caught the killer.” He took a half-step toward her, his palms out in supplication. “Things will slow down now.”

“There’ll be another killer. Or maybe it will be a string of burglaries.” She stepped forward to grip the countertop with her fingers, those long, sensitive fingers, with finely shaped nails, that could drive him wild with just one touch. “There will always be something that pulls you away when I need you.”

“Need me?” He tipped his head to the left. “But I was late for a couple of get-togethers with your friends. It wasn’t like you broke a leg, and I left you at the hospital before you went to surgery.”

Her eyes flashed then, and the brows lowered. “See? You didn’t even realize how important it was to me that you be there.”

“How can I realize if you don’t tell me?”

“I shouldn’t
have
to tell you!” She slammed a hand on the counter. “You should know that when I ask you, it is important to me.”

“Rica, I’m sorry. If I’d have known—”

“If you’d known, you’d still have stayed on the case till it was solved.” Her face and voice softened for a moment. “That’s just you, Scott, and it’s not fair for me to expect you to change.” She looked down at the counter and traced a circle with her finger. “That’s why I’m moving out, moving in with Heather and John for a while.”

His heart stopped; his lungs forgot how to breathe. “But—”

“I don’t know that it will be permanent, Scott.” She looked up at him again. “I just need to think some things over.”

“But, Rica…” She didn’t stop him, but he didn’t know what to say. He forced air into his lungs. “How long?”

She moved from behind the counter, taking a half-step toward him, as if she wanted him to hold her. “I don’t know.”

He looked into her eyes, frightened by the determination he saw behind the tears that had yet to fall. Then he turned toward the bedroom. There, he saw three bags, packed and ready to go. She had evidently spent quite some time here today, getting ready for this. “Will you call me sometimes?” He faced her again. “Or can I call you?”

“Wait for me to call you.” She sniffled. “I won’t wait long before I call, I promise.” She took a step toward him, her hand out to take his. “I don’t want to hurt you, Scott, and I know you don’t intend to hurt me.”

His fingers tightened around hers. “I never want to hurt you, Rica.”

“I know, Scott.” She swayed toward him for a moment, and then she dropped his hand. “But we do hurt each other, and we need to stop it.” Turning, she walked past him into the bedroom to gather her bags.

He stood where she left him as if his feet had no will to move. Then he saw her struggling with the biggest bag, and he took it, and the next largest, from her. “I’ll get these for you.” His throat was so tight, the words barely came out.

She touched his cheek. “Thank you, Scott.” She gathered the smallest bag, rolling it behind her while Scott followed. “I know this is hard for you.”

“I think it’s hard for you, too,” he said to her back.
At least I hope it is
.

She paused at the door. “It is, Scott, it’s very hard.”

At the stairway, he stopped her. “Leave the bag, Rica. Go on down and get the car open.” He blinked. “I’ll bring the bags to you.”

She stared at him. “Okay.” She trotted down the stairs, and he carried the two smallest bags down, then went back for the big one. Then he rolled all three at once toward her car and loaded them in the cargo area. She slammed the hatch, and they stood there, awkward.

She stepped to the side to go around him to the driver’s door. He turned to be out of her way, then walked her to the driver’s door. “I hope you call me soon, Rica.”

She reached out to stroke his cheek. “It won’t be long, Scott.” Then she slid into her seat. He gently closed the door for her. She smiled at him, a smile he could tell she forced and didn’t feel. Then she turned the key, snapped her seatbelt, checked her mirror and backed out of her space. He stood in the parking lot watching through the shimmering heat waves as she pulled out onto the street, turned left, and disappeared from his life. Despite her words and the hope in his heart, his gut knew she was done working on them.

When the heat began to make him dizzy, he thought about the beer still in the fridge. It would feel good after the heat, might start to numb the loss knifing through his heart. He glanced toward the apartment building, already feeling the cool liquid soothing his throat. Then he looked to the right, toward the park and the tall cottonwoods that shaded the path that led to the trail along the river. The other salve to his pain would be to go for a run by the river. He wavered for a moment, then decided he would go for a run. There would always be the beer after the run, if he still needed it.

Chapter 43

Charlotte put down her cell phone and picked up a colored pencil to finish the sketch she’d been working on when Devlyn called. But her hand trembled so much that she knew she would ruin the sketch if she worked on it now. With a deadline of tomorrow, she couldn’t afford to start over. Harvey had her on the schedule tonight at the Dragon, so she would not be able to stay late at work to re-do the drawing. And Devlyn had ordered her straight home after the Dragon. She dared not disobey.