What's Done in Darkness (22 page)

Of course, he didn't.

I went upstairs about an hour later and found a slip of paper stuck in my door. I pulled it out, opened it, and read:

Christian's not here. I'm worried.

“Now you're worried?” I asked sarcastically. Crumpling the note as I entered my room, I couldn't help hoping that Christian had come to his senses and left. Katrina had some serious issues.

But as much as I hoped that, I was certain that he would be back by the morning and he and Katrina would have incredible makeup sex.

Although after Katrina's behavior last night, if Christian had even a semblance of a brain he would be gone.

And never come back.

*   *   *

I was asleep in my hotel room when the sound of frantic knocking on my door jarred me awake. At first, I thought I was having a bad dream. Then, in my barely conscious state, I was seized with panic, fearing that someone was trying to break into the room.

But then I heard: “Jade! Open up!”

Katrina?

The pounding continued, and I scrambled out of the bed and opened the door.

“Jade, he's not back,” Katrina said without preamble.

I had been jarred from sleep and wasn't entirely coherent. “What?”

“Christian. He's not back.”

“What time is it?” I asked groggily.

“About quarter to six.”

“Fuck, Katrina.” My brain was slowly waking up, and I couldn't contain my anger. “Why would you come to my room at this time in the morning?”

She bit down on her bottom lip, and that's when I saw that her eyes were puffy and misted with tears. She'd been crying. Was she really this worried? Or was it simply the aftereffects of the alcohol that had her so emotional?

“I—I'm sorry,” she said. “But I'm worried.”

I felt bad for my harsh reaction. “It's early,” I told her. “I'm sure he's fine.” And then, “Maybe just making you sweat for what you did. Last night was pretty crazy.”

Hugging her torso, Katrina nodded. “I was so stupid.”

“That's a gentle way of putting it.” Perhaps if it had been later, and I hadn't been jarred from sleep, and
she hadn't
deliberately sabotaged my night with Brian, I could sugarcoat my feelings over Katrina's behavior. But she needed a reality check, big-time. “What were you doing, Kat? Playing some sort of bizarre mating game with Christian? To make him jealous and cause serious drama? Is the sex only good when you two are fighting?”

Her face crumbled. “Oh God. What if he's found someone else?”

Then he's not as dumb as I thought,
was the thought that popped into my mind. But I said, “I'm sure he'll be back. That's what you told me at the club yesterday, remember? That Christian always comes back.”

Katrina nodded, but her expression said she wasn't entirely convinced.

“Look, I've got to go back to bed. But call my room or come back if you hear anything. If he returns to the room and he's angry, feel free to come back here,” I added, acting more gracious than I felt. But I had a few more days with her here in Mexico, and I didn't want there to be tension between us. “In fact, if you want to sleep in the extra bed, you're more than welcome.”

Katrina shook her head. “No, that's okay. I'd better go back to my room. If Christian comes back and I'm not there, I don't want him to be angrier. I think our stupid fight has played itself out.”

“I'm sure it has,” I agreed.

Katrina turned to walk away but then suddenly faced me again. “I caught him sexting an ex.”

“What?” I asked.

“That's why I was … trying to make him jealous last night. He'd been sexting an ex-girlfriend in England. Obviously, I was pissed. So I just wanted to make him jealous, too.”

I looked at her—and didn't believe her.

I'd seen her and Christian together from the time we left Key West, and I hadn't detected a hint of conflict. They'd been amorous until the time we got to the restaurant.

If Katrina had caught Christian sexting, surely I would have seen some anger on her part before her antics at the club.

“I just wanted you to know,” she said. “So you don't think I'm a total bitch.”

I covered my mouth as I yawned. “It's fine,” I said. Obviously, she was trying to make herself look better by coming up with a lie to explain her behavior. But I wasn't about to get into it with her. “Go back to bed. I'm sure that by the time you wake up, Christian will be back, and you guys will work things out.”

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

My eyes popped open when I heard the pounding on my door. For a moment I wondered if I'd been dreaming about what had happened earlier when Katrina had come to my door.

But as I lay still, listening, I thought I heard the sound of sobbing. Then the pounding started again.

Throwing the covers off, I looked at the digital clock. It was ten forty-three. Time to get a strong coffee if I was going to have to deal with more drama today.

With a sigh of exasperation, I went to the door. I could guess what was happening. Christian wasn't back. And Katrina was beside herself over that reality.

But the truth was, I wasn't surprised. I could only imagine that after last night Christian realized that he didn't want to end up in jail over a woman who was intentionally pressing his buttons.

I opened the door a crack, my lips parting to tell Katrina that she needed to calm down. But before I could speak, she did.

“He's dead!” she shrieked.

A moment passed. Then another. Time seemed to have slowed down. I blinked, certain that I hadn't heard her say what I thought she'd said. “What did you say?”

Katrina pushed herself into the room, then spun around to face me. “He's dead, Jade! Someone killed him. Oh my God!”

A cold chill swept over me. I heard the words now, loud and clear, but there was a disconnect. I couldn't comprehend them. “Who?” I asked. “Who's dead?”

“Christian!”

I shook my head, not believing what she was saying. “Kat, if he isn't back yet, maybe he's not coming back. Your fight last night … it was major. I'm sorry, but I can understand if Christian has had enough.”

“Listen to me, goddamn it! I just got off the phone with the police. They found Christian's ID. That led them to the hotel, and to me. His body was found.…” Her voice cracked. “He's dead, Jade. And it's all my fault!”

The police? She'd spoken to them? My chest constricted and my head swam. This wasn't Katrina just being paranoid, which had been my initial thought. I had assumed that in her quest for drama she had created some scenario where something bad had happened to Christian since last night, as opposed to the fact that he'd come to his senses and left her in Mexico.

“You talked to the police?”

“Yes!” She sounded hysterical.

“Kat, this doesn't make any sense.” My mind refused to accept her words. Just yesterday, we'd arrived in Mexico. How could Christian be dead?

“I spoke to the police, Jade,” she reiterated. “You think I'd come in here and make up a story like this?”

“No, of course not.” I drew in a breath but found it hard to breathe. It was like a black cloud had suddenly enveloped the room. “They're absolutely sure?”

Katrina moved toward me now, wrapped her arms around me, and started to sob against my shoulder. I felt odd, cold, consumed with disbelief.

“Oh God, Katrina.” I gasped, the news finally seeming to hit me like a sledgehammer to the gut. “How?”

“He was found … he was found … behind … he was behind the club.” Katrina struggled to get the words out. “His throat—his throat was slashed. Cut from ear to ear.”

She croaked, then went to my bed and collapsed, her despair overwhelming her.

As I watched her curl into a fetal position, her words slammed into me with the force of a train. “You're saying someone slashed his throat?”

“They want me to go to the station, identify him. They … they took pictures.”

I swallowed, the horrific image of Christian with his throat slashed making my knees buckle. But still, I didn't want to believe it. “If you haven't seen the body, it might not be him. You can't be sure. Maybe someone stole his ID and that's why the police think it's Christian.”

“His picture is on his ID,” Katrina continued. “They must … they have to…” Her voice trailed off, and she began to wail.

Katrina was right. Certainly the police would have matched the picture to the victim.

My stomach twisting painfully, tears began to sting my eyes. I hadn't known Christian all that long, and I didn't wish him dead.

“I don't even want to go to the police station,” Katrina said. “After what happened when we were leaving the airport, how can we even trust them? They're totally corrupt.”

“This isn't vulnerable tourists in a rental car. This is a murder. The murder of a foreigner.” I paused. “We have to go the station, Katrina. We have to be sure.”

A chill swept over me, and I shuddered. That guy in the bar! The one Katrina had been dancing with and kissing. He'd gotten into that ugly fight with Christian. Had he gone outside to finish what he'd started—with no witnesses?

But to kill someone you didn't even know over something so ridiculous? A part of me couldn't believe—
wouldn't
believe—that this was true. “Kat, I know what you heard is terrifying, but let's try to stay positive. Until we get to the police station and know for sure. There could be some mistake.”

Katrina sat up and brushed at her tears, looking as though she was lost in a world of grief. “Christian didn't want to come here. He said there were so many problems with drugs. Tourists getting killed.”

I remembered something very different. Christian promoting the idea of a trip to Mexico. And to think that at the time I'd suspected he might want to do harm to Katrina …

“That's what you think?” I asked. “You think he got caught up in drugs? Because I only saw him drinking—”

“All I know is that he's dead!”

I flinched from the velocity of Katrina's voice, but the next moment she was weeping again.

I'd been trying to offer her a shred of hope to cling to, but I wasn't succeeding in making her feel better. Until we knew for sure, there was simply nothing I could to do alleviate her grief. Clearly, she wasn't the type to try to hold on to a smidgen of hope.

And maybe with good reason. Maybe I was the one who was being naïve in wanting to keep any shred of hope intact.

I sat on the bed beside her and gently touched her back. “Kat, I'm so sorry.” It was all I could say. “I'm here for you, okay. I'll go to the police station with you. We'll deal with this together.”

“Why would anyone do this?” she sobbed.

Again I thought about the man she had been dancing with in the bar the night before. The man she had been leading on in her game of drama.

Had it been a game that had cost Christian his life?

*   *   *

The trip to the police station seemed endless. I had thought that the police would send an officer to pick us up, but instead we had to make our way there.

Katrina was a mess, crying nonstop in the cab, while I sat numbly. Somehow I kept myself composed. Because I didn't want to believe it until we knew for sure. When we got to the police station, we would have real proof. Until then, I clung to the hope that this was all a misunderstanding.

The taxi pulled up to the police station, which was a beige-colored one-level building. The words POLICE STATION were in huge letters and also in English. Below were the Spanish words ZONA HOTELERA.

I felt a little better. This was the police station for a highly populated tourist destination. It wasn't a decrepit building in the middle of nowhere.

Katrina was still too emotional to speak, so I took the lead. I went to the front desk, where a female officer sat. She looked up at me as I approached her.

“Hello,” I said. “Um, my friend and I were told to come here. Her … her boyfriend went missing last night. The police think they may have found his body.” I swallowed, unsure of my words. But never in my life had I ever expected to have a conversation even remotely like this, and I had no clue how to go about it.

“Your name?”

“I'm Jade Blackwin. And my friend is Katrina Hughes.”

The woman gestured to the seating area. “Please, have a seat.”

Taking Katrina by the arm, I led her to the far side of the room, where we sat in well-worn cushioned chairs. There was a blond woman in here, her eyes red rimmed. Two Mexicans were handcuffed to their chairs and sitting on the opposite side of the room. Two male tourists also sat in the waiting area, both of them also handcuffed to their chairs. One had a black eye.

“We've been here for hours,” the man with the black eye said. “Good luck getting any justice in this country. Can't trust the Federales!”

I edged closer to Katrina, feeling very uneasy. We were in a strange country and in a horrible situation. And depending on what we learned, the situation would either get better or get a hell of a lot worse.

I watched the female officer as she spoke to someone on the phone. All I understood was, “Si, señor.”

And then, despite the fact that we had arrived after the other people in the waiting area, the female officer called our names: “Katrina Hughes and Jade Blackwin!”

My heart began to thud as my unease intensified. Why would we be called ahead of the others here … unless it was bad news?

“Please come to this door.”

By the time we got there, it was opening. A man appeared, about six feet tall. He offered his hand, and I shook it.

“Hello. I am Second Sergeant Roberto Ramirez.”

He offered his hand to Katrina, but she didn't take it.