by Izzy Gomez
“Karen. It was Karen! Our fucking evil stepmother is about to be taken to the morgue. Someone stabbed her about a million times and cut out her lips and tongue.” She swiped at a rogue tear on her cheek. She would not cry. She didn’t have time.
“Fuck.”
Long, heavy silence filled the phone line.
“You’re kidding, right?”
She could picture Todd’s face, pale and tight, dark eyes glowing. She heard shuffling over the phone, knew he was removing his glasses to rub his eyes and the bridge of his nose.
It sickened her to know once they’d established time of death, he’d have to provide an alibi. Their whole family would be suspect, even her.
“I wish.” She turned the car into the neighborhood where she’d grown up. Toward the lonely house where Todd had been her only ally. “You should come over. Be with Dad.”
“Damn. Dad’s gonna go nuts.”
And she got to give him the news. Some people had all the luck.
“I’m almost at the house.” She turned another corner and pulled to the curb. Shut off the engine. Sat staring at the dark house. It was late, almost midnight. Dad would be asleep.
This completely fucking sucked.
“Get here as soon as you can.” She couldn’t say another word without breaking down, so she ended the call. Taking three deep breaths, she smoothed her hair, then forced herself to move. She just had to do it. Waiting wouldn’t make it any easier.
Nothing would.
Chapter 3
She punched in the garage security code and let herself in the side door. She expected to find the house dark, but a light glowed from the back of the house.
The refrigerator door stood open when she entered the kitchen. “Dad?”
Her half-brother Hank’s head popped up. “Nope.”
“Oh. Hey.” Super. This would be even more fun with I’m-God’s-Gift-to-Humanity Hank here. The only way to make it even more super-duper would be for The-World-Revolves-Around-Me Emily to pirouette through the door. Fortunately, she had the two demon daughters to occupy her.
“What are you doing here?” Amanda didn't know what else to say. Living together for fifteen years didn’t mean she had anything in common with him. Or liked him.
“I’m staying here for a few days while they do some work on my place.” He put a loaf of bread and package of roast beef on the counter. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be out saving Gotham City?”
Irritation ruffled over her skin. Both at Hank’s constant belittling of her job and at her letting it bother her.
“Where’s Dad?”
“Sleeping,” he said in a duh tone. He turned to face her, butter knife in hand, globs of mayonnaise clinging to the blade. “We had a long day. Whatever you have that’s soooo important, it can wait.”
She refused to let him intimidate her. Dammit, she was older. And had a gun.
“No, it can’t,” she said as she started for the stairs.
She didn’t miss his muttered, “Spoiled bitch.”
Standing next to her father’s bed, Amanda watched him sleep and listened to his light snores. His beloved beagle, Rocky, curled at his side. Rocky opened his eyes and watched her, but otherwise didn’t move.
As a girl, she’d loved when Karen traveled for work. Dad would let Amanda sleep in bed with him and that snore soothed her to sleep better than any lullaby.
If only she could be that little girl again. Climb in bed beside him and drift to sleep.
“Dad.” Her voice was too quiet, but he looked so content. She was about to ruin his life.
She shook his shoulder. “Dad.”
His eyes opened, squinting at her in the shadows, the only light spilling in from the hall. “Karen? Is that you?”
“No, Dad. It’s Amanda.”
Dad pushed himself up on his elbows. “Amanda? What are you doing here?” Rocky whined and propped his chin on Dad’s leg.
“I need to talk to you, and it can’t wait until morning.”
She heard the side door open downstairs. Todd. Thank God he lived close.
“What’s going on?”
She couldn’t tell him here, not in this bedroom so full of Karen’s presence. Besides, if she did it downstairs with Hank there, she’d only have to say it once. And Todd would be there to help. Someone else would have to tell Emily.
“Why don’t you come downstairs.” She backed away, toward the door. She couldn’t breathe. “I’ll get you a cup of coffee and we’ll meet you in the den.” It was the only room in the house that didn’t reek of Karen.
“We?”
“Hank. And Todd’s here.”
“Why is Todd here?” Charlie Schreiber pushed himself out of bed and shoved his feet into slippers. “What’s going on?”
She resisted the urge to bolt out of the room, out of the house. “Just come downstairs.”
Tense silence hung in the air when Amanda returned to the kitchen. Todd stood at the counter, watching coffee drip in the coffeemaker. At the table, Hank ate his sandwich with a scowl.
He turned to glare at Amanda. “What the hell is this about?”
Amanda held her breath. Hank’s presence made this nightmare even more hellish. Her nerves passed frayed about twelve hours ago. She hadn’t eaten in as long. She had no patience for her younger sibling. But strangling him was not productive.
“Fuck off, Hank. You really think I’d be here, enjoying your company, if it weren’t important? You think I came over to listen to your crap for shits and giggles?” She glared back at him.
Todd put a hand on her arm. “Don’t let him get to you.”
She didn’t look away from Hank. Ever since he’d started working for Dad’s engineering firm, he thought the two of them had an extra-special bond. Thought he knew Dad better than the rest of them. And even if he did, so what?
Todd leaned in close and murmured, “Remember, this is going to be hard for him too. She’s his mother.”
Amanda held in a snort. Hank needed a heart before he could mourn. He would use this as a chance to suck up to Dad even more. Feign grief so they could lean on each other.
Amanda turned away, opened the refrigerator. Might as well get a little sustenance for what came next.
Todd was probably right. She may not like Hank, but he wasn’t totally devoid of feelings. Still, he’d find a way to twist the situation to his advantage.
As Amanda closed the refrigerator, string cheese in hand, she heard Dad’s footsteps on the stairs. She turned to Todd, who was pouring a cup of coffee. “Get one for me too.”
Todd nodded and reached into the cabinet for another mug.
Hank tossed his plate in the sink with a clatter. “This better be good,” he snarled as he left the room.
“Jackass,” Todd muttered.
Amanda leaned her forehead on her brother’s shoulder. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“Do you want me to tell them?” Todd turned toward her, squeezed her upper arm. He picked up the mugs, handed one to her, took her hand to lead her toward the den.
God, yes. “No. I should.”
Todd stopped outside the door. “You’re sure?”
She didn’t have the energy to look up and meet his eyes. “No. But I’ll do it anyway.”
Dad sat in his recliner, feet up, Rocky on his lap. Both he and Hank turned to look as she and Todd entered the room. Todd handed Dad the coffee, then sat on the opposite end of the sofa from Hank. They leaned away from each other, sitting as far apart as possible.
Amanda took the ottoman near Dad’s chair. She took a gulp of the hot coffee. It burned its way down her throat. She clutched the mug like a lifeline, keeping herself tied to the moment rather than letting her mind escape to the thousand other places she’d rather be.
Dad turned to her, confusion in his sleepy eyes. “What’s this about, Amanda?”
She looked up, met his gaze. Her empty stomach folded in on itself. How did she say the words? Part of her resented her father for t
he way he’d stood by and let Karen treat her and Todd so cruelly. But he was still her father. He was the only parent she’d ever known.
She loved him. So how did she ruin his life?
“It’s...about Karen.”
Dad’s eyes widened. He sat up in his chair, pushed the footrest down. Rocky whined and hopped to the floor. “She’s out of town. She had business in Kansas City. She’ll be back tomorrow.”
Questions swirled through the detective part of her mind but she pushed them aside. Right now she was the daughter, not the detective.
She’d much rather be the detective.
She opened her mouth, but managed only an anguished chirp. She took a breath, tried again.
“I’m so sorry, Dad.” She set her mug on the coffee table and reached for his hand, squeezed it. “But she must not have gone. We found—" Her voice cracked.
Immediately Todd joined them, taking one of her hands and one of Dad’s. For once in her life they were the family, Hank on the outside.
It only took Karen’s murder.
“We found her body,” she managed to whisper. “Near the zoo.”
For a long, heavy moment Dad stared at her. Nothing registered in his dark eyes.
Finally he shook his head. “No. There’s a mistake."
"I saw—"
"Why would she be at the zoo?” His eyes darted back and forth between her and Todd, his expression shifting from confused to furious. "That's impossible. It wasn't her."
"Dad." She made her voice as gentle as possible. Why did she volunteer for this? "I saw her."
"No. It can’t be her. I talked to her the night she got there. She was at her hotel. She was fine.”
Again, her detective mind prickled. She filed that bit of information with the rest.
Hank cut between Amanda and Todd, interrupting their circle. “What’s going on? What’s wrong with Mom?”
She hadn’t meant to speak too quietly for him to hear. “I’m sorry, Hank. Karen—your mom—was killed. We found her tonight.”
Hank looked from her to Dad to Todd, silent. Color drained from his already pale face.
Dad didn’t seem aware of the tears rolling down his cheeks. “No, it’s not possible. It just isn’t. It’s not Karen.” He looked down at Amanda. “You’ve made a mistake.”
The weight on Amanda’s chest got heavier. She couldn’t breathe. “No, we didn’t. I saw her. She was wearing the earrings you gave her for Christmas. It was her wedding ring.”
She was so focused on Dad, she didn’t see Hank coming until he was nearly on top of her.
Chapter 4
Greg stared at the TV as the sportscaster made predictions about the upcoming Colts game. While his eyes remained turned toward the screen, he only paid enough attention to catch that they were heavily favored over the Vikings. Always a good thing.
“Should be a good game on Sunday,” Dean, the owner of Deano’s Bar, said. He nodded toward Greg’s empty glass, a questioning look on his face.
Greg nodded and pushed the glass toward Dean. “Sure. Thanks.” He didn’t usually drink alone and would have preferred a quiet night at home. Asleep. But tonight the idea of going home to his empty house was uncomfortable.
But Amanda’s expression wouldn’t leave his head. Her look of shock and despair brought back too many memories.
Maybe instead of moping at the bar, he should meet up with some of the guys. Sure beat thinking himself into a funk.
Greg pulled his phone out of his pocket and hit the speed dial for David Lunk, his former partner from the Task Force. David called earlier and asked if Greg wanted to go out for a beer.
“Hey, man, what’s up?” David answered. “You get lonely all by yourself at home?”
“Yeah, you know how I get when you’re not around.” Greg could hear music and the hum of a crowd in the background.
David laughed. “It’s a common problem.”
“You guys still out? Thought I could meet up with you.” He didn’t need to get into the details of why he’d changed his mind.
“Hugo got summoned by the wife,” David said. “And Leo decided to call it a night. Says he’s gettin’ too old.”
“So it’s just you?” Not a great prospect. If he didn’t already have a girl in his sights, David would find one in the next half hour. And leave soon after.
“I’m pretty close to leaving too.” David lowered his voice.
His tone said it all. David had an eye for Badge Bunnies.
Greg held in a sigh. So much for being social. “Good luck, man. I’ll see ya.”
“Later.”
Greg slid his phone back in his pocket and took a drink from his beer. He glanced up at the TV again, but they’d moved on to the weather.
What a shithole of a night.
His stomach rolled at the memory of Karen Schreiber’s mutilated face covered in smears of her own blood. He’d seen some heinous stuff working with gangs, but never anything quite like tonight.
After taking a gulp of his beer, he set his head on his hand and dug his palm into his eyes, trying to force out the image. The same way he’d tried for years to force out the memory of holding Phil, watching the blood drain from the two gigantic holes in his chest, watching life drain away along with it.
Even after fifteen years, Greg could still feel the weight of his brother’s body in his arms, could feel the sidewalk under his legs. Could smell the blood. Could feel the breeze and the blinding fear and the inability to do anything but beg Phil not to die, beg God not to take him.
“You look like you could use a friend.”
Greg’s heart pounded as he struggled back to the present. It took him a moment to get his bearings. He was at Deano’s. He was no longer nineteen. And an amazing-looking brunette was smiling at him with flirtation in her dark eyes.
He forced a smile he didn’t feel. Gorgeous as she was, she didn’t do anything for him.
Amanda’s face flashed through his head. First as she’d been tonight, then with the warm smile she’d given him the first time they met. Right now, blonds with blueish-greenish-gray eyes did it for him.
“I’m Denise.” The brunette leaned closer to him, licked her lips.
“Hi, Denise.” How did he brush her off without being a jerk?
“How about if I buy the next round and you can tell me why such a good-looking guy is sitting at the bar all by himself.” She stepped into him so she almost straddled his leg.
Greg tried to ease away from her but couldn’t without brushing his legs against hers. She wore a short skirt, her long legs bare. He wasn’t up for that kind of intimate contact. He’d encountered women like her enough to know she’d misinterpret the action. After all, he’d made the move intentionally dozens of times.
“That’s a nice offer, but I’m not up for company right now.”
Heavy silence stretched between them for a long, awkward moment.
Finally, Denise laughed self-consciously. “I just made an idiot of myself, didn’t I?”
Greg met her eyes. A very pretty brown. But not hazel. “No, you didn’t. I’m not in a great mood.”
“If you’re sure. I’m a good listener.” She tilted her head to the side, looking at him through her eyelashes.
Talk about persistent. “Really, not tonight. But it was nice meeting you.” What else could he say?
Denise gave a little wave and disappeared toward the back of the bar.
A wave of exhaustion hit him over the head. He needed to get out of there. He had to be at work in too few hours and he wouldn’t be good for anything if he didn’t get to bed soon.
Greg tossed a twenty on the bar, gave Dean a quick wave and headed out into the night. The sidewalks were fairly empty since it was a weeknight.
As he headed for his car, he struggled not to slip back into the dark memories. He’d done that too much over the years. It was time to let go.
For real this time. He clung too tightly to Phil’s memory. His mother chastised
him for it every chance she got. He’d spent fifteen years trying to make up for not saving Phil. He knew that in the logical part of his brain. But how did he stop the irrational part of his brain from going back to that day?
Did he even know how to live his life without Phil’s memory to push him? Being a cop had been Phil’s dream, not Greg’s. Now Greg put everything into his job because his brother couldn’t. Whenever he wanted to quit, he told himself he couldn’t let Phil down.
But wasn’t he letting himself down? And in doing that, wasn’t he letting Phil down?
Christ, he must be exhausted to be thinking like this.
What was it Mom always said? Live your life for you, Greg. No one else. Love your brother, honor his memory. But live for you. It’s what your brother would want. And it's what God wants for you too.
He’d written it off as her churchy nonsense. But she was right. He’d spent so long trying to do everything Phil didn’t get a chance to because he’d died. And in the process, Greg stopped living his own life.
He stopped at the corner, waiting for the light to change. He looked up at the sky, as he so often did, when he wanted to feel connected to Phil.
You there, buddy? You listening? Is Mom right? Have I been trying to live your life instead of mine?
Of course, no answer came. The light changed and he started across the street.
He didn’t need some cosmic answer from his brother. He’d been relying on ghosts too long.
He was done. At the age of thirty-three, he needed to finally start living for himself. Go after what he wanted in life instead of floating through on a Phil-driven auto-pilot. He’d taken the first step when he left the Gang Task Force. Now it was time to take the next step. Then the next.
As he pulled open the door to his car, a face once again popped into his mind of a sexy blond detective. He was finally ready to go after what he wanted in life.
He wanted Amanda Schreiber.
“You lying bitch!” Hank grabbed Amanda’s arms and yanked her to her feet. Backed her toward the couch. Threw her down.
Her landing jolted up her spine and she fell back against the cushions, pain throbbing in her tailbone. Without thinking, she raised her legs to ward off Hank’s advance.