“Downhill? With the grass still slippery from the rain? What am I? The Man from Snowy River?”
Mia laughed. It felt good. The laughing, the sun on her back, Shiloh warm and responsive under her, the thought of Jack waiting for her back at her place…
She shook the thought out of her head. Knock it off, Mia. If he’d wanted something with you, he’d have made a move by now.
“You should bring Ben out to the barn as soon as possible.”
She frowned. “What? Why?”
“I find prospective mates are very telling in this environment. If they hate it immediately—the smell, the barn dogs, well, you’ll know in advance what you’re in for. Most husbands loathe their wives’ horse hobby. You know that, right?”
Mia urged Shiloh down the steep incline and Ned followed. “I do know that,” she said. “Any theories as to why?”
“Is jealousy still a good motive for bad behavior?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then there you are. I’ve yet to meet a man who didn’t accuse me of loving my horse more than him.”
“It’s because they need so much time and attention.”
“Are you talking about the horse or the man?”
Mia laughed. “Both. Plus horses are expensive.”
“This is true. It is a very magnanimous husband who is okay with the constant outflow of cash in the direction of the barn.”
“The answer’s still no to buying Shiloh, Ned.”
Ned shrugged. “Can’t fault me for trying.”
Mia closed her legs around Shiloh and felt him shift into the next gear. The trot erupted into a canter and then a gallop when she saw Ned out of the corner of her eye racing to keep up. And for the next ten minutes, she let nothing in the way of the pure joy of the day and the sky and the wind as it enveloped her and carried her away.
*****
Jack hung up the phone.
“Everything all right?” Bill Maxwell sat with Jess at her kitchen table, two mugs of coffee in front of them. He’d come over midmorning to brief Jack on what he knew so far about the fire.
Which was precisely nothing.
Jack returned to the kitchen and his own cooling mug of coffee. “She’s invited me to bunk in at her place until…” He shrugged and sat down.
“I don’t know why I didn’t think of it,” Jess said.
“You ready?” he said to Maxwell.
“Sure.” Maxwell took a last sip of coffee, stood and leaned over to kiss Jess on the cheek while Jack walked to the front door.
“Thanks, Jess,” Jack called to her. “For everything, as usual.”
“Please take care, Jack,” she called back.
“Will do.” Jack moved outside to stand by Maxwell’s car while the Deputy Chief said a more private goodbye to Jess. It was weird seeing the two of them together. Especially since Maxwell’s last relationship was with a woman built like a brick shithouse and sleeping with half the people on the squad.
Don’t think ill of the dead.
He turned at the sound of Maxwell’s keyless entry and climbed into the passenger side.
“You two seem to have gotten close,” Jack said casually when Maxwell started the car.
“That a problem?”
“None of my business.”
“Kind of what I was thinking.”
Jack let the moment pass. Having Maxwell—his ex-boss at the precinct and not someone he always got along with—this close to Jack’s inner circle of friends was a good thing and a not so good thing. With the relationship providing possible access to police resources, he decided he’d be better off concentrating on how it was a good thing. At least for now.
“So you really have no new information about the fire at my place?”
“Investigations aren’t finished,” Maxwell said, pulling onto Peachtree Industrial Boulevard and heading south.
“Sometimes investigators make predictions based on what they’re seeing,” Burton said dryly, “even before the investigation is officially finished.”
“That’s true, they do,” Maxwell said.
“Is there a problem, sir?”
“You know you don’t have to call me that anymore,” Maxwell growled. “And under the circumstances, I’d prefer you didn’t.”
“What would you prefer I call you?”
“Bill will do.”
Bill? Was he really going to call the Chief Deputy—his ranking superior for fifteen years by his first name?
“Okay, Bill,” he said.
They drove in silence for several minutes before Maxwell spoke again. “Look, I promised Jess I wouldn’t say anything, but keeping mum is not my style if I’ve got a burr under my saddle.”
Jack looked at him expectantly. What the hell was he talking about?
“You and Mia. There’s nothing there, right?”
That was not what he expected Maxwell to say.
“How is that any of your business?”
“It is my business because everything that has to do with Jess is my business and she’s worried about the girl.”
“Worried, how? Why?”
“You don’t need to know the details. But it seems she’s gotten herself hooked up with some guy at the barn where she rides and Jess is a little worried.”
The words tumbling out of Maxwell’s mouth hit Jack in the stomach like a cannon ball to the gut.
Mia is seeing someone? How the hell did I not know this?
He cleared his throat. “Jess doesn’t like the guy?” The bastard! Of course, Jess doesn’t like him. Jess is an amazingly astute judge of character.
“She hasn’t met him,” Maxwell said. “And I think that’s the problem.”
“I see.”
“I figured the two of you weren’t together. A blind man could see that. But Jess thought otherwise, is all.”
Stop worrying, Jess. I did stupidly promise you, didn’t I?
“Nope,” Jack said, his stomach churning. Can this day get any worse? “We are not together.”
“Well, good. Keep it that way. No offense, but you are the last thing that girl needs.”
No offense taken you fat bag of lard.
“Naturally not,” Jack said, staring out the window as they exited from I-285 onto I-85.
“Okay, good.”
They drove the rest of the way in silence until Maxwell was nearly at Mia’s condo in Atlantic Station. Jack hadn’t bothered asking him to stop so he could pick up toiletries mostly because he didn’t have any money and he figured he’d rather lay down in the middle of the Connector during rush hour than ask Maxwell to loan him twenty bucks.
“Listen, Jack, I know this has been a shitty start to your day what with your house burning down and all and I probably shouldn’t say anything but I’m gonna throw you a bone here. I figure you’ll find out soon enough.”
What the hell else did the fat bastard have to say? Could he ruin this day any more than he already had?
“It’s about the kid who died on your watch.”
Jack felt the nausea ratchet up in his gut as the familiar blanket of guilt dropped down on him once more. “What about him?” he managed to say.
“The coroner determined cause of death.”
Jack snapped his head around. “He died in the fire.”
“Actually, he didn’t,” Maxwell said, pulling into Mia’s condo parking lot. He stopped the car and looked at Jack as if trying to make up his mind about something. “Turns out,” he said finally, “the poor kid had his throat slit.”
4
From the tantalizing aromas emanating out of the kitchen Mia could see that Jack had made himself at home.
She dropped her car keys in a dish by the door and shrugged out of her barn jacket.
“Am I smelling our dinner or are you taking it to some unworthy client?”
He stepped out of the kitchen, a dishtowel thrown over his shoulder. He was still wearing Dave’s sweatshirt and pants.
“Hey, how was the
ride? I’ve got a drink here for you after your bath.”
“Who says I’m taking a bath?” Mia said, joining him in the kitchen. “No, I am. You didn’t get to the clothes store?”
“Nah, thought I’d borrow your car after dinner if that’s okay.”
“Sure. I’ll come with you if you want. I like picking out men’s clothing.”
He handed her a glass of white wine. “Won’t be much of shopping trip,” he said. “I’ll have to borrow cash from you until I can pick up a replacement bank card tomorrow.”
“Any word on your car?” Mia set the wine glass down and went to the kitchen sink to scrub her hands.
“Yeah, it’s totaled,” he said, turning back to the stove where she could see he had several pots going. “Plus one of the big poplars in the front yard came down on it when it caught on fire.”
“Sorry. Where’s Daisy?” Mia looked over her shoulder to search for the little dog.
“Left her with your Mom for the night.”
“Mom loves having her.” Mia dried her hands and picked up her wine glass.
“So did you ride alone today?”
“Huh? No. I met a friend at the barn. Did you find all this stuff in the fridge? You’re a genius, Jack, to whip up a meal out of nothing.”
“This friend, she one of your usual horse-pals?”
“Why are you acting weird? Is something wrong?”
She watched as a guarded look come over his face and she felt an impulse to reach out and see if she could feel what was up with him. She knew he wouldn’t take kindly to her laying hands on him for that purpose.
“Maxwell had some news this afternoon,” he said.
“About the fire? Did you find out what caused it? Please tell me you didn’t leave an electric pizza pan on or something.”
She didn’t know why she was trying to be funny. This whole nightmare was the least funny situation she could imagine.
“Turns out it was set.”
“What?” She spilled wine down the front of her tee shirt and watched him turn to find a dishtowel. “It was arson? Are you serious? How can that be?”
He led her to a bar stool and handed her the towel. “Here, sit down and try to—”
“Jack, are you telling me someone deliberately set that fire? Who would do such a thing?”
“Well, I guess…” He ran a hand through his hair and looked helplessly around the kitchen as if looking for an answer, “…someone who wanted to hurt José.”
Mia stared at him. She could feel the tips of her fingertips go cold. “Holy shit,” she whispered.
“You can say that again.”
She shook her head. “Are we jumping to conclusions? I mean, just because José was there doesn’t mean he was the reason somebody torched your house. Or do you know something you’re not telling me?”
“It ain’t pretty.”
Mia grimaced. “Tell me.”
“José was murdered before the fire was set.”
Mia gasped and clapped her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. “Jack…” she moaned.
“I know. It’s not good.”
“That means somebody followed me last night to your place.”
“I know.”
“But why set fire to the place after they killed him?”
Jack shrugged and reached for his own wine glass. “To destroy evidence, I suppose, that might lead to them.”
“Poor, poor José. I can’t believe this.”
“Well, none of its official yet but Maxwell gave me the main facts this afternoon.”
“Do the police have any leads?”
“They have what we have.”
“What is that supposed to mean? You’re not thinking of tracking down José’s killer?”
“Why not?”
“Because, as you’ve told me only a ga-zillion times, the cops won’t thank us for interfering with an open case and besides, what would be the point? We can’t bring José back.”
“If everybody thought the way you do,” Jack said, his face hardening, “we’d never bother bringing bodies back from the front line or giving peace to the families of victims.”
“That’s not fair. You know I don’t mean that, but we can’t do anything for José! He’s gone, and that’s done. But we can help his sister.”
“That’s not how it works,” Jack said hotly. “José was murdered. We need to find who murdered him. That’s the priority.”
“How can the living not be the priority? You know this explains a lot, Jack.”
“I’ll ignore that.”
“Well, I wish you wouldn’t. Because frankly it’s a problem.”
“What part don’t you get, Mia? I left him in there! I got out and saved my own hide.”
“Jack, stop it! You said he was dead before the fire even started. What did you want to save? A body? At the risk of your own life?”
“I don’t care. I owe it to the guy.”
“Well, that is just ridiculous. If you want to do something for José, help me find his sister.”
“You do know that’s impossible, right? There are ninety thousand Hispanics in the Metro-Atlanta area—and those are the documented ones. How are you going to find a girl who slipped into the country with no name, no family and no papers?”
“By putting one foot in front of the other,” Mia said firmly. “Besides, isn’t it possible that the people who killed José are the same people who took her?”
Jack looked like he hadn’t thought of that before. He walked to the window in the living room. “Okay,” he said, “in that case we should first go after who killed José and try to find Maria along the way.” He turned to look at her. “Agreed?”
Mia wasn’t sure how the argument ended with them agreeing to do what Jack wanted but there did seem to be a kernel of logic to it.
“Fine. So what’s our first step?”
Jack turned back to the stove. “First step is you get cleaned up and I serve dinner. Then I find some clothes that don’t make me look like your personal trainer.”
“I meant after that?”
He turned to face her, a spatula in his hand. “Well, we make a list. I’ll need to interview my neighbors to see if anybody heard or saw anything last night. An unfamiliar car parked on the street, that sort of thing. Then, I imagine we go back to where you found José and try to trace his steps to where he came from.”
Mia felt the tension release from her shoulders.
We have a plan.
“And what about Jennifer Laughlin?” she asked.
“Who?”
“The lady with the wandering spouse?”
“Oh. Guess we’ll let him wander a little while longer.”
Mia noticed Jack’s eyes had gone from her face to her chest and she realized she had started to untuck her shirt in preparation for her shower.
“Okay. Good,” she said and turned to hurry down the hall toward the guest room. “Back in a bit,” she called over her shoulder.
*****
His name was a gringo one and hard to pronounce and he laughed when she tried to. He said it didn’t matter, she could call him whatever she wanted. The other girls called him Senor but she didn’t think he’d mind if she called him something more personal. She wanted to call him carino but so far the word wouldn’t come from her lips. The day after he rescued her from the back of the van, the others knew that she was favored by him.
Her English was better than her brother’s but not good. Fortunately, the gringo Carino spoke better Spanish. When they’d reached their destination—a large house with many bedrooms and a patio with a swimming pool—he led her to the kitchen and made her a sandwich.
No one in her whole life had ever done this for her.
He sat with her while she ate and talked to her. He told her he knew she was scared and that she was missing her family. Then he would drop his voice and tell her he knew how to reunite her with them. When she finished eating, she followed him to the bedroom. For four days she h
ad slept in cars, on the floor of the filthy motel, and in the back of the van.
He sat on the bed and gave her a pill and a glass of water. Her head had ached steadily for days now. She didn’t know how to ask for headache medicine but was not surprised that Carino knew what she needed. She swallowed the pill and the water and when she turned back to him, she saw he had removed his shirt.
“Do you want to sleep now, Maria?” he asked her. “Are you tired from your terrible journey?”
He knew her. He knew exactly how she felt. She nodded, feeling the tears of exhaustion overwhelm her. He opened his arms to her and she moved into them, feeling a respite from the fear for the first time since her journey began.
*****
The next morning, after Mia dropped Jack off at a car rental agency, he rented a mid-sized sedan and drove back to his neighborhood. He congratulated himself for keeping the banter light the previous the evening—in the face of Mia’s obvious determination to keep her barn boyfriend a total mystery. He couldn’t help but be surprised by how quickly she’d moved on.
Don’t we even get a chance? When did that fall through the cracks with her?
Angry with himself for meekly accepting Jess’s request to back off with Mia, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. The minute he saw the blackened eyesore that used to be his home, his emotions fell away and he was left with a singular determination that had nothing to do with wine and roses.
He sat in the rental car and stared at the ruins of his house.
Somebody deliberately did this. Somebody deliberately destroyed that boy’s life and every possession I own in the world. My souvenirs from my Iraq tour, Dad’s go-to-hell cap from the Mighty Eighth Air Force, every medal I ever earned. The photographs, the letters, all my clothes, the title to my car…
He felt his fists tighten around the steering wheel and willed himself to unclench them. They were just things. All replaceable. Even the house. It was well insured.
His thoughts raced back to José.
He parked the car on the street and moved to the first house. He had every intention of knocking on every goddam door on the street.
Somebody must have seen something.
Complete Mia Kazmaroff Page 24