Don't Breathe a Word

by Christie Craig

  “Or doesn’t trust you because you’re a cop?” Connor leaned back in the chair. “She could be the one who caused the explosion on her husband’s boat.”

  “No,” Juan insisted, though the unwelcome thought had crossed his mind.

  “Well,” Mark said, “truth is she really hasn’t done anything wrong. It’s not against the law to lie to your neighbor.”

  “I know,” Juan said. “But—”

  “But you aren’t going to stop looking into it.” Mark cut him a worried glance.

  “I’m telling you, I think she’s running from someone.”

  “She’s a damsel in distress and you want to save her.” Connor chuckled.

  “No,” Juan said, but thought Maybe. Because he’d let his very own damsel down. But damn it, he knew that was only part of it. Was he honestly ready to start caring for someone else?

  “I get it. Follow your gut,” Mark said.

  Juan raked a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have asked her about her kid’s scars.” Or kissed her. “I think that made her nervous.”

  “Just be careful,” Mark said. “But hey, I know a cop, Ian Crowder, in Boulder. I’ll give you his number. Maybe he can look around and find something out.”

  “Yeah,” Juan said. “Thanks. I’ll call him.”

  * * *

  “I said slow down!” the bitch under Pablo hissed when he ripped her top off her. “I don’t want—”

  “I brought you up here to screw you, not romance you.” Pablo pushed her down on his bed.

  Right then Pablo’s apartment doorbell rang. A second later, his phone did the same.

  “Shit!” he muttered. Couldn’t a guy get a little ass without being interrupted?

  The only people who called him were Rex, needing a job done, or Sam. He hoped it was Rex. His cash was getting low.

  Then again, if Sam had news on Vicki, he’d take that because that could lead him to his nest egg.

  The second he lifted on his elbow to check the number, the bitch bolted off the bed. He spotted Rex’s number on the screen. “Just get the hell out of here,” he told her.

  “You said you had some rock.”

  “I do, but you gotta earn it.” He grabbed his phone. The junkie stood there, her arm covering her breasts as if she was debating if staying was worth some rock.

  “Leave.” He took the call as she snatched her shirt off the floor and tore out of the bedroom. “Yeah,” he answered.

  “Open your damn door!” Rex’s graveled tone hinted at trouble. Someone had pissed him off. Taking care of the idiots who got on Rex’s bad side was mostly what lined Pablo’s pockets these days. That and accompanying his guys on some of the larger drops.

  Pablo popped up and started for the living room.

  When he walked in, the chick stood at his opened door holding her shirt over her breasts, staring at an unhappy Rex and his brother, Antonio.

  “Nice tits,” Antonio said.

  The girl glared back at Pablo, then bolted between the two men.

  “What’s up?” Pablo asked, not liking the sharp-eyed way the boss looked at him. First thing he thought was that Rex had finally caught on to the money Pablo skimmed off the top of his drug profits. Not that he’d been able to do it lately. When he’d been a cop, the jobs had been different and opportunities loomed at every turn.

  Rex’s frown deepened and his brother shut the door. “I got a call.”

  Shit. Why the fuck had Pablo left his gun in the bedroom? “From?”

  “A buddy whose brother is doing ten years in a Texas pen. Cops are looking into one of my old problems that was handled by you.”

  “Which old problem?”

  “A Colombian runner, a Chinese guy, who tried to take over my route in Texas. Five years ago.”

  “I remember. His name was Cheng something. I took care of him myself. There’s nothing that could lead back to you.”

  “He had a girlfriend, Abby Noel,” Rex bit out. “I think her body was disposed of and never found.”

  “Then they got shit. No body, no case.”

  “Not so. Word is that police are asking around at the strip joint for a friend of Noel’s because they think she knows something about the murder. Would you stake your life that she doesn’t? Because if this comes back—”

  “I only took care of the Asian guy. You sent someone else with me.”

  “You were in charge.”

  The anger in Rex’s voice had Pablo’s shoulders knotting. “Fine. You want me to clean up the mess one of your other guys made? I’ll do it.”

  “What I want is for people to stop fucking up! I’ve managed to stay off the police radar and I want to keep it that way.”

  “I’ll fix it,” Pablo said.

  “No. I’ve already sent someone. But you are dangerously close to outliving your usefulness around here. First, you aren’t employed by LAPD anymore. Second, half my guys don’t want to work with you. They say you walk around with crazy eyes, thinking only of the bitch who snagged your kid.”

  “I’m working on that.”

  “Work faster and get your shit together. Meantime, I have a package and a car I need you and Antonio to pick up in San Diego.”

  “When?”

  “Now. Is that a problem?”

  “Whatever you need.” The words left a bad taste in his mouth and the urge to slam his fist into Rex’s smirk hit so hard he had to take a step back.

  “It’s parked at the bus station in San Diego. I expect you to be back here by midnight.”

  “What are we bringing in?”

  “A hundred pounds of powder. Don’t screw this up.”

  “I won’t.” Pablo hated the tone he had to use. Hated being questioned. Hated how it reminded him of the line he’d had to toe with his father.

  But for now, Pablo would pick up Rex’s package. He needed the funds. Next, he’d get Dan to tell him where Vicki was. Then, with his nest egg back in his own damn hand, Pablo was going to teach Rex a lesson—just like he had with his father.

  Chapter Thirteen

  You look sad today,” Bell said as Vicki secured a backpack onto her niece’s shoulders.

  Starting her second full week of school, Bell actually looked forward to attending school. Vicki had driven Bell to school that Monday morning but parked instead of dropping her off at the front entrance, as parents were supposed to do. Last Friday there had been a male teacher opening the car doors and helping the children out, and she’d seen how Bell had reacted.

  What Vicki couldn’t understand was why Bell didn’t seem to be afraid of Juan. Was it the fact that both of them had scars? Bell had asked yesterday if she could go over to his house to play with Sweetie. Vicki had taken her out for ice cream instead.

  “Me? Sad? No.” She kissed the child’s forehead, forced a smile, and again debated whether she’d been right or wrong in not telling her niece what the day was. That it was her mother’s birthday. “I’ve got you, don’t I?”

  “Yeah,” Bell said. “You’ll be right here when I come out?” She’d asked this every day.

  “You bet I will.”

  “Pinky promise?” Bell held out her hand.

  “Pinky promise.” They locked fingers.

  She stayed until Bell walked into the school, linking hands with the kindergarten coordinator. Then Suzie moved in and the two girls hugged each other. Seeing the smile on her niece’s face made the sweetness of the moment turn bitter. Alison should have been here to see this.

  With two hours to kill, Vicki drove back to her house, and as she was passing a florist, a memory hit.

  “It’s her birthday!” Alison said, anger in her tone.

  “I know. It’s just that I have a client that I have to see today. Why can’t we go tomorrow and take them?”

  “Because it’s her birthday today. Anyone walking in the graveyard will see that’s it’s her birthday and she doesn’t have flowers. She was our mom. She deserves flowers on her grave.”

 
; For what? Vicki had wanted to ask her sister. Yeah, when their mom was clean and sober, she’d been a decent mom. Problem was, most of her life hadn’t been spent clean or sober. But Vicki couldn’t say that to Alison. For everything Vicki held her mom responsible for, Alison forgave her. Every birthday and Mother’s Day, Alison insisted they go to the grave.

  Vicki actually took most of the blame for her sister’s blindness to their mother’s ways. Vicki had shielded her from so much of the ugliness.

  Vicki pulled up into her driveway. But she didn’t get out.

  Unlike her mother, Alison did deserve flowers on her birthday. She pulled out her phone and searched for a florist in the next town over. When she found one that was about forty-five minutes away, she backed out of the driveway and headed to the freeway.

  * * *

  Monday afternoon, irritated that a week had passed and they were still hitting dead ends on the Noel case, Juan, Connor, and Mark sat at their desks and pulled out the file to do one of their brainstorming sessions. Unfortunately, Juan’s head hurt and his brain didn’t feel up to storming.

  “Here’s a question,” Connor said. “Are we spending too much time looking for Cindy Bates to find answers on the case? Or—”

  “Tell me another lead and I’ll follow it.” The irritation Juan felt at life in general rang in his voice.

  Connor leaned back in his chair and lifted his feet to his desk. “As I was going to say: or…is this all we really have?”

  “You think we’re chasing our asses on this case?” Juan asked, his tone getting tighter. “Fine. If we don’t solve it, I’ll take the hit.”

  “Nobody’s taking a hit,” Mark said. “We work the case and look for any leads that pop up.”

  Juan gripped the armrest of his chair. “Sorry, I’m in a pissy mood.”

  “No more than usual,” Connor added with a touch of humor.

  Juan shot him the finger, but smiled. Before he could offer a comeback, his cell rang. He studied the screen. It was a Colorado number.

  “Acosta,” he answered, and gestured at his partners to give him a few minutes.

  “Hey, it’s Ian Crowder.”

  “Hi, Ian. Did you find anything?” Juan cut Mark a quick look. Mark’s friend in Colorado had been more than eager to help when Juan had called him last week.

  “More interesting is what I didn’t find. There’s no death certificate on Nikki Virginia Hanson.”

  Juan’s mind chewed on that information. So Nikki could be telling the truth.

  “However, I did come across an old address and I stopped by there on my way home last night. The Hansons don’t live there anymore, but I talked to a neighbor. She was older than dirt and her memory wasn’t spot-on, so she can’t tell me how far back, but she swears she ran into Nikki somewhere. Could be as much as ten years ago. She said Nikki was hanging out with a Hispanic man.”

  Juan ran a hand over his face. That man was probably Bell’s father.

  “This woman is like ninety. So I’m not sure how much stock we can put into what she says.”

  “Yeah, but it kind of fits,” Juan said. He’d been wrong. Nikki hadn’t lied to him. And he felt bad for doubting her. Felt bad for even calling Ian to look into it.

  “Then it helps?” Ian asked.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  When Juan hung up, Mark turned and looked at him. “Did he find anything on your neighbor?”

  “There’s no death record. Looks like she’s telling the truth. And I’ve been acting like some stalker trying to prove things that don’t exist.” He picked up a pen and poked a notepad out of frustration.

  “I wouldn’t kick yourself. You had reasons to be suspicious. Just the kid saying her father is dead, after her mom said she was divorced, would cause me to question things.” Mark folded his arms behind his head.

  “She’s five years old. I shouldn’t have taken that seriously.”

  “True. I’d still be careful. When your gut says something’s off…”

  “Yeah. Well, right now my gut says I screwed up.”

  “So unscrew it,” Connor added. “Ask her out on a date.”

  Juan shot Connor his second one-finger salute. But Connor’s advice was sounding less like betrayal to Angie and more like moving on. Was he ready?

  * * *

  Pablo paced around the cemetery parking lot, waiting for Sam to get there. The California sun beat down on the pavement. He’d called his ex-partner every day to see if he’d heard anything from that women’s program. And every day the man said no. Sam was walking on thin ice.

  Finally, Pablo saw Sam pull in and his patience almost snapped watching the pisser take his time getting out of his car. Even after he shut his car door, he looked around before walking over.

  “What fucking took you so long?”

  “I was working a case.” He looked around. “What are you doing here?” Sam asked in a disapproving tone. “If someone saw you—”

  “Someone left flowers on Alison’s grave,” Pablo said.

  “What?”

  “On Alison’s grave. There’re flowers. I remembered it was her birthday and I recalled that every birthday, Alison and Vicki would have flowers delivered to their mother’s grave. So on the off chance I decided to check and I was right. I knew that bitch would mess up sooner or later!”

  “Wait. You think Vicki put them here?”

  “No, I doubt she’s that stupid. She probably had them sent here. Go get those flowers. I’m pretty sure there’s a card. Find out how they got here. And go straight there. Find out where they were ordered from. We’ll know where she’s living then.”

  “I’ll look into it.” Sam held a hand at his brow to block the glare, then gazed out at the gravestones.

  “Do more than look into it. Find her. This shouldn’t take so damn long! Go. I’m serious, I want to hear back from you today on this!”

  * * *

  Monday evening, Vicki was back on the front porch watching Bell ride up and down the sidewalk on her bike. She’d tried to convince Bell to stay in or to play in the backyard, but she’d finally given in to the little girl’s pleas and relented, dragging chairs, glasses, and a pitcher of lemonade outside for them. Reaching down for her glass, Vicki’s side pinched. Since work yesterday she’d occasionally felt a light pain. Probably a slightly pulled muscle.

  Thankfully, Bell still had training wheels, so Vicki could just sit and watch and maybe even enjoy the sunset. Her gaze shifted next door. She’d been in the kitchen when she’d heard Juan’s car pull in. She hadn’t seen him in over a week, since he’d knocked on her door wanting to talk about Bell’s scars. But she’d thought about him. Thought about him losing his wife and his baby. She ached for his loss and she longed to see him, to tell him how sorry she was.

  She knew that it was for the best to keep her distance, but every morning and evening she was tempted to step outside, hoping Sweetie would accidentally find her way into their backyard again.

  A jogger coming down the sidewalk toward Bell caught her eyes. Worried Bell might run into him, she held her hand over her eyes to block the lowering sun. Her gaze focused on the shirtless man. She stood up to call for Bell to pull to the side, but no sooner than her feet hit the porch, she realized it was Juan.

  He stopped and spoke to Bell. Then his gaze shifted to the house, to her.

  Smiling, he came right toward her. The rays of golden sunlight made the sweat on his shirtless body glisten. A soft want-that breath left her lips.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hi.” She forced a smile.

  “I’ve been hoping to talk to you. I’m sorry for reacting like I did about Bell. I overstepped my boundaries.”

  She hadn’t been prepared for an apology—hadn’t been prepared to see so much of his skin. Unable to come up with a suitable answer, she just nodded. He dropped down in the chair she’d brought out for Bell.

  “And I’m sorry I…” He looked back to make sure Bell was still on the sidew
alk. “…kissed you.”

  Still unable to force words out, she nodded again.

  “I’d really like to be neighbors. Friends. You know, like you suggested.”

  She couldn’t find a reason to say no. Well, she could, starting with that her whole life was a lie and he was a cop with questions. If that wasn’t enough of a reason, there was her reaction to his present state of undress. But obviously, she needed a reason that didn’t make her sound like she was hiding something or ready to jump his bones.

  “Okay,” she finally managed. “Neighbors.”

  He looked down at the pitcher of lemonade. “I’d kill for something to drink.”

  “Help yourself.”

  He poured himself a glass. She turned and watched Bell pedaling down the sidewalk, anything not to gawk at his bare chest, which still had little droplets of sweat slipping down past his nipples following his abs to get soaked up by the elastic band of his shorts.

  “You ever jog?” he asked.

  “Yeah, but…” She forced her gaze up, keeping her eyes on his face. “Now I mostly get my exercise at work.”

  Bell suddenly appeared in front of them. “Can I play with Sweetie?”

  “I don’t mind. You’ll have to keep her on a leash.” He looked at Nikki. “If it’s okay with your mom?”

  “Sure. But not too long. You have to get ready for school tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be right back.” He set his glass down.

  She couldn’t help watching him walk away. Heaven help her, he had the body of a god.

  “I like him,” Bell said.

  Me too. But she reminded herself what she’d told Bell earlier. They had to be careful.

  Right then, Juan turned around. She lifted her eyes quickly, but she was pretty certain he knew she’d been checking out his ass. Their gazes met.

  His heart-melting smile made her feel like a teenager again, waking up those hot-boy butterflies. This didn’t feel careful. This felt good. Dangerously good.

  * * *