“Bitch.”
She undressed slowly, tempting him with every move. Once she was naked, she reached for the birra, drained the bottle, and handed it to Jess. “What can you do with this?” she asked, innocently.
Jess stared at the bottle in disbelief. Suddenly, he was six. His mother was entertaining Spin the bottle. His rectum instantly spasmed with the memory. He grabbed the brunette’s throat. “Why did you have to go and do that?” Tears ran down his new face. The brunette’s eyes bulged with confusion. “Tsk, tsk. And we were having such a good time.”
* * *
Paul rinsed fresh blueberries in the sink. On his way to the bowl of ingredients waiting for finishing touches, he scrolled through the foreign-press website, looking for any clues to Jess’s whereabouts. “Where are you, you demented bastard?” He folded blueberries into the batter while he deciphered headlines written in Portuguese. He spooned his creation onto a preheated griddle, sneaking a peek at the screen downloading a video clip. When the woman pixelated into a clear image, he reached over and pressed the play button. Her tone was serious and crisp. “The woman was found dead this morning by a delivery truck driver.” Paul banged the bowl on the counter and keyed in the access code for another site. After entering his pin, he scrolled down until he found the information he was looking for.
“Do I smell pancakes?” Grace entered the kitchen with a towel, drying her hair. The room was empty, silent except for the sizzle in the pan. Grace flipped the pancakes. “Paul?” She spied him on his phone through the kitchen window. He paced the backyard angry-faced, one hand waving in the air. When he spotted her, his expression changed, and he ended his call.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said. “Business.” He crossed the kitchen with long strides. “I didn’t burn my masterpieces, did I?”
“What’s going on, Paul. I think I have a right to know.” Her eyes held his.
“Another mauling. A customer found three of his goats ripped to shreds.”
“What could’ve—?”
“Hard to say. God, Grace, what a way to start the day.”
Alarms started going off in her head. Do you really know anyone? “I have to get ready for work.” Panic stood on the threshold of her sanity threatening to turn her legs to Jell-O.
“Grace, wait. Please. Let’s have breakfast. I promise: no interruptions.”
His eyes warm and loving, she couldn’t resist. She sat down at the table. “I’m scared.”
Paul placed a steaming short-stack before her, removed the lid from the butter dish, and uncapped syrup. “You’re thinking about the phone call?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Why didn’t I see what a monster he was? Do you know how hard it is to give people advice on how to live their lives when I can’t even spot a psychopath right under my nose?”
Paul listened, his brow tense. “I suppose this is a lousy time to tell you I’m going out of town.”
“Paul, no! I need you here with me.” Tears turned to anger.
“You can’t keep leaving me. What if he comes back?”
“I’ve talked to Spiderelli. I wouldn’t leave you unattended.”
Grace rose and circled her arms around his neck. “Promise me you won’t be gone long.” She hugged him tight. He hugged her back, kissing her hair. His love was what she needed most right now. Without it, she couldn’t cope.
“I promise.”
When Grace left the room, Paul cleared the dishes. Once he finished, he went outside to call Skip.
“Hey buddy, what did you find out?”
“He’s one sick fuck. The woman he killed—sodomized with a broken beer bottle. Christ! Who does that?”
Paul imagined putting a gun to Jess’s head and pulling the trigger. “Can you and the boys handle this on your own?”
“Bags packed. Bird’s ready. Say the word.”
* * *
Jess flipped the cap from the bottle. He poured the remainder of the pills in his mouth and chased them with a glass of vino. The thought of food made him want to vomit. Bitch. His body shook.
He catapulted onto the bare mattress, rolling in a fit of laughter.
“Shit.” He calmed himself, squeezing out the last few giggles, wiping tears. “Time to fly, Mr. Sheppard.” The giggles returned with a vengeance. He buried his face in the pillow, his body wracked with emotion, chemicals, and ugly memories, but no one heard his cries. “Why mother? Why?”
CHAPTER 10
TIME HEALS
G race sorted mail in a daze. She missed Sal’s cheery voice chatting about John or the kids. Two weeks had gone by with little change. Buns remained in a coma.
Sal rarely left the ten-year-old’s bedside. Grace wasn’t welcome to visit, and it broke her heart. I love that boy. If he didn’t recover, Sal’s whole world would shatter, and she and Sal would never be able to mend their bleeding hearts. Too much to bear.
Just then, the door opened. Sylvia Mendoza walked in.
“Take a seat, Sylvia, I’ll be with you in a minute.” Grace’s voice sounded weak. She swallowed her grief and cleared her throat. I have a job to do.
“Come this way.” Grace led her client down the short hallway. Soon they were both settled in chairs and picking up where they left off the last session.
“I found someone to help clear out my mom’s house,” Sylvia said. “It gives me time to see a movie, go shopping, meet a friend for coffee.”
“Sounds like a big improvement from the last time we spoke.” Grace struggled to stay focused. She flipped through her notes. With Sal gone, she didn’t have much review time before her clients came in. And let’s face it, you could care less about anyone but yourself right now. Tiny shivers traveled her spine. “Tell me what else you’ve been up to.”
Grace scribbled a few notes, buying time. Sylvia seemed to be having a problem focusing as well. She hemmed and hawed, stretching for something to say.
“Is it wrong to feel better after someone dies?” Sylvia scooted to the edge of her seat, as if ready to pounce should Grace give the wrong answer.
“No, sometimes dying can be a blessing.” The words didn’t bode well. If anything happens to Buns…
Grace rose and filed through the stack of books waiting to be returned to the shelf. Sal’s job. Your job now, her inner voice reminded. Sal isn’t coming back. “Does your mom’s death still make you feel guilty?”
“Sort of. Her latest tactic before she died was to make me jealous. She gushed over her hospice nurse, Linda. I became the workhorse. Linda was talented and funny. She wished Linda would come more often.” She lifted her gaze to Grace, and her lips spread wide. “I told her I could arrange that…then she didn’t seem happy. I shouldn’t have called her on it.”
Grace returned to her seat empty-handed. She hadn’t heard from her mom in days. Punishing me for spending time with Paul? “I’m sure she would’ve found a new tactic,” Grace said, attempting to show her amusement over the situation.
“I think you’re right. I didn’t want her to die. It’s just that she—”
“Just that she what?”
“She was flat broke.” Sylvia turned her head in shame. “Her medicine had gone up fourteen dollars a day. Can you believe that? For generic. She was behind on her utilities, and her sprinkler system went kaput.”
“As I recall, you said she refused to move.”
“Yes, she said she’d rather be dead. Frankly, I didn’t know what to do.” Sylvia wrung her hands. Tears formed and threatened to spill. “It’s just that—” Her words hung in the air.
“Just that what?” Grace repeated with caution.
“I’m not sure she had to die so soon.” Sylvia threw her shoulders back, reached for a tissue, and blew.
Grace eased back in her chair and crossed her legs. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“Lord knows, I am not the one who killed her.” Sylvia’s body began to shake. Her emotion welled, unstoppable now. She cried, “I didn’t want her to di
e! Not in the hospital. Not like that.”
“Not like what?”
“It was awful. It wasn’t like I expected— No one told me—”
“You said the doctor upped her pain meds.”
“Yes, then he honored her directive, took her off oxygen, and removed all the monitors.”
Grace’s heart began to pound. Memories of Garret came flooding back. She recalled the day they pulled the plug. Her fingers tingled at the thought of her last touch before she said goodbye. She pictured Buns, lying in bed, hooked up to life-sustaining gadgets, his mother weeping and praying. She pictured John, pale and helpless to stop Sal’s pain.
“Grace?” Sylvia rose and tapped Grace’s hand. “Are you okay?”
Grace felt frozen like her mouth wouldn’t move, and if it did, nothing useful would come out. “I’m sorry, Sylvia. I’m not feeling well this morning. Can we reschedule?”
“Sure. Did I upset you?”
“Not your fault at all. I appreciate you understanding.”
Once Sylvia left, Grace picked up the phone. “John? I have to see him.”
“C’mon, Grace. You know if it were up to me—”
“Please!” Grace’s shoulders shook, her stomach clenched, and her knees buckled. Her face, wet with fresh tears, crumpled into her trembling hands as she begged, “Please John.” She whispered, “Please.”
* * *
Grace stood in the doorway. The sound of the monitors gave her the same creepy feeling they did when she visited Garret. He’s gone now. Let it go. “I brought flowers to brighten up the room.”
Sal’s red-rimmed eyes glared at her with hatred. “What are you doin’ here? We told you to leave us alone. John?” John moved to Sal’s side.
“Babe, it’s time to stop the blame. It’s not going to bring our son back.” John gathered Sal in his arms and rocked her ravished body as she wept. He glanced at Grace and nodded. “C’mon in, we were just about to take a break.”
Grace was stunned when John pulled Sal from the chair. When he guided her out of the room, Grace stepped aside. “Don’t be long,” he said.
Grace rushed to Bun’s side, resuming the vigil. The chair was still warm. The scent of Windsong lingered in the air. Grace breathed deep, missing Sal even more. She placed her hand over the boy and began to pray silently. Dear God, you know you haven’t been in my life since you let me down and took Garret, and I don’t blame you if you turn a deaf ear, but I am begging you, please, bring this boy back home to finish out his days with us. I promise you, he will be loved and cared for no matter what. He belongs with his mother, Lord. Please don’t let it be his time. We want him back. Amen. Grace squeezed Bun’s hand. “Hey Buddy, it’s Auntie Grace. Where are you?” She watched his eyes move from side to side as if scanning his surroundings. “Come on back to us, sweetie. Can you do that? Come home, Buns. Everything will be okay, I promise.”
* * *
“How could you do that to me?” Sal hissed.
“She’s your friend, babe. More than a friend, she’s been like a daughter to us. We can’t keep pushing her away. It wasn’t her fault.”
“She and her cockamamie advice put him here.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“She should’ve called us!”
“She knew what you were going through, Sal. C’mon, honey. Besides, what would we have done?”
“Quit sayin’ stuff like that. I don’t have any room for forgiveness right now, John. I want my son back.”
“I want him back too, baby, but hatred is what put him in that bed. I know it damn sure won’t bring him back.”
“Shut up and hold me,” she said with open arms. “I hate when you’re right.”
“I know you do,” he said, nuzzling her neck. “And I probably won’t get lucky for a month, but right now let’s pretend things are normal.” He held her at arm’s length and teased, “I put hazelnut creamer in your coffee.”
Sal and John sipped their coffee in silence. Sal watched the clock. “Let’s get back to the room.”
“I’d like to finish my coffee.” His face remained loving as he reached for her hand. “Give Grace more time, Sal. She’s only human.”
* * *
Grace remembered cuddling Buns in her lap when he was small. The two of them were buddies. They watched TV together and ate ice cream together. Grace taught him to shoot spitballs with a straw. “Your mom loved that one, do you remember? How ‘bout the time we blew bubbles in our milk, and it overflowed on the table. I thought she was going to hit the roof!” Grace chuckled softly. “Do you remember how I talked your brothers into letting you up in their tree fort? I had to do Sam’s homework for a week.” Grace massaged the boy’s fingers. “Maybe I gave you the wrong advice. Maybe I should’ve told you to punch their lights out instead of turning the other cheek. I don’t know. I guess I didn’t realize how mean ten-year-olds could be. And how brave you were for taking the first punch. No one blames you for defending yourself, Buns. We would’ve done the same thing if we were in your shoes for sure. And the man in the car? Totally busted for not stopping. He was on his cell phone for chrissakes! Promise me you will never talk or text while driving.”
“Times up, Grace.” John entered the room, followed by Sal. Grace gave Bun’s hand one last squeeze.
“I gotta go, buddy, but I’ll be back, okay? Maybe next time you won’t be so chatty. Geez, I hardly got a word in edgewise.” She bent down and kissed his cheek. “I love you, sweetheart, and I miss you like crazy, so wherever you are, wrap it up and come on home.”
Grace rose. “Thank you, John, Sal.” She strode across the room heading for the door when Sal stopped her.
“Grace?”
Grace’s heart thumped in her chest. “Please don’t tell me to stop loving him, Sal, I can’t.”
“No, he loves you, too.” She shuffled her feet. “Maybe I’ve been a little too hard on you. After all, I can’t expect you to think like a mother; your womb hasn’t been programmed yet. But I do expect you to honor my time with my son. I won’t be back in the office until he’s home again. Just wanted you to know.”
Without warning, Grace threw her arms around Sal, almost taking her down. Between sobs and apologies, their shattered bond was repaired with love. John jumped in, gathering the two women in a warm embrace.
No one saw the boy’s lips move.
CHAPTER 11
SNAKES SHED THEIR SKIN
P aul felt as though bees droned beneath his skin. His teeth ached from clenching; a high pitch tone rang in his ears. He dialed Skip.
“Any word?”
“Not a peep.”
“Where the hell could he be?”
Skip snickered, “Where do all snakes go when the dust stirs?”
“How many rocks have we overturned?”
“If he’s in fuckin’ Argentina, my friend, he’s unlikely to show up on Facebook. Don’t worry. We have our best men scouring the countryside. We’ll find him.”
“Any new info on the murder?”
“Aside from the woman being mutilated with a beer bottle, she had bite marks on her breasts and genitals. Not exactly our boy’s MO, but then again, who knows? Whoever killed her had a deep hatred for women.”
“And you don’t think that bastard did it because—?”
“Remember Darry, the guy from Brazil? He acquired a surveillance tape with a woman fitting her general description entering a nearby hotel the afternoon she was killed. We didn’t see anyone resembling our boy coming or going. Do I think he did it? Hell yeah. We just haven’t been able to figure him into the equation yet.”
Paul ran his hands through his hair and rubbed the stubble on his face. He wondered how Grace tolerated his unkempt appearance the last few days. He took a deep breath and exhaled, quieting the bees. “Okay, stand by for now. Keep me posted.”
“You got it, buddy. And one more thought.”
“I’m listening.”
“Snakes shed their skin.”
Paul hung up the phone digesting his friend’s last words. He fired up his laptop revisiting the information on the murdered woman. Who are you? How did you meet our boy? He closed his eyes, trying to imagine a scenario that would fit Jess’s needs. He picked up his last victim, the flight attendant because he needed a car. Where was he headed? Did he plan to leave the country? Was she helping him on her own accord? Either way, she met a terrible demise, splattered on the front of a train. Everyone he touches dies. Paul shuddered to think what he had in mind for Grace. He shook off the bees, keyed in a web address, and entered his passcode. Missing persons popped up on the screen. He entered Buenos Aires in the search bar. It’s a start. If there are any new reports filed, I’ll be alerted.
Mentally exhausted, he looked for a reprieve. He pulled down his “Favorites” menu, clicked on “My Daily Horoscope,” and let fate take the wheel.
* * *
Grace returned to her office feeling elated. Having Sal back in her life made her the happiest she’d been in a long time. She even had fifteen minutes to spare before her client arrived. Coffee. While rummaging through the cupboard for creamer, her cell phone rang. One hand held the container while the other grabbed her phone from her purse. “Hello?” She expected the call to be from Paul or her mother. Instantly, she sensed it was neither. “Hello?” She banged the container on the counter. “Damn it, Jess! I’m not interested in playing your silly games. You have no power over me. Do you hear me, you spineless shit? Don’t call me anymore.” She snapped her phone shut and picked up her cup. Why are your hands shaking? “Because I’m scared.”
* * *
Sal nibbled on a tuna sandwich. She glanced from a Jeopardy rerun to her sleeping child and the empty chair John would fill when he returned with her coffee. Her heart felt lighter. Deep inside, she was relieved to see Grace. John was right. Grace was like a daughter to her. How could she stay angry? Who are you really angry with? “Myself. I’m angry with myself.” Her words echoed in the sparse room.
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