Divorced, Desperate and Daring

by Christie Craig

  She turned around. “Do you really believe that?”

  “No, but . . . there’s still chance. You should be careful.”

  “I will. Now go.” Her heart raced. She took off for her bedroom and dropped on the edge of her bed. And that’s when she saw it. The envelope. The gift her mom had left her.

  It had her name on it beside the words, Happy birthday, Baby Girl. She recognized the handwriting, too.

  Her daddy’s.

  Tears filled her eyes.

  Daddy issues equal relationship issues. She really was screwed.

  • • •

  Sheri sat on her sofa, heart heavy, still in her pjs, staring at the unopened envelope now resting in the middle of her coffee table. She was eyebrow deep in her personal pity party when her doorbell rang.

  She got up and moved to the door. Her hand was on the doorknob when a buzz of fear filled her. Then she recalled Danny had arrested the guilty party. Still, lifting her hand from the knob, she moved to the window and pulled back her drapes.

  Chloe stood there.

  “Crap!” She swung around to look at the clock. Eleven.

  She opened the door. “Sorry. Give me ten minutes.”

  “Is everything okay?” Chloe asked.

  “Yeah, just . . . Let me get dressed.”

  Sheri hurried to her bedroom where she combed her hair, changed her clothes and attempted to adjust her attitude. She could be depressed later. It was her birthday, and she was going to have a good day if it killed her.

  If her father’s drinking issues had taught her anything, it was that faking it was the first step to making it. During a relapse, she’d just pretend it wasn’t happening. She’d learned to stay out late and go straight to her room when she got home. The only time she’d faced it was when she’d heard her father being cruel to her mom. Then she’d forced her father to face her.

  Just seeing her usually did the trick. He’d always apologize later, and he’d shape up for a while. But he’d do it again. Sorry, he’d say, I slipped up.

  “I’m ready,” Sheri walked into the living room, a smile plastered on her face.

  “What happened?” Chloe asked.

  “Nothing that a day out with my best friend won’t cure. What are we doing? Lunch and a movie?”

  Chloe hesitated and looked at the coffee table. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Depends on what you think it is.” Sheri picked it up and stuffed it into a drawer.

  “Only your dad called you Baby Girl.”

  “Then I guess it’s what you think it is.” She kept her smile in place.

  “Do you need to talk?” Chloe asked.

  “Pfff. I’m fine.”

  “Right. That’s why you’ve got that fake smile on your face. You think I don’t recognize that look? I knew each and every time your dad fell off the wagon. Whether you told me or not.”

  Sheri sighed, and it came from deep down, too. “Okay, I’m not completely fine. But you know the rule.”

  “Fake it until you make it,” Chloe said.

  “Right,” Sheri nodded, still forcing the counterfeit smile.

  “You do realize that’s just another way of saying, ‘bury your head in the sand.’”

  “I’m not burying my head. I’m simply looking the other way for a while. And that is oftentimes considered a constructive way of dealing with shitty life issues. I just read it in a magazine.”

  Chloe stared at her as if ready to dive in and do a verbal exorcism to fix all of Sheri’s problems. That’s what best friends did. Sheri had done the same after Chloe’s old fiancé had killed himself. She knew Chloe had Sheri’s best intentions at heart. She just couldn’t do this right now.

  “Look,” Sheri said. “I haven’t read the letter yet. And it’s my birthday. I really need to look the other way right now.”

  Sheri spotted the argument in Chloe eyes but then her friend stood up and grabbed her purse from the sofa. “Fine, we’ll not talk about that, but . . . what happened with Kevin?”

  “I made him admit he cheated on me and then I told him to take a hike. You were right. It felt good.”

  Chloe lowered her head and studied Sheri through her lashes. The look came off almost threatening. “And what are you telling Danny?”

  Okay . . . Sheri hadn’t expected that one. “I asked him to leave.”

  Her friend tilted her head to the side just a bit. “As in forever, or just for the time being?”

  “I didn’t specify.” And she hadn’t. Not to him, and if she was honest, not to herself either. Oh, hell, was she seriously thinking . . . ?

  “Okay, but what did you mean?” Chloe asked the same question she’d just asked herself.

  Sheri remembered how good it had felt to lean against him this morning. How it felt to laugh with him. Then she remembered how she refused to be like her mom. How her mom had lived a substandard life because she loved a substandard man.

  “I don’t know,” Sheri answered truthfully.

  “Well, you’d better figure it out. Because if what Cary’s telling me is the truth, Danny’s on a mission to win you back. And my husband actually thinks Danny’s serious and deserves a chance. He’s telling me I should back off and let you make up your own mind. But I’m not going to back off until you tell me to back off.”

  Sheri had a sneaking suspicion that redemption was Danny’s plan. She just hadn’t really confronted it yet. Trying to make light of it, she replied, “Gotta love a guy for trying.”

  “What does that mean?” Chloe asked. “Are you saying back off? I will if that’s what you want.”

  “No. I’m saying I . . . don’t know.” And she really didn’t. “But I’ll add figuring it out to my to-do list.” She closed her eyes for a second. “I do think if I’m not careful I’m going to wind up like my mom. Letting some guy treat me any way he wants all in the name of love. But . . . but,” she pasted the smile back on her face, “right now, can we please pretend like none of this happened?”

  Chloe sighed but then nodded as if she’d given up the good fight.

  “Now, what’s the plan for today?” Sheri dusted her hands off, hoping to wipe away the remnants of hurt.

  “First a light lunch at that Italian place you love. Then I got us appointments at the spa. And I went all out. Massage, pedicure, manicure and . . .” she twirled her hand around her thigh area “waxing.”

  “I don’t know. I did that once, and it . . . hurt like hell and then Kevin came home and was in one of his we’re-not-having-sex moods.” Probably because he was having sex with someone else. “Anyway, I swore from then on I would only do a little weed-eating around the playground.”

  “Weed-eating?” Chloe burst out laughing. Then in a few minutes, she added, “Just remember, after the waxing comes the wine. To help us deal with the pain. French wine, I might add, paired with fancy cheeses and fruit. It’s an all-day affair worthy of a birthday celebration.”

  Sheri rolled her eyes. “Nothing like getting your vajayjay cleaned up to put a girl in a good mood.”

  They both laughed, and that was just what she needed. A good laugh—a real one. It cleansed the heart like nothing else. She’d face that damn letter later.

  And Danny? She’d face him later, too.

  “Come on,” Chloe said. “Let’s go have fun.”

  • • •

  “About time!” Danny frowned at Cary walking into his office, a surefire sign of his mood. Sheri had basically tossed his ass out. He probably shouldn’t have asked about her attracted-to-some-guys comment to Kevin, but it had made him feel good knowing she’d had him on her radar. Watching her slam the door in her ex’s face had been an ego-booster as well.

  But the look on her face when she told Danny to leave . . . that cut to the bone and punctured a hole in his ballooning hope.

  Danny had knocked on her bedroom door on his way out. Told her he was leaving and he’d call her. A quick “Okay” had been all she offered. At least she hadn’t said,
“Don’t bother.”

  He’d been tempted to call her all day, but he was afraid she’d tell him to take a hike the way she’d told Kevin.

  “Sorry,” Cary said. “Traffic was locked up. There’s something happening off Main Street. I heard all sorts of sirens. Is he here yet?”

  “He got here about ten minutes ago,” Danny said.

  Cary had been out running down leads on another case all day, while Danny had been trying to find Jacob Thompson.

  When Jacob finally returned his call and agreed to come in and chat, Danny had texted Cary. The two of them had the nickname “Dynamic Duo” when it came to interviewing. The only one better than them was Chase Kelly.

  “Good. He’s had time to stew. Let’s go wrap up this case. My wife will rest easier knowing one hundred percent that it’s not her best friend on someone’s hit list.”

  They started down the hall to the interview room. Danny’s phone dinged with a text, and he stopped and read it.

  “Shit.”

  “What?” Cary asked.

  “It’s James Perkins’ lawyer. He’s out of town and said it will be Monday before he can chat with Perkins about giving us a real description of the guy wanting the hit.”

  “Hey . . . even lawyers get days off. Besides, it would have been Monday before you could have gotten a sketch artist in.”

  “It’s the principle of it,” Danny said.

  “He’s a lawyer. They don’t have principles,” Cary teased. Danny just wasn’t in the mood to joke. They continued down the hall, and Cary added, “Oh, I popped in and saw Ramon this morning. He’s much better. Said he’ll be going in a few days.”

  “Yeah, I talked to him. I told him I’d run by and see him this afternoon.”

  “How’s things with Sheri?” Cary asked. “Or is your mood and the expression on your face the answer?”

  Danny shot him a cold look. “I don’t know. One minute it seems good, and the next . . . I feel as if I’m back where I started. I’ve tried talking to her about it, but every time we’re interrupted or she shuts me down.”

  Cary slowed down at the door where Jacob Thompson waited. He glanced at Danny and then away. “Look, if Chloe knew I was telling you this she’d be pissed. But . . . Sheri knows more than you think she does.”

  Danny looked at him. “What do you mean, she knows more?”

  Cary motioned to the door. “Let’s do this, and we can talk later.”

  “No, explain now. What did Sheri tell Chloe?”

  Cary shook his head and hesitated. “I shouldn’t have . . . I swear, if my wife gets wind that I told you this, she’s gonna be pissed. So don’t say anything.”

  “Fine. Just tell me.”

  Cary sighed. “Sheri said that when she woke up alone in the hotel that morning, she went to talk to you. Supposedly to make you see that what you two had was special. I don’t know if that part’s true. Maybe she went there to give you hell, and . . .”

  “What? No. She . . . she didn’t come.”

  “She said she did and . . . she saw you with someone else. And then left.”

  “What? No. I didn’t . . . I went home.”

  “Yeah, that’s where she saw you with some other chick. I’m not judging you, but that had to have been a blow to her. I’m just telling you because . . .”

  “No! I haven’t even . . . Not since . . . her. Not once.”

  “Seriously?” Cary asked.

  “Seriously.” Danny tried to remember the details of the day he’d left the hotel. Mostly he remembered the gut-wrenching knowledge that he’d screwed up. Not that there was a chance in hell he’d run to someone else. And then . . . he did remember. “Shit! It was Anna.”

  “Anna? Your cousin?”

  “She was at my place. She’d been going through a hard time—too many memories of her husband at their house. Sometimes she’d just come over and sleep on my couch. She was there that morning when I got back. I remember because I wasn’t in any mood for company. She made coffee and we had a cup and then I . . . I walked her to her car.”

  “So she saw you walking your cousin to her car and assumed . . .” He laughed.

  Danny shot him a go-to-hell look. “I can’t friggin’ believe this. All this time, that’s what Sheri’s been pissed about?” Did that mean when she learned the truth, she’d feel differently?

  “Well . . . you did run out on her at the hotel, but I’m sure the other thing didn’t help. And don’t tell Sheri I told you this because if Chloe finds out, my ass is gonna be grass. And she will smoke it. Seriously, I’ve gone out on a limb for you already.”

  “Why the hell didn’t she tell me that when I went to see her? Or when I texted her a thousand times. This is just wrong!”

  “Pride probably.”

  “That’s not a good enough reason.”

  Cary just shrugged. “Why don’t we do this interview and you can fume later. We might be able to use the look on your face to scare the shit out of our perp.” He chuckled but sobered again when Danny let go of a low growl.

  Chapter Eleven

  Danny sat directly across from Jacob Thompson, the man they suspected had hired Pain to take out his wife. Cary sat beside Danny.

  The man came off nervous and fidgety. He should be.

  “Look,” Thompson said, “Howard is an acquaintance and was down on his luck. I let him stay at my house sometimes. I didn’t know he was bad news. And I didn’t know he’d be smoking weed in my house.”

  “Where were you last night?” Danny asked.

  “I stayed the night at my girlfriend’s place. Is that a crime?”

  Cary leaned forward in his chair. “Were you aware that your friend had your ex-wife’s address in his wallet? And I bet if we check, it was your handwriting.”

  The man’s eyes widened. “What? What does that have to do with . . . this?” While his question seemed to be genuine, a spark of guilt lit up the guy’s eyes.

  Finally, now they were going to get somewhere.

  Danny looked at Cary. “You forgot to mention the pictures Harry had of her.”

  Thompson’s brow creased. “What’s going on?”

  “I think you know,” Danny said.

  “Know what?”

  “Your ex-wife was a problem, and you hired him to . . . take care of the problem.”

  “What?”

  “Was it you or your friend who contacted James Perkins?” Cary asked.

  “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t bullshit us,” Danny said, no patience. “Your buddy Harry isn’t talking now, but you know sooner or later, he’s going to point his finger at you. He’s not going down for this.”

  “Point his finger at me for what?”

  Danny could deny the man seemed genuinely puzzled. “Sucks paying child support, doesn’t it? It’d be a lot easier if she was out of the picture, wouldn’t it?”

  “What?”

  “How much were you paying Pain to kill your wife?”

  The man’s eyes grew round. “Are you fucking nuts? I never . . .”

  He stopped talking and continued to stare at Danny as if trying to mentally put pieces of a puzzle together—and try to find a way to get his ass out of hot water.

  “I don’t know a James Perkins, or whoever you named.” Then his eyes got round. “Did something happen to my ex-wife? Where are my kids? Did Pain do this?”

  “So you knew what he was up to?” Cary asked and looked at Danny.

  The man hit his hands on the table. “I don’t know shit. Now answer me, damn it! Where are my kids? Are they okay?”

  “You can quit acting,” Cary said. “Just give it up.”

  The man started shaking his head. “I want a lawyer,” he yelled, bringing the interview to a halt.

  Guilty people always needed a lawyer, Danny told himself, but down deep, his gut said something wasn’t right.

  Cary and Danny walked out of the interview room. They looked at each other.


  Cary finally spoke up. “I’d rather have gotten a confession, but with what we got on him, he’ll go down.”

  Danny raked a hand through his hair. “You don’t think there’s a chance in hell he’s telling the truth, do you?”

  “Really?” Cary asked. “We got the pictures on a known hit man’s phone, a gun, and the wife’s address in the man’s wallet.”

  “I don’t know. Something didn’t feel right.” Danny looked back at the door.

  “What’s not right?” Then he added, “You want to call Ms. Thompson and tell her.”

  “Yeah,” Danny said.

  “But make sure you tell her we don’t have enough to hold him.”

  Cary must have seen Danny’s doubt. “It’s in the bag. Quit worrying.”

  “Everything we got right now is circumstantial,” Danny said. Was that why he wasn’t onboard?

  “We have Harold Pain. He won’t go down for this. He’ll talk. I’ll bet before the day’s over, Mr. Pain is going to be singing like a bird.”

  “I don’t know. Something doesn’t smell right,” Danny said.

  “Yeah, it’s called soliciting a murder. He’s just a good actor. Stop worrying.”

  “It’s just . . . If we’re wrong, Sheri could still be in danger.” Then thinking about her, he remembered the news Cary had dropped on him about Sheri mistaking Anna for . . . a girlfriend.

  Danny muttered a curse under his breath. All these months Sheri had been mad at him for something he didn’t do.

  Cary must have guessed where his mind had gone. “Listen, I meant what I said. You can’t let Sheri know what I told you.”

  “Yeah, all right,” Danny seethed.

  Parker, one of the regular black and whites, walked past. “Hey,” Cary said, stopping the guy. “What’s going on over on Main Street?”

  “A bomb in a UPS truck.”

  “A bomb?” Danny asked.

  “Well, a half-ass bomb. Looks like someone mailed it and it went off early, or else someone had it in for the driver. They called Houston bomb squad out, and they’re going over the truck to make sure there’s not another one in there. The FBI’s been called in.”