A soft knocking at the door announced the presence of the sketch artist. As soon as Marissa saw the woman she recognized her as the owner of the Desert Moon Cafe. Cherry Adams. She was a beautiful, exotic looking woman with caramel colored skin, long, wavy black hair and slanted, dark eyes that hinted of her Asian heritage. Marissa had always thought of her as gentle-natured and earthy. Her long, flowing skirt and jade jewelry lent her a natural, laid-back air. Cruz quickly hung up the phone and strode across the room to greet Cherry with a warm kiss on the cheek.
After introductions were made, Cherry sat down next to Marissa on a comfortable sofa and began to explain her process of making the sketch. In a kind and gentle manner, she explained the low-key way in which she worked with a witness.
“At no point do I ever want you to feel pressured or stressed. I try to put your images on paper so the Sheriff here can make an arrest. Pure and simple.”
Marissa nodded, then let out the deep breath she'd been holding. Her nerves were on edge and her hands were shaking with anxiety. You can do this!
“I understand you're having some trouble remembering,” Cherry said gently as she pulled out her sketch pad and charcoal pencils from her over-sized bag.
“Yes, I am,” Marissa admitted. “Most of my memories from that night are crystal clear. It's as if I'm simply blocking out the actual moments when Ronnie was killed.”
“That's not uncommon,” she said kindly, her dark eyes reflecting a deep understanding and compassion. “Sometimes there's a mechanism in the human mind that protects us from traumatic situations. Don't think you're the first person this has ever happened to, Marissa.”
A feeling of relief swept through her upon hearing Cherry's words. Having this weird type of amnesia made her feel like an oddity. It reminded her all too well of the fact that she couldn't remember anything about the first five years of her life. Perhaps after this ordeal was over she would take steps to uncover the mystery surrounding her background and the circumstances of her adoption.
“Why don't we begin with the things you do remember. Tell me about that night and I'll start sketching based on your descriptions.”
For the next half hour Marissa described the events of that evening in extreme detail, including details about her own appearance, the car she'd been driving and the atmosphere at the wharf. As she recounted the moment when she heard the gunshots ring out her palms began to break out in moist beads of sweat. She found herself describing Ronnie's slumped over body and the crimson stain on his shirt. Her breathing began getting ragged as she willed herself to remember the rest. She tried to continue but her mind went blank. There was nothing else she remembered after seeing Ronnie's dead body up until the point she'd been stopped by Cruz's squad car.
“Maybe we should stop now,” Cruz advised as he handed her a cold glass of water. She readily accepted it and quickly drank the contents.
She watched as Cherry and Cruz reviewed the sketches. Cruz's face was grim and guarded as he looked at Cherry's work. As usual, Marissa thought, he was keeping his cards close to the vest. She couldn't tell a single thing by looking at his face.
“May I see?” she asked, eager to see what Cherry had come up with in her sketches.
Cherry looked at Cruz for approval and he nodded his head in agreement. Cherry began to lay out all the sketches one by one on the coffee table. Marissa looked at the drawings with admiration. Cherry was an extremely talented artist. She'd brought the Wharf vividly to life in her sketches. She felt goosebumps pop up on her arms as she realized how chillingly accurate Cherry's sketches were.
“Remember when I asked you to think about the shooter's image? How tall he was, skin color, build, etc. This is what I drew based on your impressions.”
Marissa let out a cry of surprise as Ronnie's face stared back at her from the sketch Cherry was holding up. His deep set, wide eyes, olive skin and full lips had been rendered perfectly by the artist. A feeling of pity seized her insides as she thought about the life Ronnie would never get to live. He'd never get married. Never have a house full of kids. He'd never get the chance to straighten his life out and stop running the streets. Pity sliced through her at the senselessness of his death. She felt so badly for him and his grieving family.
“You basically described the victim,” Cruz with a grim expression.
“I'm still blocked,” she said with a shrug. “And no matter how I try I can't get the image of Ronnie being shot out of my head. I can't get past that one moment.”
Cherry patted her on the shoulder and said, “It's all part of the trauma. Go easy on yourself. What you witnessed was violent and disturbing. The human mind isn't really trained to absorb that kind of shock.”
All of a sudden the door burst open to reveal a very pregnant Sierra being trailed by a frazzled looking Caleb. Sierra moved through the doorway like a whirlwind, her copper colored hair swirling around her as she stormed into the room.
“What’s going on?” Cruz asked as Sierra swept passed him and threw herself at her best friend.
“Marissa, are you all right? I would've tracked you down yesterday, but certain people went to great lengths to make sure I didn't know anything about the shooting.” She shot Caleb a murderous glare. “Some people seem to think pregnant women can't handle bad news.”
Stealthily, Cherry got up from the sofa and quietly removed herself from the room, taking her art materials with her. Marissa hugged Sierra back with all her might as a feeling of immense relief flooded through her. She needed Sierra right now. After spending so many hours with only an Alpha male as her companion, she needed a healthy dose of estrogen. She desperately needed a sense of normalcy after the events of the last two days. What was more normal than her happily married, obscenely pregnant best friend?
Sierra slitted her eyes and looked back and forth between her husband and the Sheriff. “Some people seem to think I can't keep a secret.”
“I thought I told you to stay away,” Cruz said as he turned toward Caleb. “We don't want to draw any attention to the fact that Marissa is here and cooperating with the police investigation.”
“You try stopping a nine months’ pregnant woman from doing something,” Caleb said through gritted teeth. “I dare you.”
“You are so wrapped around Sierra’s finger,” Cruz said in a low voice.
Sierra swiveled her head around. “I heard that.” She wagged her finger at him. “Don't let me get started on you, Matt Cruz. You know darn well she's my best friend.”
“You guys really shouldn't be here. She's in protective custody!” Cruz said bluntly.
Sierra began to sniffle loudly, right before she burst into tears. “I just wanted to see her and make sure she was all right. She could have been killed in that shootout.”
“I'm fine, Sierra,” Marissa said as she comforted her friend. At this moment she didn't think she could love her best friend any more than she already did. It was so like Sierra to come rushing to her side for support. That had been her nature ever since they'd become BFFs in kindergarten. Whether it was taking her side in a playground tussle or helping her sew her prom dress, Sierra had always been on team Marissa. Even as an adult it was still nice to know your best friend would come racing to your side if circumstances called for it.Caleb looked at Cruz with dangerous eyes. “You made my wife cry.”
Marissa wanted to laugh at the look of panic that broke out on Cruz's face at Caleb's accusation. He furrowed his brow and shifted his weight from one foot to another before rooting around on his desk for a tissue which he handed to Sierra.
“I'm sorry if I made you cry,” he said awkwardly as Sierra swatted her eyes and nose with the tissue.
Sierra waved a hand at him and said, “It's not you. Pregnancy hormones are a beast. One minute I'm ready to argue over something silly and the next thing you know I'm crying over An Affair To Remember. I'm so ready to have this baby.”
“I can't wait to meet this little darling,” Marissa gushed as she reached out
and patted Sierra's stomach. “If he or she is anything like the two of you, they’re going to be some kind of amazing.” Just as her hand touched Sierra's belly she felt a forceful movement from within.
She let out a delighted shriek. “Oh my goodness! I felt a kick. That's amazing.”
Cruz's expression was a mixture of fascination and fear. His raven eyes were wide and full of wonder. He moved himself closer to Sierra and leaned his body forward so he had an unobstructed view. His eyes stayed glued to her mountainous bump, as if he was fearful he might miss something.
“Go ahead and put your hand on it, Matt. It won't bite you,” Sierra urged with a laugh.
Marissa watched him hesitate for a moment, his long, lean fingers resting at his sides. Seconds later he reached out and laid his hand across her belly so that his hand was side by side with her own. He practically jumped out of his skin as another strong kick was delivered.
“Whoa. You've got a little soccer player in here,” Cruz said as Caleb beamed with pride. Marissa and Cruz both smiled as the little one did a crazy tap dance inside Sierra's belly. As Marissa looked up to smile at Sierra she noticed her friend was watching her interplay with Cruz very carefully. Her eyes twinkled with delight and amusement.
“Yes, it is amazing,” Sierra said with a knowing smile. “Truly amazing.”
***
Shortly after they arrived back at Cruz's house he announced that Beau was coming to watch over her this evening.
“Why? Where are you going?” she asked, unable to hide her curiosity.
“I'm meeting up with some buddies at Tumbleweeds.”
Tumbleweeds. Cold beer, good music, lively dancing and the best buffalo wings in the state. After being cooped up inside for most of the day, Tumbleweeds sounded like an oasis in the desert. She could almost feel the crisp beer sliding down her throat, the spicy kick of the wings as they landed on her tongue and the pulsing rhythms of the blues band as people rocked the dance floor.
“I guess it's out of the question for me to tag along? I'm going a little stir crazy.”
“Absolutely out of the question. That's why Beau is coming over to keep watch over you.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That's the second time you've used the word watch. I'm not a toddler in case you didn't notice,” she said in a testy voice.
“Yes, I've noticed,” he said dryly. “Although at times you do act like one.”
She didn't trust herself to respond without giving him a tongue lashing, so for once she kept her mouth shut.
“Going to bed without your supper, jumping on my back, opening the windows when I told you to keep them closed,” he continued. “And you called me a stupid raging jerk. Or something like that.”
She couldn't help but smile. “You upset me. I reacted.”
“Well, go easy on Beau. He thinks you hung the moon.”
“He's sweet,” she said in a gushing voice. “And he's pretty easy on the eyes.”
He shot her a scathing look, then shook his head at her. “Don't play with him either. He has a mad crush on you. If you flirt with him, you'll get his hopes up.”
“How do you know I'm not into him?” she asked coolly.
“Are you?” he asked with a raised brow.
She waited a few beats before responding. “No, I'm not into Beau. He's like a little brother to me.”
She saw a look of relief wash over his face and she wondered what it meant. Did he think she was going to break Beau's heart? Or was he still convinced that she was the wicked witch of the west?
After Beau arrived, Cruz excused himself to change up his clothes, at which time she began to dig through a pile of dvds neatly placed on a book shelf. While she opted for a romantic comedy, Beau gravitated towards action movies starring actors who were known more for their muscles than their acting chops. In the end they compromised on an action packed comedy starring Will Smith.
When Cruz came back downstairs he was wearing a fresh pair of crisp Levis, a black button down shirt and a pair of snakeskin cowboy boots. His midnight colored hair hung sleekly around his shoulders and he smelled like a delicious mix of spicy and earthy musk. She felt a pang of disappointment as he walked out the door and she immediately stuffed the feeling down, not even wanting to address it with herself.
Spending time with Beau was a huge departure from passing time with his boss. Beau was easygoing and friendly, jovial and polite. There was no tension hovering in the air between them, no scornful glances or accusations about her character. Beau actually liked her. If she wasn't mistaken he seemed to have a little bit of a crush on her, which made him even more adorable. They watched the movie, ate popcorn and chatted up a storm, even gossiping a little bit about break-ups, hook-ups and love connections in town.
“Your boss seemed mighty eager to go to Tumbleweeds tonight,” she said in a conversational tone. She didn’t want Beau to sense her deep curiosity.
“Yeah, he seemed a little wound up if you ask me. Ronnie Devlin's murder is really weighing on him, ya know?”
“I used to go to school with Ronnie. We were in the same class at Liberty Elementary,” she said wistfully. Although she'd had no use for the criminal minded Ronnie as an adult, she couldn't help but reflect on his innocent days when they were classmates. He'd been somewhat of a goofball, always playing practical jokes and getting into mischief.
“Was he always in trouble?” Beau asked.
“Yeah, pretty much. He and his twin brother Andrew were nothing alike though. Ronnie couldn't stay away from trouble and Andrew wanted nothing to do with it.” She smiled as she remembered better times when they were simply kids playing double dutch on the playground. “I wonder how Andrew and his family are dealing with the news.”
“It was Andrew who went down to the morgue to identify him. From what I heard it was heart wrenching stuff.”
Goosebumps broke out over her body upon hearing Beau's words. She couldn't imagine how painful it must be to identify the body of your sibling in a cold, dank morgue. It was her worst fear in life. The thought of losing a family member in a random tragedy pulled strongly at her heartstrings. She didn't know if it was because she was adopted, but she always reacted very emotionally to family tragedies. Although she hadn't respected the way Ronnie was living his life, she hated the fact that someone had brutally taken it away from him.
Beau patted her on the knee. “Don't worry about Cruz. I'm sure Miss Grace will get him in a better mood.”
“Miss Grace?”
Beau started to blush. “I shouldn't have mentioned her. The sheriff likes to keep his personal life private. He'd have my hide if he knew I'd said anything.”
“He won't hear a thing from me,” she said smoothly.
Miss Grace? There was only one Grace in town, Marissa realized. Grace Wheeler, a brassy blonde with a fondness for anything in a pair of pants. She owned a woman’s clothing shop in town called Hit or Miss, and if the rumors were to be believed, Grace moved quickly from man to man. Humph! So that's the type of woman he likes!
She could just imagine Grace melting into Cruz’s arms the moment he sauntered into Tumbleweeds. Right about now she was probably slow dancing with him or sitting with him at the bar. The very thought of it made her sick to her stomach and feeling flushed.
“Are you feeling all right, Miss Marissa?”
“I'm fine,” she lied. “Just a little tired. I think I'm going to head off to bed.”
As she lay in bed reading a book she couldn't help but get distracted by thoughts of Cruz and Grace. Did he really find her attractive with all that blue eyeshadow and her low cut tops? Was he in love with Grace? She knew she was being ridiculous, but it bothered her that Cruz was out on the town with a scandalous woman like Grace. And it bothered her even more that she might not be able to sleep until he made it home tonight.
Chapter Six
It was fairly early in the evening when Matt decided to call it a night. When Grace invited him back to her place for a cup of co
ffee he'd turned her down flat, citing the fact that he had to get up in the morning for work. If she only knew, he thought, that his work entailed keeping tabs twenty-four/seven on the most beautiful woman in town.
Grace had been flirting with him all night, but all Cruz could think about was Marissa. Cruz cringed upon remembering the way Grace had looked at him with hurt and surprise in her eyes. It was all there on her face, the feelings she had for him that he could never reciprocate. Although he'd enjoyed going out to dinner with her every now and again, he'd always known it could never be anything more. He just didn’t have any romantic feelings for her. Well before his usual departure time he'd decided to call it a night.
“You wanna come over to my house for some coffee,” Grace had asked in a sugary sweet voice.
“Nah, Grace, I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”
Grace had quirked her mouth. “It's not like you to turn me down, Cruz. I figured we could talk over coffee and some cherry pie.”
“Don't take it personally,” he'd said as he glanced at his watch to check the time. Although it was only eleven, it felt like two in the morning. He idly wondered what Marissa and Beau were up to.
“Can't help it,” she said with a shrug. “It feels personal.” Grace's blue eyes started to get watery as she asked, “What's her name?”
“It's not like that, Grace,” he explained as a tingle of awareness shot through him.
Grace looked at him with knowing eyes. “You’ve never turned me down for coffee before and you have this look on your face.” She cocked her head to one side. “You seem like you’re somewhere else.”
“Goodnight, Grace,” he'd said as he leaned into her and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.
He felt badly for hurting her like that, but he couldn't continue to string her along when it was obvious she was catching feelings for him. He’d always liked her well enough as a dinner companion or someone to take out on the town, but lately he'd been feeling restless. Even though he'd never considered himself the settling down type, he was starting to wonder what it would feel like to belong to someone. Although he'd had some good times with Grace, he didn't kid himself that there would ever be more between them. It just wasn't like that.
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