Skin and Blond (Blond Noir Mysteries Book 1)

by V. J. Chambers

  I was a teenager. What can I say? Before the deaths of my parents, not much was incredibly important to me outside of my own little sphere of existence. I cared about my grades and my social life and the clothes I wore and my own friends. But I wasn’t much aware of anything going on beyond that.

  After my parents died, it felt like the world stopped making sense. Suddenly, I was forced to confront all kinds of unpleasant thoughts, like whether there was an afterlife or not.

  Trying to sort out my feelings on existentialism while also grieving wasn’t easy, and I turned to things that might distract me. Not drugs, of course. I knew that my parents’ killers had been on drugs, and I wasn’t the least bit interested.

  But, well… sex.

  I was living with my aunt at the time. She had two sons, both of whom were in college, and she was also reeling from the loss of her sister. She’d had her fill of parenting teenagers, however, and she wasn’t about to chase me around and create a whole bunch of rules and curfews. Anyway, I basically had free reign to do as I pleased.

  After the death of my parents, I hadn’t felt particularly close to my friends, with whom I had nothing to say, but I had been able to feel close to my boyfriend at the time. Physically close, anyway, because it wasn’t as if we really had long, deep conversations on the nature of existence or what happened after one died or anything like that. Instead, we made out. A lot.

  I liked making out with him. I think that was the first time I realized that the sensation of being physically close could block out all the bad stuff. It could make everything okay for a brief period of time, and I could forget all of my troubles.

  Of course, as teenage kids, making out all the time tends to lead to other things besides making out, and though I’d had some vague idea—before my parents died—of remaining a virgin until marriage, that just seemed ridiculous in the face of a broken, strange world in which people who had been walking around and talking could bleed their lives out all over the carpet. One day they were there. The next they were gone. Who cared about stupid crap like virginity after that?

  Hell, I could die tomorrow. I wanted to live while I was alive, even if it was a cheesy Bon Jovi lyric.

  We tried to be careful, too. We really did. But there were a series of various mishaps. Once, our condom broke. Once, it somehow got lost inside me after we were done. (That was a panicky thing, especially at fifteen years old. I wasn’t, at that point, comfortable with the idea of digging around in there with my fingers.) Anyway, it so happened that I found myself awaiting my period with trepidation one month.

  I was terrified.

  For the first time in our relationship, my boyfriend and I began to have actual conversations. Serious conversations about the future, and about what we’d do if these mishaps had resulted in life taking root in my very young womb.

  And I didn’t want that to have happened.

  I realized, right then, that I would have an abortion if I found out that I was pregnant. My life was far too fucked up as it was. I had no parents. I was reeling from their loss. I was confused and scared and lonely. And I didn’t want to be a mother. Nor did I want to get very, very pregnant and then give a baby away for adoption.

  Was it selfish?

  Maybe.

  But I reasoned that the thing that might hypothetically be growing inside me couldn’t live outside my body without my help. So it couldn’t really be a person yet. Or, at least, if it was a person, I was more of a person than it was, because I didn’t need to leach off someone else’s body to stay alive. Honestly, I couldn’t be asked to host this thing growing inside me for nine months just because it might someday be a person, could I?

  And in the end, maybe the rationalizations didn’t matter. I was still a teenager, still self-centered. I wasn’t ready.

  Anyway, I never had to make the decision, because my period came like it always did. It was two days late, of course—the worst two days of my young life besides the days surrounding my parents’ murder—but it came.

  No, near as I could tell, I’d never been pregnant.

  But the question was one that I returned to from time to time. What would I do now? I wasn’t exactly a stable person, considering all the drinking I did. Hell, if I got pregnant, I guessed I’d have to give up drinking for nine months.

  I made a face.

  Maybe, in some ways, I was still too selfish for pregnancy.

  But I did remember the day that Miles had come into my office and asked me point blank if I ever thought about having a family… I did feel wistful about it. After all, I’d lost my parents, and—to this day—I felt their loss like a gaping hole. Maybe a family of my own would fill that up.

  But…

  It was silly to think about that.

  Anyway, I did my best to make sure that I didn’t get pregnant. I used birth control. I used condoms. It had never happened before, and I was getting old for it now. Sure, it was still possible, but I’d heard that fertility really declined in a woman’s thirties.

  Hopefully, it was something I’d never have to worry about.

  Sometimes, I supposed, I did think about the distant future, when I was very old and very alone…

  But I was alone now, and I managed just fine. No, I didn’t think there was any point in worrying about that—

  “Ivy,” whispered a voice at my back.

  I whirled.

  There was Brigit, holding open the exit door for me. I scurried inside.

  She closed the door after me. She had a small white cup in one hand.

  “Is that your pee?” I said.

  She glared at me. “They’re going to wonder where I am.”

  I looked around. We’d emerged into a nondescript hallway, with closed doors on each side. I began opening the doors. “You go ahead back then.”

  “No, because how will I find you?”

  The first door led into an examining room. I shut it. “Just wait for me in the car after your appointment.”

  “Oh, no. I’m not taking all the risks and then not getting to see any of the information.”

  I opened the next door. Another examining room. “Well, then I guess you can wait until I find someplace to hide.”

  “How about here?” She yanked open a door marked Supplies.

  It was a closet. The fit would be tight, but I could squeeze in between the hanging lab coats. “Great,” I said, grinning. “You’re a natural, Brigit.”

  She smiled back.

  “Come back for me after the office is closed.”

  * * *

  I was in that dark closet for a long time. It felt like hours, but every time I would check my phone, only fifteen minutes had passed.

  We’d timed Brigit’s appointment to coincide with the end of the day, so the office should be closing fairly soon, but that didn’t mean that it was comfortable in a cramped closet with no light.

  I bided my time, waiting for Brigit.

  Eventually, according to my phone, the office should have been shut down for the day. But I knew that sometimes it took a while to get everyone to go home for the day, so I waited.

  I waited for a half an hour.

  I wondered if Brigit had been unable to sneak back to me. Maybe they’d watched her like a hawk after the appointment, and she’d had to leave. Maybe she was in the car waiting, and I should just leave the closet and go for the files.

  I started to open the door, when I had a worse thought. What if they’d figured out that Brigit had lied about who she was? That she’d made up her name and her address and her allergies? What if she’d gotten in trouble?

  She’d never give me up. She wasn’t the type. But if she’d been arrested or something, I was going to feel really bad. How would I make it up to her?

  I cringed in the closet, imagining the worst.

  And then Brigit opened the door.

  The hallway outside was dark. “Sorry,” she said. “I had to hide in the bathroom until I was sure everyone was gone.”

&nb
sp; “So, everyone’s gone?” I stepped out into the darkened hall.

  She nodded. “Come on. Let’s go look up Sarah Aaron’s files.”

  We padded over the carpet, through the darkness, to the front desk. I was glad I had Brigit with me, because she knew her way around the place now, having been roaming around for her appointment and sneaking me inside. I would have wandered about trying to find my way.

  “So,” she said, “I noticed that they put all my stuff in a file folder, and there are tons of cabinets back there. They do have computer files, but I think they keep the paper as a backup.”

  “Great,” I said, heading for the cabinets. I began searching the labels, looking for the right alphabetical combination for Sarah.

  “Only problem is that they’re locked,” she said.

  I smirked at her, pulling out my lock picks. Kitty had taken one, but I had spares. Lock picks were probably my most important private investigator accessory. No way was I going to leave it at one set.

  It was easier to pick the cabinet locks than it was to pick door locks, and we were looking through both Sarah’s files and Madison’s within a few minutes.

  But the first thing that I saw in Sarah’s file was a big disappointment. She wasn’t having an abortion. She wasn’t even pregnant. The appointment she’d missed was for a routine pap smear and birth control.

  “Well, there goes our right-wing kidnapper theory,” I said. “Sarah wasn’t pregnant.”

  “Oh,” said Brigit. “Well, why was she coming here for an appointment?”

  “Pap smear,” I said.

  Brigit looked visibly disappointed.

  I felt a little bit like the wind had been taken out of my sails too. “But they were both patients here, so there’s got to be some connection. You’ve got Madison’s file, right? Did they see the same doctor? Did Madison see Dr. White?”

  Brigit shook her head. “Dr. Mills.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Um… okay, well, let’s just make photocopies of all of this stuff, and we’ll analyze it in more detail back in the office tomorrow.”

  Brigit brightened. “Good idea. I’m sure that we’ll be able to make better sense of it in the office. This isn’t a great environment for thinking things out.”

  * * *

  I spent the evening pouring over the two files. I didn’t go out at all, even though I’d usually at least hit up the bar for a drink or two. I was still reeling from last night’s all-out drinkfest, and I actually thought that I could stand a break. I figured that I might wake up a wee bit hungover tomorrow as it was. It still felt like there was liquor sloshing through my system, and I wasn’t functioning on all cylinders.

  It was frustrating, but I couldn’t find any connection between the two girls in the doctor’s files. They were both around the same age, and they both had gone to the same clinic for care, probably because neither of them had health insurance through their jobs and the clinic was low cost.

  Beyond that, I couldn’t find anything, and it was driving me nuts.

  I actually was wishing it was time to go back into the office already, because I wanted to get Brigit’s take on it. I couldn’t believe I’d come this far with her. She’d gone from an annoying assistant to a person who’s opinion I sought out. Really, I just needed another set of eyes on the whole thing. There had to be something I was missing.

  I’d spent so much time on Madison’s case, and now this new piece of evidence had sent me right back to square one. I was going to need to go back through all of the suspects, see if any of them were connected to Sarah as well.

  But was it worth it? Curtis and Debbie had an alibi. Brian had one too. Who else had I even suspected?

  The O’Shaunessys!

  Did Sarah have some kind of connection to the O’Shaunessys? How could I even find that out? I knew better than to approach Colin again. Maybe that girl at the college. Cori Donovan. She might know something. As long as she was still okay. The last time I’d seen her, she’d been frightened of O’Shaunessy retribution.

  While I was at it, I supposed I could take a crack at Sarah Aaron’s medical contact, which was some guy named Jackson Cohen. Maybe that was her father. It was reasonable that people didn’t always have the same last names as their parents these days. But somehow I doubted it.

  I was going to solve this. I was committed now, and I was going to find both of these girls, even if all I found were their bodies.

  There was a knock on my door.

  That was odd. I didn’t get visitors very often. It was probably some college kid looking for a house party. Probably had the wrong apartment. I went out to the door anyway and opened it.

  It was Crane.

  I felt my face flush. “Hey,” I said. “I’m sorry about last night.”

  “Oh, it’s okay,” he said. “You’ve seen me worse.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I said. “I was pretty wasted.”

  “Don’t give it another thought,” he said. “I’m not one to judge. I just didn’t see you out tonight, and I got a little worried.”

  That actually made me feel good. It was nice to know that someone noticed when I didn’t show up at the bar. “I’m fine. I just drank enough for two nights last night.”

  He laughed.

  “You, um, want to come in?” I moved away from the door. “Or are you just stopping by?”

  He shrugged and squeezed past me into the apartment. “What are you getting into tonight?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “I was doing some work for a case—”

  “You got a new case already?”

  “Oh, no, I’m just working on the Madison Webb thing still, even though I’m not getting paid. Pike kicked me a lead, and I’m chasing it down. I feel like I’ve got to see this through, you know?”

  He shrugged. “You know me. I’m not one for seeing things through. I’m one for giving up.”

  I laughed, heading back into my kitchen. “I think I’ve got some beer in the fridge if you want.”

  “If it’s Miller High Life—”

  “It’s not,” I said. “Someone left it here. It’s Dos Equis.”

  “Someone, as in some age-inappropriate conquest?”

  I cringed. “I thought you weren’t going to judge me for last night. I’m sorry I said that. You’re right I have no room to talk.”

  “I was just teasing you,” he said.

  I opened the refrigerator door. “You want a beer or not?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  We each took a beer and went into the living room.

  Crane sat down on the couch and pulled out what remained of the loaf of bread I’d been eating last night. He raised his eyebrows.

  I snatched it from him.

  “It wasn’t, you know,” said Crane.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Age inappropriate,” he said. “It was some newly-divorced woman with three kids at home. She was nervous. Said she hadn’t been with anyone except her ex in years. The sex wasn’t bad, but I kind of felt like I was doing her a favor.”

  I laughed.

  He grinned at me. “Are we crazy, Ivy?”

  I took a drink of my beer. “We are. Most definitely. But why are you asking me that?”

  “You and me,” he said. “We work on some level, don’t we?”

  I looked up at the ceiling. “Oh God, Crane, let’s not have this conversation.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Why not? You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

  “You’re going to say we could be together or something. That things between us could be more… defined.”

  He chuckled. “Oh hell no, I wasn’t going to say that.”

  My turn to raise my eyebrows. “No?”

  He grinned at me, eyes twinkling, and he was beautiful. “No, I like things the way they are. I like that we each have our own space, and that there isn’t any pressure between us—no strings, you know? But that we still care about each other, that we’re still
there for each other.”

  I sniffed, turning away from him in an exaggerated huff. “I see. So, you don’t want to be with me officially. I’m not good enough for you.”

  He laughed again. “Did I offend you?”

  I laughed too, turning back. “I was teasing, silly.”

  “I know.” He reached over and stroked my cheek. “I just like that you’re here. Right now.”

  I smiled. “Me too.”

  He pulled me close. His lips found mine, and he eased his tongue into my mouth with a casual skill that only came from having kissed me so often.

  I sighed, closing my eyes and surrendering.

  He took my beer from me and set it down next to his. His fingers traveled under my shirt, brushing my bare skin, making me gasp.

  I put my arms around his neck, sliding my hands over his broad shoulders.

  He pushed me down on the couch. His mouth was at my ear, his voice a hoarse whisper. “I want you right here, face down in the pillows with your ass in the air and my hands full of your tits.”

  I shivered. “Yes,” was all I said.

  And then I was lost to it, lost to the bliss of the present moment.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Andrew Webb waved a piece of paper in my face. “You’ve lost your mind, you crazy bitch.”

  I had just stepped inside my office for the day, and I was still clutching my coffee. I’d drifted to work in a happy haze, brought on by a particularly nice night with Crane, followed by our sharing breakfast like an old married couple. Before this, I’d been feeling pretty good.

  Now I had a guy who liked to fuck his sister screaming at me, and I had no idea why.

  Brigit waved at me from behind him. “Hi. Sorry. He wouldn’t leave until he saw you.”

  “I’m not paying this!” said Andrew.

  “Paying what?” I said.

  “Your bill,” he said. “I got it in the mail today, and if you think I’m going to give money to a woman who slandered my good name and destroyed my marriage, well, you’ve lost your mind.”