by Cat Clayton
“Can you imagine the guilt she will feel over Lloyd being killed?” I closed my eyes and burrowed closer into his shoulder.
“So, his body had the Christmas lights draped around his neck, but we found a gunshot wound to the chest.”
“Are you saying he wasn’t strangled with the Christmas lights?”
“Yeah, someone staged the entire murder scene. I’m not sure I’ll ever forget it.” Jackson shrugged.
“Me either.” I shuddered. “What about the Santa? Did anyone locate and question him?”
“We tried, but when we reached the B & B where the group was staying, they’d already checked out. We also questioned Earl Wood. Claims he only knew him through an acquaintance, and the money transaction you mentioned at the scene was for the sale of a car. We notified DPS and gave them a description of the Santa in question. Keep your fingers crossed they didn’t think it was a joke between departments,” he said, chuckling.
“What do you mean a joke?”
“Well, when we notified them to be on the lookout for a group of Santas, they laughed.”
“They laughed at y’all?”
“Yup. I believe their exact reply was, ‘Did they make a getaway in a big red sleigh pulled by eight tiny reindeer?’”
“If I hadn’t witnessed the creepy Santa fleeing the scene, I might find some humor in the situation. But there’s nothing funny about murder.”
“I know,” Jackson said.
Chiquita, I believe this Christmas is goin’ straight to the dogs.
You can say that again, Cuff.
I believe this Christmas is goin’ straight to the dogs.
I peered over at Cuff and Taffy lounging on the recliner. Cuff yawned, his fluttering eyelids were half-closed as he tried to fight off sleep. I felt my own eyes closing, the voices on the TV fading.
“Steely? You awake?”
“Hmm? What? Sure, I’m awake.” I peeled my sticky eyes open.
Jackson shifted from underneath me, stood, and scooped me up with little effort.
“All right, buttercup. It’s bedtime.”
Goodnight, Chiquita.
Night, little buddy, I thought. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out.
I ROSE WITH THE SUN, and Jackson was already up, getting dressed for his shift. I opened my eyes, inhaling the aroma of coffee and wrinkled my nose. Yuck.
Jackson tiptoed in the room.
“Good morning,” I said, smiling up at him.
“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” he asked, looking stunning in his uniform. He bent his head and pecked me on the lips.
I quickly pulled back. “Morning breath.”
He grinned. “Buttercup, you breathed your morning breath on me for twenty minutes after I woke up.”
“What?” I asked, horrified at the thought. “Why?”
“I love watching you sleep.” His dark bedroom eyes were talking serious business.
“You watch me while I sleep?”
“Every chance I get,” he said, straightening out his uniform shirt and tucking it perfectly into his trousers.
“You’re weird, but in a good way,” I said, tossing off my duvet. “I need to get up.”
“Wait. Hold that thought,” he said, dashing out of my room. Seconds later, he waltzed back in and brought me a steaming mug. “Hot tea for the lady.”
“Oh my goodness, I love you!” I held the warm cup between my hands, inhaling the citrus scent of Earl Grey.
“I know you do.” He pulled his vest over his shirt and adjusted the Velcro straps tighter. “I need to go. I already took the dogs out for a break, and they’ve eaten their breakfast. Cuff had his steroid pill, and they’re sleeping on the couch.”
“You are a dream,” I said, reaching up for him.
He bent down and kissed me, this time longer, expecting more.
I mumbled against his lips. “I’m not letting you kiss me without brushing my teeth.”
“It’ll have to wait. I’m running behind. Listen, your sister is meeting with the sketch artist from Houston today. Chief Becker says Stoney is requesting you be there with her. Can you make it at 10:00 AM?”
I gave him a thumbs up, sipping my tea.
“Love you, bye,” he said, waving. “I’ll grab the spare shop key and lock up behind me.”
I heard the apartment door close and him traipsing down the steps. Glancing at my cell phone and the time, I leaned back against the headboard and enjoyed my cup of tea. I had a full hour before Daniel arrived and clients knocked at the front door.
I lay there, relaxing and enjoying the quietness when my cell buzzed. Pop. Cringing, I swiped the screen to answer his call, wondering what kind of creepy gift he’d found.
“Hello, Pop.”
“Hi, how are you feeling this morning? Have you recovered from last night? Jackson stayed with you, right? Do you need anything?” He raced through his questions.
“Good morning. Everything is fine. Yes, Jackson stayed. And no, I don’t need anything.”
“Sorry, Steels.” I heard a sigh bleed through the phone. “I’m very anxious.”
“Did you find another baby gift?”
“No. Not yet. But I’m worried about your sister and keeping Lloyd’s death from her.”
“I agree. It’s a bad idea. But we’ll get back to that. About your anxiety, how many cups of coffee have you had?” I asked.
“Three.”
“Maybe two too many?”
Another sigh.
“Listen, everything will work out. Daniel will be here in forty-five minutes, so I need to get moving. Try not to worry about me. I promise, I’m fine. After Stoney meets with the sketch artist, we’ll tell her about Lloyd, together.”
“Okay, good. And that’s the other reason I’m calling. Stoney doesn’t want me in the room when she meets with the artist. She wants you with her.” I heard the disappointment in his voice.
“I’ve been notified. Don’t worry, I’ll be there,” I said, reassuring him. “And Pop, this will be a very difficult process for Stoney. But I believe the reason she doesn’t want you in there isn’t because she’s trying to shut you out. I think it’s because she doesn’t want you to hear the horrible things she went through. She’s trying to shield you from any further pain.”
I heard him sniffle. After a long pause, he cleared his throat. “Thank you, Steels. That helps. I’ll see you at the police department. I love you.”
“Love you, too. Bye.”
We disconnected. I jumped out of bed, threw on a pair of jeans, a soft teal sweater, and slipped my feet into an adorable pair of brown leather ankle booties with fringed tassels. After I brushed my teeth, whipped my unruly short wisps into submission, and powdered my nose, I went to check on the pups.
I found Cuff and Taffy stretched out on the wood floor in the living room, catching the early morning sun rays streaming through the sliding glass door. It made me happy to know the steroids worked their magic on Cuff’s arthritis and see him back to his old self.
Hi, Chiquita! The sun feels amazing this morning! You should try it!
“It’ll have to wait, Cuff. I have an important appointment this morning.” I left the door cracked and jogged down the steps. One half of me was excited about meeting with the sketch artist. The other half dreaded what I would learn.
Chapter 21
“Y’all can have a seat here,” Chief Becker said, pointing to two chairs. “Ms. O’Reilly will be back in a few minutes.” He left Stoney and I alone, pulling the door closed behind him.
“You nervous?” I asked, observing the sketching supplies on the desk in front of us.
Stoney’s soft brown eyes were wide. “A little.”
“I’m right here,” I said, offering her a supportive smile.
The door opened and a curvy woman, middle-aged, with long, wavy jet-black hair, entered the small room. “Good morning,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Alexandra O’Reilly.”
We took turns shaking h
er warm hand. She glided around the desk with the movements of an exotic dancer and took a seat behind it. She gazed directly at Stoney, and with a deep, scratchy voice, said, “You must be Stoney.”
Stoney nodded.
Ms. O’Reilly’s enchanting eyes locked on mine. “Which must make you Steely.”
I found her eyes mesmerizing; one was a bright green, and the other the same green but with a brown star-shaped spot. They reminded me of the lively green grass at the dawn of spring following a harsh winter. Hopeful and resilient.
“Yes, ma’am.” I tried not to stumble on my words. The woman was a blend of grace and grit, reminding me a lot of Mama for some odd reason.
Her smile illuminated the room.
“Alexandra is a beautiful name,” I said, still fangirling.
“It was my grandmother’s name. Thank you. I prefer to go by Alex, especially working in a predominately male field. It helps.” She pulled the wheeled chair closer to the desk and folded her hands together. “Stoney, or would you prefer Ms. Lamarr?”
“Stoney is fine.”
“Good. I will show you one of my favorite books.” She pointed to a book next to her supplies. “It is a book for sketch artists, and it will help us in putting together a composite sketch for our police friends to find the person they’re looking for. While you look through the book, I’ll ask you questions, and I’ll sketch as we chat. Will that be okay with you?”
“Yes,” Stoney said in a timid voice.
Alex’s eyes focused on Stoney as she slowly reached over and held out her right hand. “Take my hand.”
Without hesitation, Stoney leaned forward and took Alex’s hand.
“Are you afraid?” Alex asked.
“Yes, a little.”
“You don’t have to be. You are safe. You are in a safe place. And you are with safe people. Okay?”
Stoney nodded.
“Let’s all take five deep breaths together. Everyone, close your eyes,” Alex said, her eyelids fluttering shut.
Stoney and I did the same. And within two breaths, we were all on the same rhythm, inhaling and exhaling, and as we did, the tension dissipated from the room.
“There, feeling better?” Alex asked.
Feeling like I was in la-la land, I glanced at Stoney. She smiled at Alex.
“Yes, thank you,” she said.
Alex squeezed her hand and let go. She retrieved the large hardcover book and turned it to face us, pushing it in our direction. “Now, Stoney, I want you to turn to the first section I have tagged with the green tab. It’ll show you several pages of different shapes of faces. We’ll start there.”
Stoney scooted her chair forward and opened the book to the green tab. While she studied the sketched illustrations, Alex set up a small tabletop easel, opened her sketchpad and pencils, and set up her workspace.
“Now, can you show me the illustration that best fits the man who you were with?”
“His name is Larry,” Stoney said, running her finger across the pages.
“All right, will you point out which face shape Larry has?”
Stoney nodded, flipping a page forward and scanning it. She turned to the next page, then back to the first page of the section.
“Sometimes, it helps to close your eyes, breathe, and focus on his face,” Alex suggested.
Stoney sat with her eyes closed and head tilted slightly to the left, breathing. Just when I thought Alex’s little trick wouldn’t work, Stoney opened her eyes, went to the first page, and pointed.
“This one,” Stoney said.
“You sure?” Alex asked.
“Yes,” Stoney said, nodding her head.
For an hour, Stoney pointed at the shapes of eyes, noses, ears, lips, hairlines, chins, and cheekbone structures. Alex sketched, asking questions about such things as his eye-color, eyebrows, skin tone, hair color, facial hair, scars or any other distinguishing marks, height, weight, and body build. She also asked questions regarding his demeanor, personality, the way he usually dressed, and if he ever smiled, and if so, she’d draw a separate sketch with him smiling since a smile could change a lot about the face. According to Stoney, he never smiled.
Stoney hung in there, giving Alex every detail she recalled.
“You’re doing a wonderful job, Stoney. There are just a few more things I need from you, and then we’ll wrap this up. Some of my questions might be painful to answer. But knowing these things will help me capture him more clearly. His essence. This will help me produce a more accurate sketch. Forensic sketching isn’t an exact science. Each artist draws upon all their senses while also listening to the victims or witnesses. Our goal is to do the best work to our ability. Okay?”
“Yes,” Stoney said, closing the book and sitting back in her chair.
‘Essence’ sounded like a strange thing for a sketch artist to need to know, but then again, Alex O’Reilly didn’t feel like your normal artist either. She seemed to have a sixth or maybe even a seventh sense about her.
“I want you to relax, Stoney. Close your eyes and listen to the sound of my voice. When did you first meet Larry?”
With her eyes closed, she answered. “When I was sixteen.”
My blood cooled in my veins. Quietly, I twisted in my chair, looking at my sister.
“Where were you?” Alex asked.
“On the main road that leads out of town.” Stoney’s eyes fluttered.
“Why were you out on the road?”
“I ran away from my parents. I was angry with them, and I wanted to get as far from them as possible. So, I walked. But it got dark, and I was getting tired.”
“Did this Larry person ask you if you needed a ride?”
Stoney nodded.
“Did you get into his car?”
She nodded again. “I told him I needed to get out of town, but I didn’t know where. He said if I wanted, he could find me work in Houston, and I could stay with him for a while. So, I did. I thought when I was ready, I’d come home.”
“Tell me what you recall about him on the evening he picked you up. Any details will be helpful.
Stoney’s lips trembled, and a tear slipped from her eye. I whipped my head toward Alex, but before I could open my mouth to tell her to stop, she shook her head and softly put a finger to her lips.
Stoney’s memories of him on the night she disappeared were vague, and she slipped into details about her stay with him instead. “I... I, um, I knew after the second day, I was in serious trouble. He refused to let me go. Told me he needed me to work for him. There were other girls with me there. We all worked for him.” Stoney gulped, tears streaming down her cheeks.
I wanted to reach out, hold her, but I didn’t want to interrupt her. In my guts and in my heart, I knew she needed to do this.
“What did you do for Larry?” Alex asked.
“We would go with other men. On dates. They would pay us, and we brought the money to Larry. I know this was wrong. I understand now. But most of the time, we were on drugs or drinking alcohol, sometimes both.”
“Would he ever yell at you? Hurt you?”
Stoney’s face changed, anger set in, and she sat rigid in her chair. Gripping the handrails, the blood rushed from her fingertips. Her voice quivered as she spoke.
“Yes, sometimes he and the others would hit us. Larry would tell us we needed to do more. Get more money. He called us lazy and said we had to pay our way to live there. And, if we didn’t do what he said, he’d find our families and kill them. I didn’t want him to hurt my family.” She’d stopped crying.
“Tell me about his face when he got angry. How would it change?”
Alex sketched as Stoney spoke. I cringed, losing the battle against my tears.
“When I was about twenty, he and I became involved. I stopped working the streets, and I also started taking care of the younger girls. We’d go to the store for clothes and food. From other stories I’ve heard in therapy, despite how weird it sounds, we lived well. Better than oth
ers I know. But I had a feeling my time was short. A few of the other girls had told me they had been with Larry as well. One of them had overheard Larry and one of his partners talking about taking care of me because I’d gotten pregnant.”
“Well, I’m glad you are home and safe with a family who loves you,” Alex said, setting down her pencil. “You can open your eyes now, Stoney. You did such an amazing job. Thank you for sharing your story with me. I wish you nothing but love, light, and healing.” She reached her hand out once again.
Stoney reached forward and took it. “Thank you for listening. Talking to you is so easy.”
“Good. Well, it may help you to know, I’ve experienced my own traumatic experience, different from yours. But after I healed, I knew I could help others,” Alex said, removing the sketchbook off the easel. “Do you want to see? It’s up to you. I like to make sure I get it as close as I can, but I’m confident I’ve captured him. You don’t have to look at it though.”
It seemed strange she didn’t ask Stoney to make sure she had everything correct in the sketch. Is it possible she’s that good? I thought. Chief Becker had told Pop she’d helped solve over one-thousand cases in Houston, Austin, San Antonio, and Dallas. She visited the various departments when they needed her special talents.
Stoney shook her head. “No, I’d rather never have to see his face again.”
I wanted to see it, but I didn’t ask.
Alex rolled her chair back and stood up. “Okay then, ladies, it’s been an honor meeting you and helping you, Stoney.” She came around to our side of the desk.
We both stood and Stoney moved past me and embraced Alex.
“Thank you again,” she whispered.
“You’re welcome, dear. I hope it helps.” She broke free from Stoney’s arms and rested her hand on the doorknob. Alex turned her head back toward us. “Chief Becker has my contact information if you ever need to get a hold of me.” She opened the door and motioned for us to step out into the hall.
Jackson was waiting for us. “Done?”
“Yes,” I said.
Chief Becker stepped out of his office and headed toward us. “Thank you for coming in, Ms. Lamarr, both of you. We’ll get this sketch in the morning edition of the paper and fax it out to the area departments. Your father’s waiting for you in the lobby.”