Wink of an Eye

by Lynn Chandler Willis

  “Don’t go.”

  “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

  I went back into the bathroom and rung out the pile of laundry as best I could. I found her washer and dryer in a hallway utility closet. I dropped the clothes in the washer and hoped the blood would wash out without leaving a stain of bad memories.

  I wondered what size her partner wore and if he kept any clothes at her place. From what I had seen of the apartment, Sophia lived alone. It was definitely a woman’s place.

  I went back to the bedroom and was going to ask about the partner but she reached behind her and pulled back the comforter. I dropped the damp towel and climbed in behind her. She was curled into a fetal position, and pushed herself backward until she was snuggled against me. She pulled my arm across her, our fingers wrapped around one another’s.

  She smelled so clean, so innocent. Like it was really possible, I tugged her closer and nuzzled her neck. I felt her breath settle into a steady rhythm, a rhythm that matched my own. Once I knew she was sound asleep, I closed my own eyes and drifted off to a world that included Sophia Ortez.

  * * *

  I wasn’t expecting her to snore. Unless I’ve got a bottle of Black Label in me, I’m a pretty light sleeper. Comes with the territory. And I’ve slept with my share of women. Even woken up in the middle of the night and crept out unnoticed. But Sophia Ortez, possibly the sexiest woman on earth, took the prize for snoring. Deep, lip-smacking, wet gasps that rattled the blinds. It was not a Barry White moment.

  I was happy she was sleeping so soundly. I wished I could catch an hour or so before daybreak. I was picking Tatum up at ten and taking him to the sinkholes. After that, I figured I’d check in with Ranger Rick. And somewhere in my schedule for the day, I was going to have to include a nap.

  My stomach was past empty and protested unheard above Sophia’s sleep apnea. I eased out of bed, wrapped the towel around my waist, then headed to the kitchen in search of food.

  There were a couple cans of soup in the pantry, a few cans of tuna, some wheat crackers, and a box of Cocoa Puffs. I checked the fridge for milk. Bingo. I checked the expiration date. Still good.

  I poured myself a bowl of cereal and ate as I checked out the apartment. I was curious about this partner she had breathlessly mentioned while ripping my pants off the other night in Rhonda’s front yard. I thumbed through a few pieces of mail she had in an organizer in the corner of the counter. All addressed to Sophia Ortez. The apartment’s décor wasn’t ultra-feminine, but it definitely wasn’t masculine, either. It wasn’t even middle-of-the road compromise. It was all Sophia. No two people can have the same taste in everything. The flat screen television was moderate, connected only to a cable box and DVR, no PlayStation 3 or other game consoles to raise the testosterone level. The bookshelf was jammed with reference and self-help books geared toward women’s interests. The few fiction titles were thick paperback romance novels, their spines frayed and faded. I grinned as I imagined Sophia propped up in bed, that fluffy down comforter covering her bare legs, thoroughly lost in a book that had a guy in a white pirate shirt on the cover.

  There was no indication anyone other than Sophia Ortez lived in this apartment. Maybe it was one of those friends-with-benefits relationships? Maybe he was a fellow journalist, someone she worked with—like a partner in crime?

  The snoring could explain a lot. Maybe he had tried to stay over, maybe even move in, but valued a good night’s sleep over good sweaty sex. What an idiot.

  I went back into the kitchen and spotted a coffeemaker tucked into the corner of the counter. I scrounged around the cabinet until I found a can of coffee and a bag of filters. While the coffee brewed, I dug our clothes out of the washer, then tossed them into the dryer.

  I rinsed out the cereal bowl, poured a cup of steaming coffee, then took it out on the small deck to enjoy. It was a wooden deck, maybe twelve by six, with a wrought-iron table and two chairs. The sun was still an hour away from creeping over the treetops, but darkness was already fading, giving way to a brand-new day. I watched a rabbit dart in and out of a row of bushes then disappear into the darkness. I wondered if it was running back home, or away.

  I wondered why I ran home. When the whole Gina Gilleni case went south, I headed straight for the one place I fought so hard to leave. It wasn’t a family thing—I talked to Rhonda or Mom on the phone sometimes once a week. They came out to Vegas fairly often. When they came, I showed them a good time. Gram loved the nickel slots and Rodney loved the complimentary drinks in the casinos. Rhonda and Mom loved the shows and the shopping. Me—I loved riding up into the mountains at night and looking down at all the lights. There wasn’t a hooker in Vegas flashier than the grand whore herself. Never understood why I despised the loneliness of west Texas but fled to the mountains overlooking Vegas every chance I got. I probably needed to see a shrink.

  I went back inside and refilled my coffee, then turned the television on, the volume on low. The early-morning news was in full swing as the heavy-eyed anchor thanked Tom the weatherman for another blistering forecast. Frank, the anchor, looked like he needed an IV line of Starbucks’s strongest.

  As he turned and faced the camera head-on, a graphics box containing a picture of crime-scene tape popped onto the screen over his left shoulder. “Winkler County is still in shock over the apparent suicide of Sheriff Gaylord Denny,” he said, reading from the teleprompter.

  Apparent, my ass. The man blew his brains out. There was no apparent about it.

  “Authorities are being tight-lipped about the investigation,” Frank continued, then introduced a video. “Megan Gruber has more from outside the sheriff’s office in Kermit.”

  The video had been shot yesterday with a crowd gathered in front of Denny’s office. Megan Gruber looked like a summer intern who had been thrown into a live shot of the most explosive story of the year because everyone else was on vacation. She spit her words out like she was blowing out birthday candles. “Authorities haven’t ruled out foul play but did say it does appear the sheriff did take his own life. What we do know is at approximately ten A.M. a man and a woman, identified as Private Investigator Michael Moran and Sophia Ortez, a reporter with the Odessa Record, were with the sheriff in his office when the death occurred. The reason for Moran and Ortez’s visit isn’t known at this time but it is believed to concern an investigation Moran was conducting involving the sheriff.”

  “So it wasn’t just a bad dream,” Sophia said.

  I glanced over my shoulder. “Afraid not.”

  She sighed heavily, then padded into the kitchen, her bare feet falling lightly on the slate floor. “I see you found the coffee.” Her voice was gravelly and full of morning hoarseness. Probably had something to do with the snoring.

  “I kinda made myself at home.” I followed her into the kitchen and pulled her to me, lightly kissing the top of her head. She didn’t pull away. She laid her head on my shoulder.

  “Thanks for staying last night,” she whispered. “And for not … you know … expecting anything.”

  “Today’s not over.”

  She playfully smacked my shoulder, then shook her head. “You’re such a jerk.” She poured herself a cup of coffee, then topped off mine.

  “I’m sorry you didn’t get the scoop. I wasn’t expecting it to end that way.”

  She made an exaggerated expression, then laughed sarcastically. “I don’t think anyone could have predicted that.” She held her coffee mug—it was pink with green embossed ivy wrapping around it and up the handle—blowing lightly into her coffee as if to cool it. “I’ve seen dead bodies before. I’m not a total rookie. But I’ve never seen…”

  “You’ve never seen it happen. It can be a jolt to the psyche.”

  She finally took a sip of her coffee. “Will I ever not see it?”

  I slowly shook my head. I wasn’t going to lie to her. “You just won’t see it as often.”

  She looked so small standing there, barefooted, in nothing b
ut a tank top and her white cotton panties. Her hair was a mess, flat in places and mussed up in others. She had a faint pillow impression on one cheek. I’d never wanted her more.

  I was still only wearing last night’s towel. The stirrings down below were going to be noticeable soon. I turned away and went into the living room before confirming her claim I was a jerk. “So … even if you didn’t get the scoop, you’re going to have the best exclusive, right?” I asked over my shoulder.

  “I suppose. I guess being a witness would give me a leg up on the competition.” She followed me into the living room and sat down on the sofa, her gloriously long legs pulled up and crossed Indian style.

  I smiled. “Yes, but a real journalist doesn’t put themself in the story.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “A real journalist? Excuse me?”

  I sat down beside her and stretched my legs out, propping my feet on the old luggage trunk she used for a coffee table. “You’re the best journalist in the field. That’s why I chose you.”

  She burst out laughing. “You chose me because I was the only one who wrote an article, if you can call it that, on Burke McCallen’s shooting.”

  “You were a girl after my own heart even then.”

  She tossed her head back and laughed deep and loud. I was expecting a snort to escape any second. She was a classy broad, this Sophia. And I was falling hard and fast.

  “This … um … partner you mentioned the other night in my sister’s front yard. He’s not goin’ to come waltzing in here any minute now, is he?”

  The smile on her face slowly slipped away like the night fading into the dawn. There was an air of sadness about it. After a long moment, her nose twitched and she took my coffee cup. “Looks like you could use a refill.” She got up and went back into the kitchen.

  I wasn’t going to let her off that easy. If this thing between us was going to continue, which I hoped it would, I wanted to know the rules going in. I wasn’t fond of being involved in a three-party relationship. Things get real ugly real fast. I followed her into the kitchen.

  She poured two fresh cups, then turned and handed me one. She held her cup up to her lips but didn’t drink. She was searching for words that wouldn’t come.

  “Look,” I said, hoping to help her out a little. “I don’t know what kind of relationship you’re in. At this stage, it’s probably none of my business. But I—”

  “It’s complicated.” She finally took a sip of her coffee.

  I slowly nodded. “Aren’t they all?”

  She smiled softly. “Robbie … wants more than I’m willing to give right now.”

  Robbie. My competition. I could compete with a guy named Robbie.

  I took a long drink of coffee, buying time while I thought of something to say that didn’t make me look like a total asshole. “I’m sorry it’s not working out.”

  Sophia stared at me while a smile slowly crept across her mouth. “No, you’re not.”

  I grinned big and shook my head. “Okay, whatever. I just want to make sure Robbie’s not going to come busting through the door and threaten me within an inch of my life. Or your life.” I sat my coffee on the counter, then gently stroked her hair.

  She sighed. “She’s really not the kind to threaten people.”

  For a fraction of a second, I was certain the world stopped. I knew my heart did.

  I spoke very slow, so I could understand. “Robbie’s a…”

  “Roberta.”

  “Whoa!” I threw my hands in the air. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that. “But … you and me…” I wagged my finger between us. “I didn’t dream it, did I?”

  She sighed heavily. “No. You didn’t dream it.”

  “But you’re a…”

  She stared at me, blank-faced, like an innocent little bird waiting to peck the shit out of something. “I’m a what?”

  I stared back, completely dumbfounded. There were quite a few words thumping around inside my head but I was scared to use any of them. “Okay … forgive me. I’m just a little confused.” I finished off the pot of coffee and hurriedly fixed another. I shoved the pot under the brew spout, then spun around to face her. “Me and you, man and woman. You and Robbie…” I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to ask without sounding like a total jerk. “Lesbians? Bisexuals? Homosexuals? Help me out here.”

  She continued to stare at me, on purpose, knowing I was drowning in confusion. Then she laughed, almost evil-like. “Does our sexual preference matter?”

  “Well … yeah. I mean, no. Not really. Should it?”

  “No.” She stared down into her coffee for a long moment, like it held a secret she wasn’t ready to divulge. Finally, she looked up at me. “I enjoy being with Robbie, like I enjoyed being with you the other night.”

  “Oh God, the other night. Yeah, look—I’m really sorry about all that.”

  She shook her head. “It wasn’t that bad.”

  That bad? Although I was pretty certain it wasn’t meant as an insult, I couldn’t really take it as a compliment, either.

  “That night was not a good night to judge by. I’m a lot better than … that. I’m a … I can rock your world, sweet thing. Really. I can. Let me prove it.” I hooked my thumb toward the bedroom.

  “What? No. I’m not having sex with you right now. I’m still on my first pot of coffee.”

  “Oh, come on. I’ve got to make that night up to you.”

  “You don’t have to do it right now,” she squeaked.

  “I just don’t want you to think … I mean, I don’t want you to … have second thoughts about me, because of one bad experience.”

  She smiled warmly. “Gypsy—relax. It wasn’t that bad. I was actually pretty turned on.” She gnawed on her bottom lip like a shy schoolgirl.

  “So you might want to … again, maybe one day?”

  “Possibly.”

  “I’ll probably be free this afternoon.”

  “Gypsy!”

  I threw my hands up in defeat. “Okay. I’m just going to go get my clothes out of the dryer and ah … I’m supposed to pick Tatum up at ten, so … um … I’ll go do that.” I started down the hallway to retrieve my clothes, then stopped. I turned around and went back into the kitchen. Sophia hadn’t moved. “Robbie—what is it she wants that you’re not ready to give yet?”

  “A commitment.”

  I nodded slowly. “And how long have y’all … been together?”

  “Ten years.”

  I nodded again. “After ten years together, it’s kind of assumed, isn’t it?”

  She shrugged. “You know what they say about assuming something.”

  I grinned. “I’m going to go get dressed now.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Jasper the border collie met me in the McCallens’ driveway, gnawing at the tires between barks. Tatum burst through the front door and was beside the van before I cut off the engine. His eyes were so wide he looked like one of those baby zoo animals that’s all eyes and ears.

  “Did you charge your cameras?” he asked, giving me just enough room to get out without stepping on his toes. It was nice to see the kid excited.

  “My cameras are always charged.” I mussed up his hair. Then made a mental note to take him to get a haircut soon.

  “I packed us a couple sandwiches—you like bologna? I didn’t know if we were going to be out there at lunchtime or not. I’ve got a couple bottles of water, too. I was going to go clean out the cooler. Maybe we could stop and get some ice?”

  I hoped he didn’t talk this damn much at the sinkholes. He followed me through the front door and into the living room, where Burke was parked in his wheelchair near the television.

  “Have I got time to clean out the cooler?” There he went with the wide-eyes thing again.

  He was killing me. I fought back a laugh. “We’ve got time.”

  “Okay. It won’t take me long. Need anything, Grandpa?”

  Burke slowly shook his head
. “Go clean your cooler. I’m good.”

  Tatum disappeared into the kitchen, then the back screen door popped shut. Burke shook his head again. “Kid’s been bouncing off the walls since you called last night. I’m glad you’re spending the day with him.”

  I laughed as I sat down on the end of the sofa closest to Burke. He wasted no time while Tatum was outside and out of earshot. “What’d you have on Denny?”

  I chose my words carefully, not knowing if Burke was aware of the rumor Rodney had told me concerning Ryce. I decided not to put too much emphasis on Denny’s sexual preferences and shrugged. “Same thing that’s brought many a man down.”

  He laughed but there was an air of sadness filtering through it. I didn’t know if it was finally knowing the evil that killed his son, or the loss of a former friend.

  “Your lady friend still shook up?”

  I nodded. “She’ll be shook up for a while.”

  Burke breathed a heavy sigh. “Never an easy thing to witness.”

  He seemed so tired. I suddenly thought of that twelve-year-old out back hosing down a cooler. “You feeling okay?”

  He took a deep breath. “I’m fine. I’m just … wondering. You think they’ll offer Peterson a deal?”

  “I don’t know. Seems more likely they’ll offer McCoy a deal if he corroborates Denny’s evidence. Guess it just depends on the district attorney.”

  He didn’t say anything. He just nodded.

  “What’s going on, Burke? Something’s eating at you and I can’t put my finger on it.”