Divorced, Desperate and Dead

by Christie Craig

Realizing where this was leading, and not sure she was ready, she pulled back and put her fingers on top of his lips. “I’m sorry. I. . .” She inhaled, trying to find a way to say what needed to be said when she wasn’t even sure what that was.

  He glanced down at her. “I should go, huh?”

  She swallowed, and fought back the need to tell him he could stay. “I . . .”

  He took a small step back. Taking the warmth and thrill of his nearness away. “It’s okay.”

  No it isn’t. But she didn’t say anything.

  “I get it. Too soon. It’s okay.” He ran a finger over her lips, still wet with his kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning. You’ve got my number. Call me if . . . you need anything.”

  He got to the door, had it open, with one foot out, and . . . God help her, she didn’t know what inspired her to do it, but the words just slipped out.

  “So, you’re not afraid of me anymore?”

  He stopped. His back was to her so she couldn’t see his face. But she noted the tightening in his shoulders.

  For a second, she thought he would just leave. Pretend as if she hadn’t said anything.

  But he brought his foot back inside. For a long second he kept his hand on the doorknob—as if deciding to run or not.

  He exhaled. She heard it and it sounded as if he’d resigned himself to something. But was it to get the hell out or to stay?

  With his back still facing her, he shut the door. The sound rang too loud in the night’s silence. And in that stillness of those long seconds, she found herself terrified that he would deny remembering any of it.

  Then slowly, he turned to face her.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  So you’re not afraid of me anymore?

  Chloe’s question bounced around Cary’s head. The answer shot back.

  Hell, yes. Even more so now.

  He looked at her and he felt like a coward for not being the one to say something first, but how did one go about asking if she remembered meeting him in the afterlife?

  Cary knew they couldn’t keep talking around it. But damn it, talking about it felt crazy. He met her blue eyes.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Maybe I wasn’t supposed to point out the big pink elephant in the room.”

  “It’s a crazy elephant.” He ran a hand over his face.

  “I know.”

  He reached back and rubbed his neck. “I thought it was just a . . . dream.”

  “Me, too. Then Dan and your other friend showed up at my door. So I convinced myself that I must have heard something about you being shot. But I had to see for myself. That’s why I went to the hospital.”

  “I told myself I must have heard about your accident on the news—that you weren’t blue-eyed and beautiful. Then you walked into my hospital room, knocked me on my ass, and busted my balls.”

  She smiled. “I had you down as a retiring cop with a pot belly.”

  He studied her. Damn if her smile didn’t just reach down inside his gut. It hit him again, that feeling, as if he wanted to pull her in his arms and hold her, protect her. Not just from the Black Bloods, but from life. The pain of losing her father, the insecurities of having someone she loved kill himself. He wanted to convince her how good she was at writing and make her sit down and pound out the next book and the next.

  He put a hand on his stomach. “Sorry to disappoint.”

  She went and sat on the sofa, and somehow sensing the invitation, he joined her.

  “Were you already a believer?” she asked.

  “In Room Six?” he asked.

  “No, I mean, not just Room Six, but the afterlife?”

  “Yeah. But it still threw me for a loop.”

  “Me, too.”

  “And when she keeps popping up, I mean, it really makes you question your sanity.”

  “Who keeps popping up?” she asked.

  Okay, now he was feeling even crazier. “Beatrice Bacon. I keep seeing little ol’ ladies who look like her.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, but I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  “Probably.” She bit down on her lip. “This might sound bad, but I don’t really want to share this with a lot of people.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, hell no. They’d think we were bat-shit crazy.” And he might be, since she hadn’t been seeing any elderly angels.

  She nodded and looked right at him. And right then, he didn’t care if he was crazy. Damn she was beautiful. He wanted to kiss her again, but she’d made it clear she wasn’t ready for that. Was he?

  “I’m not looking for promises,” she said. “I sort of gave up on that with Jerry.”

  He glanced at her and everything inside of him said she deserved promises. She deserved better than Jerry. She deserved better than what he was offering.

  “What are you asking for?”

  • • •

  J.D. parked in the back of a restaurant two blocks up from where he needed to be. He didn’t want to chance anyone seeing and recognizing his truck. Picking up his phone, he looked at the time. Taking a deep breath, he considered calling to check on Carlos, but Moses had said he’d call when he had news.

  God, he hoped the news was good. Closing his eyes, he remembered the water stain that looked like an angel’s face. If she was looking after anyone right now, he hoped it was Carlos.

  He didn’t think he could live knowing Carlos had died because of him. Looking out into the dark night, he realized he might not have to live with it. His plan wasn’t a sure bet. In truth, this was a shot in the dark. He didn’t even know who was working this corner.

  He reached down under the passenger seat for his gun.

  It felt heavy in his hand. Sticking it in the waist of his jeans, he tucked his white hair under the rim of a hat and tugged it low over his face, then got out.

  Moving into the alley, he kept his head low. He heard people talking and he slowed his steps to make sure it wasn’t some of the gang. Sometimes they had members do lookout. If they did, he was screwed.

  He spotted a couple of homeless guys leaning against another closed down establishment. Nothing seemed to make it on this side of town. Nothing but girls selling their bodies and gang members selling drugs. And half the time, it was the girls buying the drugs. Or swapping sex for a hit. A lot of the gang members did that.

  J.D. had never done it. Carlos had tried to talk him into it one night, but he’d backed out at the last minute. Not that he hadn’t done ‘it’ as in sex before. He had. Twice. But he didn’t really like any of the girls. They always teased him about being albino. Except that one girl, Tracie. She was nice. He felt sorry for her. He could tell she didn’t like selling her body.

  A few cars passed at the end of the street, spraying light onto the dark streets. Probably a couple of people looking to score—sex or drugs.

  He moved closer to the building, hoping not to be spotted. Hoping to be able to see which of the gang members worked this corner.

  Let it be Pablo, he thought, and imagined the angel on his ceiling. Please let it be Pablo.

  • • •

  “What are you asking for?” he repeated the question.

  Chloe had to stop and think.

  “To know that I’m not . . . just another notch on your belt.”

  He reached over and took her hand in his. “You would never be that.”

  “To feel a little less lonely.” The words fell off her tongue. Tonight, she hadn’t felt lonely. Tonight, she’d been too busy feeling . . . alive. Even when someone was trying to kill her.

  “No one likes to feel lonely.” He squeezed her hand.

  “What are you asking for?” she asked.

  He seemed surprised at her question. “I don’t know. Tonight has been . . . great.”

  “I didn’t like getting shot at,” she said.

  “No, that part wasn’t good. But this . . . us talking, laughing, it’s been nice.”

  “It has, hasn’t it?” He leaned in to kiss her again, but
stopped right before his lips brushed hers. “I should . . . go.” He let go of her hand.

  Don’t go.

  Two words. That’s all she had to say and she felt almost certain he would stay.

  He stood up. She stood up.

  “Oh, you were supposed to text your friend that you got here okay.”

  She forced a smile. “Thanks. I’ll do that.”

  He reached up and brushed a finger down her cheek and across her lips. “If you can’t sleep, call me, we can talk.”

  “About what?” she asked.

  “I don’t care,” he said and he leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the side of her mouth.

  Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go. Just say it. Say it! She nodded and watched him walk away.

  • • •

  J.D. stood across the street, hidden behind a garbage dumpster. Pablo was there, with another guy . . . a new guy, John something. J.D. knew sooner or later, Pablo would send John home, just the way he’d sent J.D. and Carlos home. And Pablo would head out somewhere quiet to do what he always did. He’d take the little bag of drugs he’d pinched from all of his sales and find someplace to get high from his stolen stash.

  J.D. and Carlos had both figured out what the guy was doing. While he wasn’t stealing from Jax, he was stealing from his customers. And the gang leader depended on his customers coming back.

  Neither J.D. nor Carlos had said anything because they knew Jax wouldn’t take it kindly. They hadn’t disliked Pablo enough to bring the gang leader down on his ass. But both of them hadn’t wanted to be partnered up with him, in case some smart customer called them out and the blame came back to them.

  But now, Pablo had something J.D. wanted. So he sat in wait for John to be sent away, and when Pablo was least expecting it, J.D. would move in.

  The feel of the gun against his waist made him sweat. He’d have to use it, or Pablo would use his. He just hoped threatening Pablo with it was enough, because if he had to pull that trigger, it was just going to be another thing weighing on his conscience.

  • • •

  Cary walked into Glencoe hospital. The smell carried him back to the memories of his mother. Oddly, even after spending five days here himself, it was still his mother’s memory the astringent smell brought on.

  That thought took him back to hearing Chloe talk about her dad. To the pain he’d heard in her voice.

  He’d sat in Chloe’s mother’s driveway for about three minutes, arguing with himself about leaving. What he wanted to do was to walk back inside, pull her against him, remove that red dress, discover the red underwear, remove that, and slowly, carefully, love her until she called out his name.

  He wanted to drive all thoughts of that Jerry out of her mind. The guy didn’t deserve to be there. He wanted to see her smile, to see her happy, he wanted to erase all of the unhappy moments in her life.

  Yeah, that’s what he wanted, but here he was in the hospital. Because if he’d learned anything in his life, it was that wanting something and getting it were two different things.

  He hoped to find out if Carlos Santos’ beating had anything to do with J.D. Andrews and the drive-by shooting that could have sent both him and Chloe back to Room Six.

  Not a soul except him stood in the lobby of the hospital. He passed a large mirror and his refection had him remembering he wasn’t actually dressed to ask any family members questions.

  Slowing down, he noted the small blood stain on his gray sweats. He rubbed the side of his leg. Other than a slight throb every now and then, amazingly it almost didn’t hurt anymore. While he’d been at Chloe’s bakery, he’d scrambled through her First-Aid kit and found a large Band-Aid.

  He glanced back at the mirror. Logic said he should go home, prop his leg up, and sleep for eight hours. He considered it for about two seconds. Forget that. He wasn’t going to sleep, not with Chloe on his mind, her taste still on his lips. And her question playing in his mind.

  What are you looking for?

  Footsteps sounded in the distance.

  “Hey, Cary?” Someone called out his name as he walked up to the elevator to head to the surgical waiting room. Turning, he saw Jason Dodd, moving toward him. He felt his gut tighten with what that probably meant. The kid who’d been beat up had died, and it was now a homicide case. One he might even be working when he got back to work. And damn it, he hated working on dead kid cases.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  “Hey,” Cary said as Jason stopped just when the elevator door opened.

  “What are you doing here?” Jason asked.

  “The kid didn’t make it?” Cary asked his own question instead of answering.

  “He was alive the last I heard,” Jason said. “But since it was iffy, the sergeant wanted someone to go ahead and talk to the family. That, and the connection to the earlier shooting. Can I assume that’s what you’re doing here?”

  “You can assume,” Cary said. “Just don’t mention you saw me to the sergeant.”

  They walked into the elevator. “Oh, guess what?” Jason said. “When I went home, I was telling Sue about you and Chloe Sanders. She’s knows her. They’ve met a couple of times at writing events. She said we should have you two over for dinner soon. Are you guys up for something next week?”

  Cary watched the elevator door close then ran a palm over his face. It wasn’t so much the invitation of dinner that bothered him, it was the fact that he liked the idea. Liked the idea of him and Chloe doing something like a couple. Having dinner with friends.

  “Look, Chloe and I aren’t . . . we’re . . . it’s just. . .”

  “You’re still fighting it, huh?” Jason chuckled. “Hey, fight if you can. But if it’s the real thing, accept it.”

  “Yeah,” he said, wondering why the hell these guys thought they had the right to pass out advice.

  The door opened and they stepped out. The waiting room was right around the corner. About six people looked up—desperation and sleep deprivation in their expressions. They were all sitting, waiting for a doctor to come out with news of loved ones. Five of the people appeared to be with the same family. Both he and Jason looked at the Hispanic guy waiting by himself, texting something on his phone.

  “Are you with the Santos family?” Cary asked.

  The guy stood up. “Yeah. I’m Moses Santos. Carlos is my brother.”

  “We’re with the Glencoe police.” Jason pulled back his shirt to show his badge. “I’m Jason Dodd and this is Cary Stevens. We’re looking into the case. Have you heard any news on your brother’s condition?”

  “The nurse came out about thirty minutes ago and said the surgery was going well.” He closed his eyes a minute. “Did you catch the guys who did this?”

  “Not yet. Do you know who did this to your brother?”

  “I don’t know anything.”

  Cary could tell from the guy’s expression he knew something. He could also tell he was hesitant to share. “Look, we know your brother was in the gang.”

  “Yeah, he was in the gang,” Moses snapped. “Half the kids we grew up with are in the gangs. It doesn’t mean he deserved this.”

  “We know that,” Cary said.

  Jason jumped in. “Look, we want to help. We want to get who did this to him.”

  Moses looked down and shuffled his feet as if debating answering. “The word is, that his own gang did it. I don’t know why, though.”

  “Do you know if your brother is friends with a J.D. Andrews? He’s got real white skin. An albino. Also a gang member.”

  He saw the guy’s eyes widen with recognition. “Yeah, they know each other.”

  “Just know each other, or are they friends?” Cary asked.

  “I don’t know, man,” Moses said and glanced away.

  He was lying, Cary could read it in his body language.

  “Have you heard from or seen J.D.?” Cary asked.

  “No,” he said, with the same lack of conviction.

  Frustration pulled a
t Cary’s patience. “Look, if you want those responsible for hurting your brother caught, you have to be honest with us.”

  “I told you what I know,” he said.

  Right then, a doctor and nurse walked out. “Santos family?”

  “Right here,” Moses said.

  The doctor shook Moses’ hand and looked at Cary and Jason as if he knew they were cops.

  “The surgery went as well as can be expected,” the doctor said. “We stopped the internal bleeding. Your brother is holding his own, but we’re not sure of the extent of his head injuries. Time is going to tell. When he leaves recovery, we’ll be taking him to ICU. If you want to follow the nurse, she’ll show you where that is.”

  Moses offered his thanks, then followed the nurse out the door. Cary walked after him, pulling a card out of his wallet as he went.

  “Hey,” he said.

  Moses stopped and looked back. Cary handed the guy a card. “When you decide to be honest with us, call me.”

  The guy didn’t say anything, but he took the card.

  Cary shot back inside.

  The doctor and Jason were talking. “Like I said, I don’t know if he’s going to make it or not. But whoever did this wasn’t just trying to teach him a lesson, they were trying to kill him. And it’s a damn miracle that they didn’t succeed. Anyone who could do this to another human being needs to be caught and taught a few lessons themselves.”

  “What did they use? Just their fists?” Jason asked.

  “Their fists, sticks, a tire iron. Hell, that kid had so many different types of bruises and injuries, I lost count. Find the animals who did this, will you? Find them before they do it to someone else.”

  “That’s the plan,” Jason said.

  Cary got a sick feeling as the doctor’s description filled his head with images. Even sicker, when he realized those were the guys looking for Chloe.

  • • •