“What? When?”
“Elon’s not sure. Not more than thirty minutes ago.”
Shea pulled out her phone and dialed Annie’s cellphone.
“Aunt Shea, please don’t be mad,” Annie pleaded.
“Annie! Where are you? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. I’m…I’m with Gramma Julia.”
“Julia?” Shea asked. “Why the hell you with her?”
“Aunt Jessica went away and I got bored at Uncle Terrance’s. So I called Gramma Julia.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “And…and Grampa Monster’s dead. I didn’t even get to say g’bye.” Annie broke into sobs.
Shea wrestled with a mixture of anger, relief, and empathy. “Sorry about Grampa Monster. I know you were close. I’m just glad you’re safe. Is Gramma Julia there with you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Can I speak to her, please?”
There was a rustling as the phone changed hands. “Annie, you go play in your room. Me and Aunt Shea-Shea gotta talk grown-up stuff,” said Julia in a weary, cigarette-burned voice. There was a pause, and then “Morning, Shea.”
“Morning? That’s all you got to say to me?” Shea clenched her jaw so hard her teeth ached. “You fucking kidnapped my niece!”
“Shealene Eleanor Stevens, I did no such thing. And don’t you dare talk like that to me! I am in no mood. Ya hear me?” Julia said. “I am torn up making arrangements to bury my old man. I won’t put up with your smart mouth.”
“I’m sorry about Monster. But you had no right to take Annie without permission.”
“First of all, Annie called me begging to be picked up after you pawned her off on that colored fella.”
Shea’s grip on her temper began to slip. “I didn’t pawn her off on nobody. Terrance and Elon are family.”
“And Annie is my family. I’ve known her her whole life. After Wendy died, we ain’t hardly seen her at all.”
Shea didn’t know what to say to that. “I know,” was all that came to mind.
“If you needed someone to watch her, darlin’, you shoulda called me.”
“You?” Shea scoffed. “Maybe if you weren’t involved with the Confederate Thunder I’d consider it. But they’re why I sent Annie to stay with Terrance in the first place. They’ve shot at me. They’ve run members of the Athena Sisterhood off the road. And you want me to trust Annie around these people?”
“Don’t you get so high and mighty with me, young lady. Several of my friends are dead because the Sisterhood firebombed Bootlegger Bob’s.”
“The Sisterhood had nothing to do with Bootlegger Bob’s.”
“Well, the cops seem to think differently.”
“The cops!” Shea scoffed. “The cops are in the Thunder’s pocket. Monster said as much.”
“When did he tell you that?”
“Doesn’t matter.” A chill ran down Shea’s spine warning her to watch what she said.
“I heard someone was seen driving away from our house right after Monster allegedly shot himself. Maybe that was you. And maybe it wasn’t Monster who pulled the trigger.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! Why would I shoot Monster?”
“Same reason you were threatening to out him with that photo you sent. Trying to get the Thunder to back off.”
Shea was stunned. “You knew?”
“Course I knew. I’m his old lady. He tried to hide it, but I ain’t stupid. He just didn’t know I knew.”
“I didn’t kill him, Julia. Why would I? He was dying of cancer. What’d be the point?”
There was a moment of awkward silence. “Bottom line, Julia, Annie’s my responsibility.”
“And you can have her back when you show you can be responsible for her.”
Shea wanted to argue, but with Lizzie Black still on the loose, maybe she was safer with Julia. For the moment, at least. “Fine. Keep her for now. But don’t let any members of the club or their associates near her.”
After a pause, Julia said, “I can do that.”
“Tell me something. If you knew he was gay, why the hell’d you stay with him?”
“Why shouldn’t I? He was a good provider, a loving godfather for your sister, and a decent friend to me. What more can a girl want?”
“I can think of a few things. The rest of the club know?”
Julia laughed darkly. “What do you think? They woulda killed him. I’m the keeper of secrets in this family. Monster’s secrets. Club secrets. Your mother’s secrets. Even your sister’s secrets.”
“My sister’s secrets? What secrets?”
“I swore to keep them to my grave.”
“This got anything to do with Annie?”
“Annie’s father, if you must know. But since he’s outta the picture and Wendy’s dead, none of it matters anyhow.”
“If it don’t matter, then just tell me.”
“I gave my word and I aim to keep it.”
“Do what you want. Just keep Annie safe for now. I have business to attend to. And when I’m done, Annie comes back home with me.”
Shea hung up and took a deep breath.
“Everything all right?” asked Terrance.
“Yeah. Annie’s safe.” Shea stood up. “I’ll forward the video to Detective Rios and let her know that Chlöe Stansbury is the one dealing the hex. Meanwhile, I’m on the hunt for Lizzie Black.”
Terrance stood, locked eyes with her, and put his hands gingerly on her shoulder. “Watch your back, sister girl.”
Chapter 50
Shea pulled into the parking lot of the Lambda Resource Center, armed with both the Glock and the Smith & Wesson. The edge of her Kevlar vest rubbed against the bandage over her wound, but it beat leaving herself vulnerable.
She scanned the area for Lizzie Black. Being as tall as she was, she’d be hard to miss. But as the meeting start time approached, Shea wondered if Lizzie was already inside.
Shea hung her helmet from her right handlebar and followed the scattering of people inside to a meeting room with two dozen chairs set in a circle. Shea took a seat opposite the door so she could spot Lizzie the moment she walked in.
A woman with messy hair and a bony face plopped down next to her. The Optimus Rehab sweatshirt she wore hung loose on her frame. She alternated pulling at her hair and scratching the inside of her elbow. “How’s it going?”
“Okay.” Shea felt like an intruder. She wasn’t a junkie. “You?”
“Grateful for another day clean. This your first time at this meeting?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Welcome. I’m Sabina.”
“Shea.” She glanced at Sabina, then back at the door.
“You keep staring at the door. Don’t worry. We don’t bite.”
“I’m just checking things out.” Shea didn’t know what else to say.
“Yeah, I hear ya. I wasn’t sure either. They say to give yourself six meetings before you decide.”
“Good to know.”
“It was all I could do not to bolt outta here my first few times. Only I couldn’t ’cause I had to get my sheet signed, which they wouldn’t do ’less I stayed the whole meeting. Didn’t want to go back to prison, so I white-knuckled through it.”
“Just got a lot on my mind.”
“What’s your drug of choice?”
A ripple of panic ran up Shea’s spine. “Uh, well…”
“Let me guess—crystal, no wait, prescription painkillers. Am I right?” Sabina sniffed in Shea’s direction. “And alcohol, too, I reckon.”
“Something like that.”
“Heroin’s my ride—that and married men.” She smirked in a self-deprecating sort of way. “Been clean just over a month now. Some days are a real bitch.”
“Okay, we’re gonna get started,” said a man in an Arizona Cardinals hoodie and a bushy, retro-style hipster beard. “My name is Morgan and I’m an oxy and heroin addict.”
“Hi, Morgan,” said the rest of the people sitting in the circle.
What am I doing here? She ain’t gonna show.
Morgan asked a member of the group to read the twelve steps from a handout. Something about turning things over to God, which Shea didn’t believe in. The bit about restoring sanity sounded nice. Someone else read the group’s traditions. Bunch of bureaucratic nonsense, Shea thought.
Shea started to get up and Sabina pushed her back down in the chair.
“You’ll thank me later,” the woman whispered.
Shea gritted her teeth as the meeting’s main speaker prattled on about his addiction. “Didn’t matter what happened, I’d come up with a reason to use. Got a new job? Smoke a little meth to celebrate. Lost that job? Smoke some to feel better. Crash the car? Smoke. Get kicked out of my girlfriend’s apartment? At least I got my crank.”
Memories of all the times Jessica and Terrance had complained about Shea’s drinking started popping up in her head. And now Jess was gone. But it’s not because of my drinking, she told herself.
“…I realized I could always come up with an excuse to use, no matter what was going on…,” droned the speaker. “Wasn’t until I had no home…”
She pushed Sabina’s hand aside and headed for the door. Lizzie Black wasn’t coming. It was stupid to think she would after what happened. She and Bonefish were either holed up somewhere or on the run.
Shea hopped onto her bike and raced south to Sycamore Springs. As the stretches of snow-dusted landscape flew past, Shea’s thoughts strayed to her night with Debbie. Even her guilt wasn’t enough to drive out the memory of Deb’s soft lips, her intoxicating scent, her nimble, skilled fingers. Shea’s body grew painfully aroused, aching to be touched, caressed, filled all over again.
The air horn from an approaching semi caught her drifting into the oncoming lane. Her heart lurched as she swerved back to her side of the road. Waves of shame reminded her why she had left Debbie—the jealousy, the mind games, the gaslighting. She didn’t need all that shit. Debbie or Labrys or whatever the hell she wanted to call herself hadn’t changed. She was still the same manipulative control freak she had always been.
Should I quit the Sisterhood? As far as Shea was concerned, she’d fulfilled her obligation to Rios. She’d pointed the detective to the source of the drugs. She had no intention of turning over Orphan. Let the club deal with her as they see fit. I’ve got my own life to lead. One that doesn’t involve Debbie.
But the thought of leaving the Athena Sisterhood felt like giving up on something. Something good. Despite being pressured by Rios to join, Shea had fallen in love with these women.
They were there for her when she needed them. If they hadn’t shown up, she would have died in the Iron Goddess parking lot. Could she put up with Labrys as a sponsor for a year? It seemed so daunting. Maybe she could talk to Savage about changing sponsors. She wasn’t sure if that was possible, but it might be worth a shot.
Shea breezed through Olde Towne Sycamore Springs without so much as a glance at Iron Goddess. She just wanted to get home. The back of her bike slipped sideways a few times on the ice hiding in the tight curves going down Sycamore Mountain. She slowed until she reached the straightaway that led to her neighborhood.
Her heart leapt when she saw Jessica’s car parked in their driveway. Is she back?
She skidded to a stop in the driveway and rushed to the front door. It was ajar. What the hell?
“Jess? You home?”
A muffled cry from their bedroom sent Shea running.
Chapter 51
Detective Rios, FBI Special Agent Obregón, and DEA Agent Cho walked into the main lobby of Optimus Rehabilitative Services, accompanied by three CCSO deputies.
Rios flashed her shield to the receptionist. “Detective Rios. I need to speak to Chlöe Stansbury. Is she here?”
“Yes, is she expecting you?” The woman’s expression was a mixture of formal politeness masking a tremor of uncertainty.
“We need to speak to her immediately.”
“I’m sorry, but Ms. Stansbury is unavailable at the moment. If you’d like, I can make an appointment for you to come back at a later time.”
Rios sighed. Enough of this nonsense. She glanced at the woman’s nameplate. “Look, Belinda, Agents Obregón, Cho, and I are investigating a series of murders. You wouldn’t want to be charged with obstruction, would you? Comes with a rather stiff prison sentence.”
Belinda’s lower lip trembled. “Um, let me see what I can do.” Belinda dialed the phone. “Hi, David, I…uh, have some, uh, police officers here. Th-they’re looking for Ms. Stansbury. Yes, I know she gave very specific orders not to be disturbed. B-but they are threatening to arrest me if-if I don’t let them see her. Y-yes, thank you.”
Belinda hung up and took a deep breath before re-presenting her practiced smile. “Someone will be right up to speak to you.” Her voice quavered as she spoke, eyeing Rios’ gun.
A moment later, a man in a tailored black suit with emerald-green eyes, coppery hair, and a game-show-host smile strolled into the reception area. “Hello, I’m David Callahan, the center’s chief information officer,” he said, offering his hand to each of them. “How can I help you all today?”
“Detective Rios,” she said shaking his hand. “Where’s Chlöe Stansbury?”
“Ms. Stansbury isn’t here at the moment, I’m afraid. Is there something that I can help you with?”
“Your receptionist said she was here,” said Agent Cho, crossing her arms.
He shot her a dirty look. “I’m afraid Belinda was mistaken.”
“How can we reach her?” asked Agent Obregón. “She have a cell number?”
“I’m sorry, I’m not authorized to give that information out. What is this in regard to?”
“We’re investigating a series of murders,” growled Rios, producing a folded piece of paper. “I have a warrant for her arrest.”
He crossed his arms, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, but I have strict—”
Rios whirled him around, cuffed him, and pushed him against the receptionist’s desk. She leaned down next to his reddened face, pushing up his arms until he yelped in pain.
“I know about your boss’ little drug operation, Mr. Callahan, and the people who’ve been killed because of it. So either produce Ms. Stansbury, or I will have my associates here haul you off to jail. Are we clear?”
“All right, she’s here! I’ll take you to her office.”
“Lead the way.” Rios pointed to Belinda. “And don’t you dare tip her off.”
Callahan nodded to Belinda, who unlocked the door. Rios and the others followed him down a long carpeted hallway adorned with framed photographs of the company’s board.
They stopped at an office with Stansbury’s nameplate beside the door. Rios knocked. Someone inside was talking very heatedly about something, though the words were indistinguishable.
Rios tried the knob but it was locked. She pounded on the door. “Ms. Stansbury, open the door! Cortes County Sheriff’s Office! We have a warrant.”
A gunshot followed by the sound of shattering glass sent a shockwave through those gathered outside the door. Rios drew her sidearm and turned to Obregón. “Go around. Make sure she doesn’t get out through the window.”
—
Shea rushed into the bedroom and found the floor lamp had been knocked over. The mirror over Jessica’s dresser was shattered. Knickknacks had been scattered across the floor. Jessica lay curled in a ball on the floor. Blood soaked into the carpet around her.
“Jess!” Shea rolled her onto her back.
Jessica cried out in pain. Her belly was slick and dark with blood.
“Oh shit, shit, shit!” Shea pulled up Jessica’s shirt, wiped away the blood, and found two gunshot wounds in her abdomen. She grabbed a folded bed sheet from their linen closet and pressed it against the wounds.
Jessica screamed.
“Sorry, baby!” She held the sheet against the wounds while clumsily calling 911 and informing them of the situation.
&
nbsp; Jessica mumbled something amid her cries of pain. Shea set the phone down and leaned closer to her. “What’d you say, baby? I didn’t hear you.”
“Shhh…she…she shot…me.”
Hot tears blurred Shea’s vision. Fucking Lizzie Black! “Forget that bitch. Just hold on, okay? Help’s on the way.”
“Hurts.” Jessica winced and began gasping for breath.
Shea wanted so badly to hold Jessica’s face in her hands, to comfort her with a shower of kisses, but she had to keep pressure on the wounds. “Oh, Jess, I love you. I’ve missed you so much.”
“I…I luh…” Jessica’s eyelids drooped.
“No, no, no, no! Don’t close your eyes. Stay with me.” In the distance an ambulance siren wailed, growing louder as it approached. A second one with a faster rhythm joined the first.
“Hear that? They’re coming.”
A trickle of blood dripped from underneath the bandage, followed by another. Shea pressed harder, fearing Jessica would cry out. Hoping she would. But Jess made no sound. “Oh God, baby, please hold on!”
Moments later, a familiar voice called, “Hello? Cortes County Emergency.”
“In here!” yelled Shea.
Savage and two other EMTs rushed over with their medical kits and a gurney. “Shea? What happened?”
“Jess. She…she…someone shot her.”
Savage kneeled next to her and peeled back the bedsheet. “Okay, stand back. We’ll take care of her, okay?”
Shea forced herself up on shaky knees as Savage and her coworkers replaced the sheet with a large pad, set up an IV, and put an oxygen mask on Jessica. The whole situation felt surreal. This shouldn’t be happening. Why’d you come back here, Jess? I told you it wasn’t safe.
“Ma’am?”
Shea looked up to see two uniformed deputies, one a middle-aged white man with a mustache, the other a clean-cut Latino in his thirties. More fucking cops. They should be out looking for Lizzie. She glared at them. “What the fuck you want?”
“Ma’am, I’m Deputy Graham,” said the older white cop. “This is Deputy Cruz. Do you live here?”
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