Deeper

by Ronica Black

  Liz clenched her jaw, no longer unaffected. Now she was annoyed. “Do me a favor.”

  “Anything.”

  “Get your shit and leave.”

  The woman’s hand fell to her side and her mouth opened in surprise.

  Liz eyed her coldly. “Do I need to say it again?”

  The woman glared at her as she retrieved her clothes and got dressed. “What a major fucking disappointment.” She gave a wicked smile. “Everyone is right, you know. The old Elizabeth Adams is gone.”

  Liz stood. “Get the fuck out of here.”

  The woman laughed as she headed for the door. Liz slammed it shut behind her. Returning to the couch, she collapsed once again, her head falling into her hands. She caught sight of her satellite phone and her stomach turned. It had been too long. It should’ve rung days ago.

  She shoved it aside and focused on the short stack of bills. Something wasn’t quite right with the books and the businesses. Two of her accounts seemed to be missing money. She didn’t need the stress of a paperwork nightmare. That’s what she employed Reggie to handle. Her hands froze as she came across a handwritten envelope addressed to her. With her gut churning, she tore it open and read.

  She stood, read it again, and shoved it into her pocket. Grabbing her keys, she left the lair and hurried down the VIP staircase. Tyson spoke to her but she ignored him, brushing by him and countless others.

  She had only one thing on her mind, and nothing was going to stop her.

  She didn’t have much time and the letters were getting stranger and stranger. This one was by far the most serious of all.

  *

  Erin crept through the house, finding her way by the dim light of the tiny accent lamps Patricia kept on. It was after three a.m. and Patricia had been asleep for a couple of hours. Just to be sure, Erin peeked in on her. Next to the sleeping detective, Jack opened his eyes and lifted his head. Erin brought a finger up to her mouth, hoping he knew the sign for “Quiet.”

  He seemed to understand, jumping down from the bed without a sound. She bent to scratch his back and he followed her into the office, watching as she grabbed binder after binder from Patricia’s desk.

  Erin felt guilty, doubly so as the little dog stared. “I’m just going to borrow them.” Although Jack couldn’t hear her, she felt better offering an explanation. “I have no choice. She won’t let me see them. And lives are at stake.”

  Jack’s claws clicked on the hard floor as he followed to the front door. He sniffed the cool night air as she stepped out.

  Telling him, “I’ll be back,” Erin locked the door and headed for her Toyota SUV.

  The local Kinko’s was bright and open twenty-four hours. She brought her bounty inside and set to work right away, politely declining when the young employee offered to do all the copying for her. She could trust no one with these documents and she couldn’t risk the young man catching a glimpse of the gruesome victim photos.

  As she copied page after page, various details caught her eye: There was no hit yet on the satellite phone number. Jay was still a prime suspect. The police had obtained more information from Arcane, Alabama, on both Liz and Jay. Liz had recently been arrested on assault charges. There was a crucifix drawn on Joe Gillette’s body, and on Antwon’s.

  The whole way home Erin drummed her fingers nervously on the steering wheel, praying that Patricia would still be asleep. The house was dark and quiet as she stepped inside. Jack happily sniffed her feet as she crept inside and they both headed down the hallway. She dropped the large stacks of paper onto her bedside table, then hurried to the office and replaced the binders just as she’d found them. She was almost back to her room when she heard Patricia’s voice.

  “Mac, are you all right?” Patricia stood in the doorway in light cotton pajamas, hair askew.

  Stiffening, Erin said, “Yes, I’m fine. Just thirsty is all.”

  Patricia didn’t seem to notice her shoes or her blue jeans. Instead she yawned and cleared her throat. “Okay.” Jack trotted up to her and she bent to lift him in her arms. “We should probably talk soon. About things.”

  Erin stood very still. “I agree. How about tomorrow?” Her heart thudded like mad.

  Patricia nodded. “Good night, then.”

  Erin produced a smile. She hoped it looked normal. “Sleep well.”

  She stripped off her clothes as soon as she closed the door. For the next two hours, she pored over the case files she’d waited so long to read.

  *

  The ringing phone seemed to bang against her skull. Patricia reached for the receiver.

  It was Gary Jacobs, and he sounded worked up. “Get up and get down here.”

  “What’s going on?” She kicked the covers off and walked into the bathroom.

  “We got the hair and fiber analysis back on De Maro.”

  “Yeah?” She covered the phone as she sat to pee.

  “Are you ready for this?”

  Her heart rate kicked up. “Lay it on me.”

  “We’ve got DNA. From his underwear. A small bloodstain that isn’t his own.”

  She grinned so hard it hurt. “I couldn’t have woken to better news. Don’t tell me there’s more, I might have to pinch myself.”

  “Pinch away. The sample wasn’t great but it was enough to get mitochondrial.” He paused to catch his breath. “Guess who it matches?”

  She sat in silence, her heart now thudding in her ears.

  “Elizabeth Adams.”

  Patricia stood, pajamas around her ankles. She flushed. “No fucking way.”

  “Yes way.” He laughed, overcome with joy, something Gary rarely seemed to feel. “We’ve got her. We’ve really got her this time.”

  Patricia stepped out of her pants and hurried over to her closet. “Where is she?”

  “We sent a few squad cars over to her place about five minutes ago.”

  “I’ll meet you at the station.” Patricia hung up in near disbelief. She tossed a shirt and chinos on the bed and found underwear. She was still fastening her belt as she rushed out into the hallway and ran head-on into Erin.

  “Leaving already?”

  “Yeah.”

  Erin studied her. “Something big going down?”

  She had a way with her eyes, an ability to somehow see right through her. And Patricia couldn’t risk that scrutiny at the moment.

  “You could say that,” she answered cagily. She knew she couldn’t tell her. Even if she could, she wouldn’t want to. It would devastate her. “I’ve got to go.”

  “We’ll have that talk later, then?” Erin called out after her.

  Patricia looked over her shoulder. “Yep. Later. Promise.”

  She grabbed her keys and headed out into the garage. As she started her Blazer, she knew in her gut that all of their lives were about to change forever.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Where the hell is she?” Sergeant Ruiz screamed.

  Patricia held the phone away from her ear. “We’re not sure.” She and Gary were standing inside Erotique Studios. A dozen or so employees milled around, eavesdropping and whispering among themselves.

  “We’ve checked her house and the nightclub,” she reported, “and the staff here say she didn’t come into work today.”

  “God damn it, good God damn it! Find her!”

  Patricia hung up and Gary shook his head as if apologizing to her. No one liked to be on the end of Ruiz’s very short fuse.

  “Even if we do find her…” he started.

  “Doesn’t mean it’s her,” she finished. Mitochondrial DNA came from the mother. So the sample could be from Liz, or it could be from Jay.

  At the moment Ruiz and the department were betting on Liz. If they found Liz, they’d most likely find their answers. No one could dispute DNA, and Liz had left an ample amount of blood on Patricia’s carpet the year before. Plenty for comparison.

  Patricia wished she could remember more about that night. What really had happened? Had
Liz really come to save her and Erin? Could Liz really kill someone? Her mind clouded over with dark, confusing thoughts. How could Erin love a killer? Was it possible? Even if Liz had everyone else fooled, would Erin really be able to fall in love with someone like her? Patricia didn’t think so. If there was one thing she knew, it was that Erin McKenzie was a good person with a good heart and good instincts. Patricia desperately wanted to trust those instincts.

  “Is there anything we can help you with?” a nice-looking man approached and asked her quietly.

  Patricia had been introduced to them all an hour before when they’d first arrived. “Reggie, right?” At his nod, she asked, “Who worked the closest with her?”

  Reggie seemed to think for a moment. “Next to Ms. McKenzie, me, I suppose.”

  “How’s she been acting lately?”

  He blew out a hiss of air. “Distant. Bothered. Sad.” He met her eyes. “We’ve been worried about her for a long while now. Since Ms. McKenzie left.”

  “Have you seen anything out of the norm?”

  He shook his head but then stopped, his eyes returning to hold hers for a few seconds. “You know there was that one night.”

  “Go on.”

  “I was here working late and I heard something. Ms. Adams and I nearly ran into one another. The halls were dark. She had someone with her, and the woman looked so much like her, I thought I was seeing things.”

  “Did she say who it was?” Patricia swallowed against a dry throat, her pulse doubling.

  “No. She just got pissed and said I should turn the lights on if I was going to stay late. They left in a hurry.”

  “Why did this seem so strange to you?” Gary interrupted.

  “Ms. Adams is never here that late. It was past eleven.”

  Gary gave Patricia a telling glance. The other woman was Jay. It had to be. “Would you excuse us for a moment?” He drew her aside, out of earshot. “Have you asked Erin where Adams is?”

  “I left her at the house. She doesn’t know where she is.” Patricia grimaced. She was positive Erin wasn’t even speaking to Adams. Still, what if she knew about a hideaway? Damn it, why hadn’t she thought to ask? Was she losing her mind?

  Gary’s face hardened. “You’re letting your relationship with her get in the way.”

  “Oh, I am not.” She looked away, angry.

  A younger, somewhat effeminate man caught her eye and immediately approached. “How much longer are you all going to be hanging around? You’re kind of scaring everyone.”

  Patricia snapped at him. “We’re here trying to apprehend a possible killer. I’m sorry if that’s an inconvenience.”

  His face dropped. “That’s what I mean.” He looked to Gary. “This is all very scary to us. We’ve lost two coworkers and now you’re telling us our boss is a suspect.” He inclined his head toward Patricia. “And she’s not being very nice.”

  “Blake, is it?” Patricia said. “Please forgive my rudeness, but I think apprehending a killer is far more important than worrying about tact right now.”

  “Ms. Adams isn’t a killer,” he replied softly. “A bitch most of the time, yes. But not a killer.”

  “You’re sure of that, are you?” Patricia had known Adams far longer than any of these people and she wasn’t sure of a damn thing.

  “We’ve all been kind of sticking together lately, sharing rides, leaving together,” Blake said. “Looking out for each other, you know.”

  “That’s great. What’s your point?”

  Patricia glanced past him, toward Reggie. The accountant still stood where they’d left him, nervously watching the proceedings. His constant darting stares annoyed her, and she guessed he was trying to pluck up the nerve to say something more. She wondered just what all he’d seen working on a daily basis with Elizabeth Adams.

  “It was all Ms. Adam’s idea,” Blake informed her and Patricia realized she hadn’t heard a word he’d just said.

  “What was?” she asked.

  He sighed loudly, obviously displeased with her inattention. “Partnering up. She told all of us to never be alone unless we were at home with all the doors locked. She even gave us her private number in case we ever need anything.”

  Patricia didn’t respond. She was surprised. The Adams she knew didn’t give a fuck about anyone, much less their safety. Even when they’d dated, she didn’t give her the private number to her home or her lair. Patricia had been lucky to get her cell phone number and luckier still if she ever answered.

  “Thank you for the information, Blake,” Gary said. “Here’s my card. Call me anytime if you think of anything else.”

  As Blake slid the card into his pocket, Patricia said, “Keep doing what you’re doing. For safety. It’s better for you not to be alone.”

  He said nothing, lowered his eyes, and walked away.

  “Are you all right?” Gary asked.

  Patricia stared after Blake, lost in thought. “Not exactly.”

  Things she thought she knew for certain seemed to be melting away. People she thought she knew well seemed to have changed, or perhaps she was the one who’d changed. Erin. Elizabeth Adams. The murders. Her life. Her feelings. All of it spun together and warped into a heavy swirling mist that clouded her mind and made her dizzy.

  Behind her, she heard Stewart cursing. He and Hernandez had shown up to help with the interviews. Stewart was gripping a doorknob, shaking it furiously. “Why does this bitch keep everything locked!”

  Hernandez laughed. “To keep you out.”

  The door led into Liz’s private office. When Stewart dug in his pockets and retrieved a folding knife, Gary called, “Hey, pal. We can’t pick the lock. Not yet.”

  Stewart grimaced. “We got the bitch’s DNA. Ten minutes from now we’ll have the warrants to ransack every dyke pad she owns.”

  “I know.” Gary glanced toward Liz’s employees. They were watching every move the detectives made. “But we need to wait for those warrants. We have to do this exactly by the book. Ruiz and the department want to put her away for good this time. No fuckups. Nothing for her elaborate defense team to have fun with.”

  Stewart grumbled and put his knife away. “I really hate this Adams bitch. If you ask me, she’s with her sister. Whacking more men.” He looked around the studio with distaste. “They really film fruity porn in here?” He didn’t wait for an answer.

  “What about that phone number? Any luck yet?” Hernandez was referring to the satellite phone number Patricia had gotten from Erin.

  “Not so far,” she said. “We confirmed it was a satellite number, and they were waiting for some calls to come in on it in order to try a trace. But we all know those phones are damn near impossible to get a fix on.”

  “Last word we got on it,” Gary added, “was that the phone was in the Valle Luna area.”

  “I’m telling ya, they’re out whacking together.” Stewart shared his thoughts again. “One strangles, one stabs.”

  “But why?” Patricia murmured, surprised when she realized she’d spoken aloud.

  Stewart’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Why?” He looked to Gary. “Did you hit her in the head this morning or something?”

  She didn’t respond. Which also surprised her. Normally she’d have bitten back, but she was too confused and disoriented.

  Stewart took advantage and continued. “They’re fucked-up fruitcakes, that’s why. Man-hating dykes with a vengeance. Adams is borderline sociopathic, and the sister’s a loony. Any of this ringing a bell?”

  “Don’t forget what Henderson found digging around in Alabama,” Hernandez said.

  Stewart shoved in a mouthful of gum and nodded adamantly. “Yeah, if the sister really was sexually assaulted, that’s all the motive we need, right there.”

  Patricia agreed but thought back to the old woman she’d interviewed a few months before. In search of more on Jay Adams, she’d gone back to Arcane, Alabama. She hadn’t been able to find much, but what she did find was a s
tory she’d never forget.

  “I’m going to run home for a bit,” she told Gary. “I need to talk to Erin.”

  “I’ll call the second we hear something,” he said and escorted her to the door.

  As she stepped out into the piercing sun and walked to her vehicle, she thought back to the woman who’d told her that story. Lema Thorpe.

  The cicadas were so loud Patricia had asked the eighty-eight-year-old woman if they could speak inside. The rickety old screen door without a screen slammed shut behind her, causing Patricia to jump. Lema paid no mind, feet scooting along the worn wood floor, leading the way. Her house shoes were old, covered in tiny holes, and the once-white bottoms made a whooshing noise as her feet scooted.

  From deeper in the house Patricia heard the chirps of caged parakeets. Two cats caught her eye, one sprawled on the old kitchen table and the other crouched in a dark corner, watching her. The sound of claws clicking brought her gaze to Lema’s feet, where a fat little Chihuahua waddled in excitement.

  Patricia bent to pet him and he peed a little puddle while his tail went a mile a minute.

  “He does that,” Lema explained. “Means he likes you.”

  The overstuffed dog followed them into a tiny living room with walls completely covered in dusty-framed photos. Patricia thought the walls were all leaning inward, the weight from the frames too much to bear. There were school pictures of at least a dozen different kids.

  “Those are my great grand youngins,” Lema offered on a grunt, lowering her hefty frame into a creaking vinyl recliner.

  “That’s quite a bunch.”

  “Fourteen of ’em so far.” She was about to prop her feet up, but hesitated. “You don’t want nuthin’ to drink, do ya?”

  “No, I’m fine, thank you.”

  Lema grunted again as she reclined. “Chi Chi, come.” The dog scurried over but couldn’t jump up. She grabbed him by the collar and popped him up onto her lap.

  Patricia eased herself down onto a very comfortable couch covered in an old Pound Puppy bedsheet. Lema’s love for animals was evident everywhere.

  Lema scratched on Chi Chi’s head for a while, then reached for a Hill’s Brothers coffee can. She spat so hard Patricia swore she heard an echoing “ding” from the metallic bottom.