Deeper

by Ronica Black

  “Now then.” Lema exchanged that can for a smaller one, stuffing snuff into her bottom lip. “What can I do for you, young lady?” Her eyes were so light blue that Patricia had wondered at first if she was blind. Combined with a short shock of messy white hair, they almost made Patricia lose her train of thought entirely.

  “I’m looking for information on Jay Adams.”

  Lema stared. Patricia had gotten access to the house asking about a neighbor who lived nearby. Now that her real intentions had come to light, Lema Thorpe no longer seemed so welcoming.

  “How do you know Jay?”

  “I know her sister, Elizabeth.”

  “Why did you come to me?”

  Patricia hesitated. She’d sworn to the deputy that she wouldn’t tell anyone where he’d pointed her. “A friend told me you were the one to see.”

  Lema seemed to take that in for a moment. “Who was Jay’s father?”

  It seemed Patricia was in for a quiz.

  “That’s a secret.”

  “You don’t know.” Lema spat.

  “How do I know you do?”

  Again the stare.

  “If Dayne and Jerry were alive I wouldn’t be here bothering you,” Patricia said smoothly. “But Elizabeth is ill and we need to find Jay. You’re my only hope.”

  The names seemed to help melt Lema’s resolve. “Lizzie is sick? Out there in New Mexico? I told that child not to run off. You can run from demons but you can’t run from the devil.” She fixed her stare on the nearby wall. “Jay and Lizzie Adams,” she said, almost to herself, “Those were the two biggest tomboys I ever did see.”

  “Do you happen to know where Jay is now?” Patricia tried to keep her on topic.

  “No, ma’am. Heard about her being around, but I hadn’t seen her in years.”

  “Can you tell me about her childhood?”

  Lema grew quiet. “You don’t want to know about that.”

  “Actually, I do. I need to know. In order to help find her.”

  Lema spit in the can and Patricia caught a whiff of the sticky-smelling tobacco mixed with old coffee. Somehow it soothed her. The birds chirped from the next room.

  “Jay didn’t have no normal childhood. Laws, no.” Lema seemed to grow sad, working her lower lip. “That poor child.”

  “Why is that?”

  “If you know Lizzie, you should know this.”

  Patricia squeezed her hands together. “Liz refuses to say. And no one else will tell me. Did something happen to her? Did someone hurt her?”

  Lema’s eyes drifted back to hers. “They didn’t want no one to know. Something like that happens, it’s best if folks don’t know. And around these parts, your word is your word.”

  “Mrs. Thorpe, please. I need to know. She and Liz, they’re in trouble and I’m afraid someone will get hurt, Liz is sick. Please.” She was having trouble keeping her stories straight, but she was so close to the truth she could feel it vibrating her bones.

  “You ain’t the law, are you?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “So she ain’t done nuthin’ bad?”

  Patricia lied again. “No.”

  “’Cuz if she did, it wouldn’t been all her fault. After what happened to her, she just wuldn’t right after that.”

  “Mrs. Thorpe, what happened?”

  Lema worked on her snuff a bit as she thought. “When them girls was about eleven, they came upon a man in the woods. He got to Jay. Lizzie ran off to tell. My boys was Jerry’s friends. They went with him that day. By the time they found her, she’d been violated and beat to tarnation.” She met Patricia’s eyes. “What that man done to her, no human should have to suffer.”

  Patricia’s heart rose to thud in her throat. “Did she see a doctor?” Her first thought was of Jay’s well-being, but then she wondered if there was medical record somewhere from a hospital.

  Lema stroked Chi Chi. “Yes. And he told Jerry what the man had did.”

  “What happened to the man?”

  “I can’t say.”

  Patricia wasn’t sure if she didn’t know or if she really couldn’t say. Whatever the reason, Lema had stopped with her tale and her constant stroking. Chi Chi gazed up at her, offering his belly if she would continue.

  “What happened to Jay? Did she stay in the hospital?”

  “No, the doc looked her over, cleaned her up the best he could. Jerry didn’t want her in no hospital after he heard what all had been done to her.” She paused again, staring off at the wall. “But she wuldn’t right after that. In the head. Never was the same.”

  “Well, this certainly explains a lot.”

  “How’s that?”

  Patricia rose, having said too much. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Thorpe. I really appreciate it.”

  Lema looked surprised. “You leaving so soon?”

  “Do you have more you can tell me?”

  Lema stroked the dog. Her light eyes seemed to cloud over with sadness. “No, I can’t say no more.” She started to pet Chi Chi again. “Those two girls. What all they went through. They was attached at the hip. Before and after. Seen things, and been through things no child should have to go through.”

  “Mrs. Thorpe, is there anyone else I might be able to talk to about this? Someone who might know more?”

  “Heavens no. Ain’t no one around here gonna talk. I didn’t ever give anyone my word, but I’ve already said too much.”

  “Is there anywhere I could look for Jay?”

  Lema wagged a finger at her. “Child, the one and only place that holds Jay Adams is them woods.”

  “She’s in the woods?”

  “She’ll always be in them woods. They know all. They hold all.” Lema spat. “Can you see yourself out?”

  Patricia nodded, thanked her again, and walked out.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jack greeted Patricia at the door. He wagged his tail and danced on his hind legs until she plucked him up and kissed him. She sighed as she punched in the code to turn off the alarm. Erin wasn’t home. Nothing seemed to be going right. She picked up the phone and called her. Erin’s voice mail answered. Patricia hung up. She was about to call back and leave a message when the doorbell rang. Surprised and thinking maybe Erin forgot her key, she quickly answered.

  This time true surprise formed a gasp that escaped her throat.

  Sinclair thrust out a small cake and smiled so the one dimple showed. “I came offering peace.”

  Patricia just stared.

  “I was wrong about Adams. We heard this morning.” Sinclair withdrew the cake by a few inches when it was not accepted. She shook her head. “This was a bad idea. I never do stuff like this. I should go.”

  “No. Please. Come in.” The words rushed out and Patricia stepped to one side.

  “Are you sure?” Sinclair palmed the back of her neck, looking nervous.

  Up until that point Patricia hadn’t thought the woman could ever get nervous. She always seemed so poised and confident. Patricia smiled and took the cake from her. As Sinclair stepped inside, Patricia caught the freshly scrubbed spicy scent of her. Her heart fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings.

  “I’m sorry about showing up like this,” Sinclair said.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Patricia smiled again at her. “At least you were polite enough to bring cake. I didn’t bring you anything but attitude when I showed up on your doorstep.”

  Sinclair laughed and lowered her hand. She looked to the cake. “It’s a pineapple upside-down cake. My brother-in-law made it. He uses a good recipe, Hawaiian.”

  “Oh.” Patricia moved into the kitchen. “Should we cut it now?”

  “Sure.”

  Patricia set the cake on the counter, peeled off the saran wrap, and pulled a large knife from the block next to the stove. “So how did you find me?”

  “It wasn’t hard.” Sinclair was looking around at the house. “It’s funny, but this is just how I pictured it.” She was in baggy jeans
and a white long-sleeved soft flannel shirt. She rolled up the cuffs with long nimble fingers.

  “You pictured my house?” Just the thought threatened to color her cheeks so she focused on the cake, cutting two thick slices and placing them on plates.

  “Yeah. Well, you know, you meet someone and wonder about things.”

  Patricia didn’t say anything. Has she wondered about me as I have her? She handed her a plate and then remembered the forks. Turning toward the drawers so her face couldn’t be seen, she asked, “And how is that?”

  As she plucked out two forks she felt her ears redden. Sinclair was behind her saying words like “warm” and “lots of reds and earth tones.” The word “fiery” made her skin burn, and she turned around slowly. Their eyes met. Sinclair’s skin had darkened as well, at the base of her jaw.

  They sat at the table in silence until Jack rocketed back in through the doggie door. His whole body shook with excitement as Sinclair leaned over to pet him.

  “You like animals?” Patricia asked.

  “Of course. I just haven’t decided on one yet. With my hours sometimes it seems unfair.” She straightened and looked back down at Jack. “He seems to be fine, though. The dog door probably helps.”

  “I try to come home frequently during long hours. To check on him and stuff.” Patricia finally took a bite of the cake because she couldn’t seem to form any more words. It was so good it made her mouth water. “God, this is delicious.”

  Sinclair smiled. “I’ll tell Denny you like it. I’m sure he’ll send some more my way for you. He and my sister just moved here from Hawaii. I followed.”

  “Wanted to be close to family?”

  “Yes, and they’re pregnant.”

  “How exciting.”

  “It is. I can’t wait.”

  Their eyes met again. Patricia looked away first. She thought of a question. “So where were you before, D.C.?”

  Sinclair blinked. “How did you know?”

  “It wasn’t hard.”

  Sinclair took another bite, chuckling softly. “Yes, I was with the Bureau.”

  “Must’ve been quite a change. The Bureau to Valle Luna.”

  “It was. But it was needed. My relationship had ended, I was tired of D.C. and I wanted the chance to physically chase criminals rather than just chasing them on paper.”

  Patricia assumed she was referring to the profiling work she’d done. But her mind focused in on the word relationship. “I’m sorry about your relationship.”

  Sinclair swallowed. “Do you mind if I get something to drink?”

  “Of course, I’m sorry.”

  Patricia stood, embarrassed. Sinclair did as well and they bumped into one another. They were eye to eye. She could smell the pineapple and spice coming from Sinclair. Her eyes were that warm, soft cinnamon again.

  Sinclair squeezed her forearm, as if trying to comfort her. “I can get it.” The smile was back and Patricia wanted so badly to reach out and touch the dimple. Sinclair pointed to the cabinet next to the fridge. “In here?”

  “Yes.”

  She got down two glasses and opened the fridge. “Milk okay?”

  “Yes.” Patricia stared at the thick muscled legs and ass under Sinclair’s jeans.

  Oblivious, Sinclair continued speaking as she poured the milk. “My relationship ending was a good thing. I’d been in it for almost ten years. The last few weren’t good.” She set the milk on its shelf in the fridge and handed Patricia a full glass. “My partner started drinking about five years ago. She’d seen something really bad, something she couldn’t handle.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “It was, yes. She worked in missing children.”

  “Oh.” Patricia could only imagine the horror.

  Sinclair nodded. “Anyway, I got her into therapy, but nothing helped. The drinking worsened. Then it became less about the pain and more about the drinking. She lost her job. Hated me and all I stood for. Eventually, I came home one day and she was gone.”

  “She just left?”

  “Uh-huh. She went off with her new friends. She’d started hanging around with some pretty scary people. Drug addicts and the like. I found her at a run-down duplex, living there with two other women and a man.” She paused, staring into her glass of milk. “I asked her to come home, offered again to get serious help. She told me to fuck off. Slammed the door in my face.”

  The pain on Sinclair’s face was heart wrenching. “I’m so sorry.” Patricia covered her hand and squeezed.

  Sinclair snapped out of her daze. “It’s okay. I got through it. Realized it wasn’t me. And that it really wasn’t even her. It was the alcohol. So when my sister called with the news of the baby and the move to Valle Luna, I made my move.”

  “She hasn’t tried to contact you?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want her to?”

  Sinclair lowered the glass. “No. I’ve moved on. She has too. She’ll never call for money or anything like that. Her folks are wealthy and they won’t cut her off.”

  “Have you dated?” Patricia couldn’t believe she’d even asked. She fought off the urge to smack herself in the head.

  Sinclair merely smiled. “Not yet. I needed to redefine me first. Find my happiness, my core.”

  “And have you?”

  “Yes.”

  They both ate after that, sitting comfortably in silence.

  “Thank you for coming over,” Patricia said after a while.

  Sinclair seemed surprised by her words. “Thanks for having me.”

  “Anytime.”

  “I can’t believe I just told you all that.”

  Patricia formed a half smile, one of amusement. “I can’t either.”

  “I’m just going to eat my cake now and try to forget how crazy my life must sound.”

  Patricia laughed. As far as strange went, Sinclair’s life had nothing on her own. She and her department were hunting down Elizabeth Adams, her own former lover, on murder charges. As if that weren’t enough, Erin, whom she’d also slept with, could be obstructing justice if she knew where Adams was hiding out. Yet with all that going on, the last place Patricia expected to be was sitting there at her kitchen table eating pineapple upside-down cake with the rival, yet very intriguing Detective Audrey Sinclair.

  “So why didn’t you tell me you were a published author?” Sinclair pushed her plate aside. “It’s all over the sheriff’s department. Everyone’s got your new book.”

  “Oh, God. I was hoping it wouldn’t cause a ruckus.” Patricia stared down at her plate. The cake suddenly seemed way too heavy on her stomach. “How did the sheriff’s department even find out about it?”

  She’d used false names and the book was written as fiction. But the storyline was very real.

  Sinclair laughed. “The departments may be rivals, but rumors spread freely and often across the border.”

  “Great.” She could already hear Ruiz thundering down on her like God himself.

  “It’s a great book,” Sinclair said.

  “You’ve read it?” Her publisher had called to say the early reviews were good and the book was selling.

  “Sure. As soon as I heard about it, I picked it up.”

  “And you were worried I would think your life is crazy?”

  “Reading your story helped. I probably wouldn’t have shared mine otherwise.”

  Patricia grimaced. “It’s supposed to be fiction.” She thought of the romance she’d also written, the one about Erin, and how quickly she was called out on that one.

  “Everyone else in America will see it as fiction,” Sinclair said. “Good fiction.”

  “Yet your colleagues are talking about it like frat-house boys discussing an easy lay.”

  Sinclair laughed. “Well, the sheriff is using it as an example as to why we should steer clear of the Valle Luna P.D.”

  “Wonderful.” Patricia had heard enough to light an unpleasant fire under her ass. She rose and took their
plates, heading for the sink, needing to do something other than sit.

  “I won’t hold it against you.” Sinclair followed, carrying their glasses. “You’re the one who saved the day, solved the case.”

  She stood next to Patricia, waiting as she turned on the faucet. Patricia sank her hands gratefully into the hot water. When Sinclair added her dishes, their hands collided and Sinclair’s fingers slipped into hers. A breath of air escaped Patricia at the contact. The baked-cinnamon eyes moved from Patricia’s face to her lips. When they came back up they were full of shimmering flames.

  The scent of pineapple and sugary rum sauce mixed with the lemony fragrance of the hot suds. They floated into her head like a dream. Feeling pleasantly dizzy, she lingered under Audrey Sinclair’s warm, hazy gaze the way she would face-up to the sun. Her skin felt caressed, and she seemed fixed to the ground like she never wanted to move out from the rays.

  When Sinclair kissed her, she moaned and pressed back. Full and agile, Sinclair’s lips framed hers, first the top, then the bottom. Pressing and holding and tasting. The soft warmth of her lips gave way to the soft, hot wetness of her mouth. Again Patricia moaned, loving the taste and feel of her. Sweet like sugar, liquid sugar.

  A cough came, loud and excusing. It didn’t come from Sinclair. Patricia heard the cough again and the lips left hers. She opened her eyes, feeling empty. Sinclair squeezed her forearm and followed her gaze to the woman standing in the kitchen entryway. Erin looked ashen and a little angry.

  “Mac, hi.” Patricia wiped her hands on a dishtowel and passed it to Sinclair. “This is—”

  “Sinclair. With the sheriff’s office,” Erin snapped. “I saw you on television.”

  Sinclair dried her hands and offered a small smile. “I should get going.”

  Patricia was tempted to ask her to stay, but she remembered her promise to Erin. They had a lot to discuss. She felt her face fall with disappointment. “I’m sorry,” she said with a regretful smile.

  “No, I’m sorry,” Erin let out. “Please don’t leave on account of me. I can just go back out the way I came.”