Deeper

by Ronica Black

  Her vulnerability didn’t change anything. Ruiz wanted Liz officially charged. He was practically drooling down their necks to get her, a rabid dog chewing through the last link of the chain.

  But Patricia still wasn’t comfortable with the facts. The blood found in De Maro’s underwear could belong to Liz, yes. But Liz’s alibi was panning out. She’d stopped for gas around eleven p.m., which was the estimated time of death for Jay. They found the receipt in her Range Rover and were reviewing the surveillance tapes from the station. Then she’d been stopped driving toward the scene a short time later. Liz wasn’t their killer. Patricia was pretty sure of that. But still things weren’t adding up.

  “We found blood in the second victim’s underwear,” Gary said. “Antwon De Maro. The DNA was a match for you or for Jay. How do you explain that, Ms. Adams?”

  Gary was overtired and had reached the point where his body was firing on one last cylinder of energy. Patricia knew he was good for about another hour, then he’d be toast.

  Liz didn’t seem to have an answer. She clenched her jaw in obvious frustration. “I don’t know.”

  “If neither one of you were involved…” Gary added.

  “Look, I said I don’t know.” A tiny vessel in her temple throbbed. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know.” She looked to her lawyer. “Someone is framing me.”

  “Who?”

  “If I knew, don’t you think I’d tell you?”

  “Up to this point you haven’t been very forthcoming,” Gary said.

  Liz tried to move again. Her anger was palpable. “You’re lucky I’m telling you anything at all, asshole.”

  “Detectives, I think that’s quite enough,” Cynthia said. “She’s told you all that she knows.”

  But Liz had more to say. “Jay did what you couldn’t. She found him and he killed her. He made it look like she killed herself. Then he tried to kill one more, just to make it seem convincing.”

  Patricia listened without reservation. She wasn’t sure what to think. She nodded at Gary and he stopped the recorder and tucked it into his pocket. They stood to leave.

  “Am I still under arrest?” Liz asked.

  “Yes.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “For starters, the DNA match,” Gary said. “Then there’s the connection between you and three of the deceased. You’ve been harboring a wanted person. A person who was wanted in connection to another string of murders. Shall I go on?”

  Cynthia spoke, trying to head off further confrontation. “I’ve arranged to meet the bail.”

  “How much was it? A million?” Liz’s sarcasm was tinged with anger.

  Cynthia cleared her throat. “Five hundred thousand.”

  Liz glared at the detectives. “Get out.”

  Patricia followed Gary out the door. She could hear Liz cursing behind them as the door eased shut.

  “Wait till she hears about the monitoring bracelet she’ll have to wear,” Gary said.

  Patricia shook her head, glad for about the tenth time that day that she wasn’t Cynthia Carmichael.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Erin approached slowly, her black pumps sinking in the thick Bermuda grass. A cool breeze blew against her face. Patricia walked next to her as they wove a silent path between dozens of head stone markers. The majority were flat and flush with the ground; only the older ones stood vertical. She read the names absently as she passed by. Lesnick. Raphael. Shepard.

  When she saw Elizabeth she sucked in a quick, panicky breath. Glancing skyward, she thanked any and all that Liz was still alive. The sun broke through the clouds, as if answering. Thick angled beams shot through the clouds, five of them, fingers of the heavens. She inhaled deeply at their caress. The sharp scent of fresh grass clippings lingered in the air. In the distance a caretaker’s weed eater buzzed.

  “You sure you want to do this?” Patricia asked.

  “Yes.” Erin smoothed down her simple black dress and focused through her sunglasses.

  Ahead several people were gathered around a shiny black casket adorned with a mountain of wildflowers. Liz and Tyson stood next to the robed minister. A few feet from them, two men in suits looked on with stoic professionalism, obviously the funeral directors. Tyson stepped forward to lay a single white rose next to the wildflowers on the casket before returning to Liz’s side and placing an arm around her.

  Erin stopped walking. Her breath hitched in her chest. Liz wore a dark suit. White bandages covered her hands. But Erin’s eyes fixed on her hair. It was gone…the long, black-as-midnight strands. Cut completely off. Shorn as Jay’s once had been. And the similarity in their appearance was overwhelming. Erin couldn’t get over it. Beside her, Patricia drew a sharp, unsteady breath. She saw the same picture. It looked like Jay was standing at her own funeral.

  Patricia took Erin’s hand and squeezed it gently. They stayed where they were, on the perimeter. The minister kept reading, talking about heaven and earth. Liz stepped up to the casket and held up a dandelion. She blew it into the wind and then bent to kiss the casket. Erin could see her struggling to keep her composure. Her strong body seemed frail. When she straightened, she caught sight of them. Erin instantly released Patricia’s hand, but not before a flash of hurt and anger slashed across the fierce blue eyes. Liz stepped away and hurried toward them. Her gait was determined, her face thin and contorted in venomous anger.

  “Get the fuck out of here,” she hissed, glaring at them both.

  “Liz, I…” Erin said.

  “I don’t want to hear it.” Liz stared at Patricia. “My sister is dead. Isn’t that enough for you? Isn’t it enough that it’s killing me?” She looked around in a fury. “Are you staking out her funeral? Watching as I put her into the ground? Is it funny for you?” Her entire body trembled with her words.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” Patricia said softly. “Erin didn’t want to come alone.”

  Liz tore her gaze over to Erin. Her face twisted with hurt. “How could you?”

  “I came for you,” Erin said.

  “For me? What for? To shove it in my face?”

  Erin looked to Patricia. “Will you excuse us for a moment?”

  “Sure.” Patricia hesitated. She seemed to sense what Liz was thinking and said, “There’s nothing going on with Erin and me. We’re friends.”

  As she walked away, Liz turned to Erin and said bitterly, “What are you waiting for? Go.”

  “I’m not leaving.” Erin grabbed Liz by the forearm before she could turn back toward the funeral service. “You’re not going to push me away this time.”

  “I don’t need you, or anyone else,” Liz said, her voice cracking. “They all leave. Everyone leaves. No one stays forever. No one.”

  Erin was pained at the words. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she examined the thick bandages on Liz’s hands. Patricia had told her about the outburst, about the broken fingers and lacerations. It hurt her terribly to see Liz like this, to know that she was hurting so badly.

  “I won’t leave,” she whispered.

  “You already have.”

  “No, I haven’t. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

  “You can’t guarantee that. Jay’s gone, and she was always there.”

  Erin rubbed the bandages carefully, wishing she could unwrap them and lightly kiss her skin, tend to her wounds. “You don’t have to push me away, Liz. You don’t have to keep stuff from me. I can handle it.”

  When they’d found Jay it became clear to Erin why Liz had rejected her. She hadn’t wanted to tell her about Jay, she hadn’t wanted her involved.

  Liz didn’t respond. Behind her, Tyson approached. His suit was tailor-made, his tie slate gray. He looked enormous and kind, his brown eyes tired.

  “Is everything okay?” He seemed relieved to see Erin, but it was short lived.

  “Ms. McKenzie was just leaving,” Liz said.

  Erin squeezed her arm and held her eyes. “Tyson, I’m not going anywhere
.”

  He appeared confused, looking from Erin to Liz. “Ma’am?”

  Liz jerked her arm away.

  “I love you,” Erin declared.

  “Get her out of here.” Liz turned away as she began to shake with sobs.

  Erin rounded her quickly and enveloped her in a hug. She held her tight, not caring that Liz didn’t return the embrace. The pain came out of Liz in short, sharp gasps and sobs, each one piercing Erin’s heart. Erin held tight, inhaling the scent of her, relishing the feel of her. It was so right.

  “I love you,” she said again, crying with her.

  Liz was hurting so badly. So very, very badly.

  They cried into one another for a long while before Erin felt Liz stiffen. Pushing away from Erin, Liz attempted to wipe her eyes with her bandaged hands. Erin did it for her, smoothing the tears away, holding Liz’s face in her hands. She was so thin and fragile, all dried out from the oozing pain, a dead fall leaf scraping along the sidewalk, aimless, waiting for the wind. Erin feared that wind, knowing it would whisk her up and carry her away forever.

  “Please, Liz, let me in. Let me love you.”

  Liz looked at her with eyes the color of a melting glacier. “Go.” The word came out on a strangle. She turned and walked back toward the service.

  Tyson gave Erin an apologetic look and followed.

  The clouds swallowed the sun then, leaving them all in shadows.

  *

  Tyson held on to his longtime boss as the casket descended slowly into the ground. Her body felt like bones under the suit. Tears of his own fell as the minister sprinkled dirt into the air, intoning, “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” As the dirt hit the casket, Liz nearly collapsed in his arms.

  They turned away and he held her tightly as she cried. The past few days had been hard and he’d worried that she wouldn’t make it through. She’d always been a rock, a pillar of grace and strength. But this, this had killed her. She wouldn’t eat and would only sleep when drugged. He’d brought the Xanax to her late last night, insisting she take them to rest. When she took them without argument, he figured it was only because she was too exhausted to fight.

  “It’s all right now,” he whispered.

  “I don’t want to leave her. She’ll be alone. All alone in the ground.”

  He knew she was worried about that. It was why she’d had her buried here rather than where they were from. So she could watch over her.

  “She’s gone now, Ms. Adams. She’s not really in there.”

  “Then where is she, Tyson? Because I need to find her.”

  He placed his hand on her chest. “She’s in here. And you don’t need to look no further.”

  He hadn’t ever known Jay Adams, but he knew enough. To see his boss like this told him what kind of a person Jay was.

  She placed a heavily bandaged hand over his. “I love you, Tyson.”

  He was surprised but he nodded. “I know. I love you too.”

  She inhaled and her breath shook. “You’ve been very good to me.”

  Again he nodded. “And you’ve been good to me.”

  He took good care of her and she took good care of him. Recently she’d given him a large bonus to help with the purchase of his house. A couple of years earlier she’d paid the medical expenses when his youngest daughter fell ill with pneumonia. No one would know these things and few would ever believe them. But he knew who Elizabeth Adams really was. He wouldn’t put in the long hours or remain so loyal otherwise. Over the years their business relationship had evolved into friendship and an unspoken understanding of unconditional support. They could count on one another, no matter what.

  “We should go,” he said gently.

  Two grave diggers had arrived, shovels in hand. They lit smokes and lingered against a tree as they waited. The men in the suits had gone for the limousine, which sat idling against the curb.

  Tyson helped her walk, cupping her elbow and supporting her waist. He glanced to his left and saw Erin McKenzie crying onto the shoulder of the detective. It had been a punch to his gut the way his boss had spoken to her. The happiest he’d ever seen her was when she was with Erin McKenzie. And she’d been the unhappiest he’d ever seen her without her. That unhappiness, coupled with the loss of Jay, caused him a great deal of concern.

  “That woman loves you,” he said. “And you can say what you want, but I know you love her too.”

  For a second he thought she was going to lay into him. But the flash of anger never glinted in her eyes. Only sadness. “I can’t, Tyson. It’s not safe and I just can’t.”

  He thought on that a moment. He thought of his wife and his children. If their safety was ever an issue, he’d figure out a way to protect them, but he would never leave them. If you love someone enough you do what you have to do. She might be worried about Erin’s safety, but forcing her to leave was no solution. It was just an excuse because Erin had obviously gotten under his boss’s skin.

  Since no one else ever had, he figured that probably scared her pretty good.

  He looked her in the eye and told her point-blank, “Then you better figure out a way so you can be with her.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “How is he?” Patricia studied the unidentified male from behind a pane of glass.

  The doctor popped a white Tic Tac in his mouth and crunched. He slid a thick pair of eyeglasses over his ears and opened a binder. He had three other pairs of glasses around his neck as well. Patricia wondered what they were all for.

  “He’s still unconscious. Unable to breathe on his own. His brain scans look promising, though.”

  “So, you think he’ll wake up?”

  “Hard to say. One never knows for sure. Some do, some don’t.”

  “But he isn’t brain dead?” Patricia looked back through the window at all the tubes running into him, each one keeping him alive. His head was completely wrapped up with only slits for eyes. He looked like an alien mummy. She shivered.

  The doctor closed the book and exchanged the thick glasses for another pair. “No, the head trauma was the worst of it. He was beaten pretty badly. There was some swelling of the brain, which we had to drain. But his initial scans look good. It’s up to him now.”

  Patricia looked back at the sole surviving victim. His hands were also bandaged. They couldn’t lift good prints because of his self-defense injuries. He’d fought hard, tearing up his fingers, fingernails, and neck in the process. Patricia wondered why he’d fought when the other two hadn’t. Why he was buried and hidden under brush when the others had been left out on display.

  “What about his toxicology?” she asked.

  Again the doctor switched glasses and flipped through the binder. “Alcohol was below legal limit and he was clean.”

  That could explain why he fought back. He wasn’t drugged. Both De Maro and Gillette had ecstasy in their systems.

  She checked to be certain. “No ecstasy?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “How much would one have to take to be rendered helpless?”

  He closed the book and dropped the glasses to rest around his neck. This time he stared through the window without any aid. “Helpless? I’d say one would have to be pretty well impaired. Unconscious or close to it. Ecstasy affects people in different ways depending upon height and weight. Some can handle more than others.”

  “If someone on ecstasy was being strangled to death, would they fight back?”

  He frowned at her, obviously disturbed at the thought. “Yes.”

  “Unless they were completely out of it, nearly unconscious?”

  “In my opinion, yes.”

  His answers only confused her more. They stared at the unidentified man. She needed him to wake up. She needed to know who he was.

  “When do you think his hands will be healed enough for us to lift prints?”

  “Another week or so. I’ll call with any news.” He slid on another pair of specs and walked away.

 
Patricia glanced at her wristwatch. The truck driver she’d called for an interview was probably waiting. She hurried to her Blazer and climbed in. The alarm hadn’t been set and it was unlocked. Again she wondered if she was losing her mind.

  “Hi,” a voice said softly.

  “Holy shit.” Patricia grasped her chest. “Mac, what the hell?”

  Erin was slumped in the passenger seat. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

  Patricia didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t understand why Adams had been so stubborn when Erin reached out to her at the funeral. If she didn’t love Erin that would be one thing, but it was pretty obvious that she did, as much as a woman like that could love anyone.

  “How did you get here?” It seemed as though Erin had appeared from nowhere.

  “I drove. I was going crazy at the house. I don’t want to go back there. Can we just drive around or something?”

  Patricia eyed the clock. She didn’t have time for this now. “Sally Trucker,” as Gary called her, wasn’t going to wait all day to make her statement. She started the Blazer and sped out of the parking lot.

  Erin was silent for a few minutes, staring down at her hands, then she said, “I haven’t been honest with you.”

  Patricia glanced over at her.

  “I took your paperwork on the serial cases and copied it. I’ve been reading it. I know everything.” She sniffled. “Well, everything up until Jay was found.”

  Patricia braked hard at a red light. “Why would you do that?” Her body tensed and her heart rate kicked up in betrayal. “You knew how I felt about you getting involved. You aren’t a member of the force anymore, you’re a civilian.”

  “I know, I know. I just…” Erin began to cry. “I did it for Liz. I wanted to help. I wanted to find the killer.”

  Patricia smacked the heel of her hand on the steering wheel as the light turned green. “Damn it, I trusted you. I should’ve locked my office door.” She glared at her, the woman she thought was a friend. “You betrayed me, Mac.”

  Erin wrung her hands. “I’m sorry. I know you’ll probably never forgive me.”