12
One shot of our espresso, and you’ll
be able to thread a sewing machine.
While it’s running.
—SIGN AT CAFFEINE-WAH
Sun pulled into the parking lot later than she’d hoped. Most of the kids had already gone home. Those that hadn’t were standing around, waiting for their rides or bus, shivering. A fresh helping of snow had been promised, but it was getting colder. Almost too cold to snow.
She put the cruiser in park, then looked across the smattering of students for a head of bright copper. Having no luck, she texted her offspring. “I’m in the parking lot. I got back earlier than I thought I would, so I’m here instead of Grandma. Did she pick you up, anyway? After I texted her that I’d be here? Because I wouldn’t put it past her.”
When she didn’t get a response, she started to worry. Not bad. Just a faint uneasiness in the back of her mind.
She grabbed her phone to text again when a knock sounded on her window.
She lowered it to a pretty blonde with a round face. “Are you Auri’s mom?”
The faint uneasiness catapulted into near panic. “Yes,” she said, making sure her interior turmoil did not leech to her exterior.
“Hi!”
Sun flinched at the girl’s enthusiasm but kept her cool.
“I’m Auri’s friend Chastity. We have athletics together. But there were some girls teasing her in class.”
Sun’s calm exterior evaporated. “Teasing her?”
“Yeah. Just being jerks. You know the kind.”
“Unfortunately, I do.”
“She took off down the street.” Chastity pointed past the school and toward the center of the village, which was the opposite direction of their apartment.
Then it hit her. Damn. It meant Auri had had a worse day than she’d expected.
“Thank you, Chastity.”
The girl beamed at her. “No, ma’am. Thank you.”
Having no idea what the blonde was thanking her for, Sun threw her cruiser into drive and headed toward Town Square.
She pulled into the parking lot and up to the memorial that sat in front of city hall. Auri sat on the side of a memorial fountain. A fountain dedicated to Samson Elio Vicram, Auri’s father for all intents and purposes, as well as other soldiers the town had lost in military combat, some going all the way back to World War I.
But the memorial itself was mostly in memoriam of Samson.
Sun sat beside her daughter, who’d cleared off a spot for her on the fountain when she saw her walking up.
“Hey, Mom,” she said as though she hadn’t a care in the world.
“Hey, bug bite. I was worried your grandmother forgot and picked you up, but then this extremely happy blonde—”
“Chastity.”
“Yes, Chastity told me you’d walked toward Town Square.”
“Yeah, I just wanted to get out. Get some fresh air.”
“Thirty degrees is pretty fresh.”
“I guess.”
“How bad was it?”
“What?”
“The teasing.”
Auri wilted. “Not bad. I’ll probably never live it down, and I’ll need a lot of therapy, but all in all, not bad.”
Sun nodded, wondering how she of all people had raised such a horrible liar.
“How’s your dad?” She turned and looked at the gorgeous memorial the town had put up after Sun’s husband was killed in Afghanistan barely one month after they got married.
The artist had carved an image into the sandstone pillar, three circles interlinked. Underneath was a bunch of gibberish about Samson being a son of Del Sol even though he hadn’t been from the town, and then a list of all the sons Del Sol had lost. Legitimate sons. Sons who deserved the monument much more than her husband had.
Sun had barely looked at it during the dedication. Hadn’t even noticed the image when it was first erected, and only took note after walking to and from the courthouse for this reason or that.
But Auri had come here often. Sun’s parents had told her that Auri would come to the memorial several times each summer and talk to her dad. It both warmed her heart and weighed it down.
“He’s good. He says hi.”
She laughed softly. “Well, tell him hi back. So, everything is okay?”
Auri shrugged. “Of course.”
“The whole narc thing just blew over?”
“I guess. Nobody’s said anything about it.”
“You know, you could tell me if they did.”
“My boots are ruined,” she said, changing the subject. She picked up one foot. It had mud on it from her walk.
“Oh no.” Sun inspected the boot and then said, “I don’t think three tiny spots of mud constitutes ruination, but we can have them cleaned.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll see what I can do.”
Sun drew in a deep breath. It was back. The wall Auri constructed whenever she worried she was becoming a burden. Most kids loved being burdens. Reveled in it. Counted on it to get their way on multiple occasions. But not this little morsel of moxie. Nugget of nerve. Princess of pluck.
It was the red hair. Sun knew it down to her bones. That red soaked into her brain and set it on fire. And Sun would have it no other way.
“Well, if you’re done shivering, you ready to go to Grandma and Grandpa’s?”
“Can I order pizza?” she asked after a quick hit off her inhaler.
“As long as it has something with an actual vitamin on it.”
“Cheese has vitamins.”
Sun laughed and walked her daughter to the cruiser arm in arm.
She dropped Auri off and gave her mother the signal. The look she only gave her when Auri was in a bad place but didn’t want anyone to know. They’d been through a lot with her when she was younger. They’d perfected that look and the many devious ways in which to send it with Auri none the wiser.
Elaine’s lids rounded, but Sun followed up the look with the shake. A quick, almost imperceptible shake of the head that let the other one know to stay quiet. For now.
Elaine pursed her lips, but complied.
After a quick trip to the apartment to change into something more comfortable, basically still her uniform but a khaki shirt and jeans with her badge attached to the belt, she donned her official bomber jacket and headed out. She grabbed a burrito from the Kachina Kitchen and headed back to the station.
Salazar had procured the surveillance footage from the Quick-Mart for the date of the receipt Sun had found under the tree. She was impressed. These situations could get sticky. It was amazing how much a regular joe did not want to assist in an investigation, especially if it consisted of them getting off their stools behind the cash register and hunting through surveillance footage.
Sometimes it took a little extra assertiveness to convince them to do their civic duty. Threats also worked. But Salazar was about as threatening as a bunny rabbit dressed in pink.
With the swing shift in full force, Sun sat down at her desk and reviewed the footage. An older male, judging by his gait, tall and painfully thin wearing a dark jacket, baseball cap, and sunglasses. And he bought an energy drink. He paid cash. It was a nail-biter. A real edge-of-the-seater. Then he walked out.
Unfortunately, the cameras outside were not working, so they didn’t get a description of the vehicle he drove.
She checked the records they sent over for every gas purchase in case the guy filled up and wrote down the names for Anita to cross-check with the parameters set.
“Burrito,” Zee said.
“Want some?” Sun asked, inviting her into the office with a wave.
“Nah. Just signing off. What do you got?”
“Surveillance footage.”
“Fun.” She stepped closer. “Want me to run those names?”
“Nope. I need you fresh tomorrow, too.”
“I don’t mind.”
Sun grinned at her. “I know.” Zee started to leave, whe
n Sun stopped her. “Are you sorry you took this job yet?”
“Please.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I love this weird little town. And I’m thinking about asking Doug out.”
“The flasher? I heard he’s a great kisser.”
“I bet he is.”
“So,” Sun said, hedging a subject that did not need to be hedged, “you and Quincy.”
“Ew. We’re siblings. Twins, even. How can you . . . ? Why would you . . . ? He is cute, though.” Her dark skin practically glowed with appreciation.
“He is, and he’s one of the good ones, but if you tell him I said that, I’ll seek revenge. I’m not above threatening you with a grapefruit spoon.”
“They make spoons for grapefruit?”
“They do. They’re really cool. Serrated.”
“Nice. Welp, off to get my beauty rest.”
“Wait,” Sun said, leaning closer to the computer screen.
“Okay.”
The problem with surveillance cameras were they usually had horrible resolution. This footage was no exception, so it took a minute to figure out what she was seeing. “Check this out.”
Zee leaned down. “What are we looking at?”
“Okay, this is the guy who bought the energy drink.”
She raised her brows in surprise. “Wow. Older than I’d thought.”
“Right? It would have taken someone younger to pull off the abduction. Getting a fourteen-year-old through a window without making a sound?”
“He had to have drugged her, but even with that in mind—”
“Exactly,” Sun said. “It would have taken a lot of strength to get her out of that window and to carry her to a waiting vehicle, which had to be out of range of the St. Aubins’ cameras.”
“True, and look.” Zee pointed. “He’s limping.”
“He could be faking it, but I don’t think so. Look what he does next.”
In the corner of the screen, almost out of camera range, the man tossed the receipt into the trash can.
Zee stood back. “No way. Our one and only lead was planted?”
“Son of a bitch.” Sun wanted to say much worse, but held back. “Anyone could have accessed that trash can. We need the footage of it for the rest of the day, until it was dumped.”
“Even then, they could have gotten it out of the Dumpster out back.”
“Motherfucker,” she said, going for the gold. “Price!”
The bespectacled deputy Lonnie Price appeared at her door instantly.
“Get over to the Quick-Mart. I want the records of every single purchase made in that store for the last two days, starting after this one.” She handed him a copy of the receipt. “And I want all the footage.”
“You got it, Sheriff.”
He left, and Zee sat in the seat across from her. “You okay?”
“We’re being played, I just can’t figure out what’s real and what isn’t.”
“The letter?”
She nodded. “It’s Sybil’s handwriting. I checked it against the diary.”
“Do you think this is all a ploy of some kind?”
Sun sat back and raked her fingers through her hair, dislodging thick locks from her already frayed French braid. “I wish I knew, but we certainly can’t let that doubt taint our investigation.”
Zee stood to walk out.
“Right, sorry,” Sun said, having kept her. “Thanks, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
After a soft laugh, Zee shrugged into her jacket and said, “Oh, I’m not leaving. Well, I am, but I’m going to be right back. Caffeine-Wah. Place your order now, or I’m coming back with an iced caramel almond milk macchiato.”
“Oh, god no.” When Zee grinned at her in question, she said, “Real milk. And make it hot.”
“You got it, Sheriff.”
Under the guise of changing clothes, Auri went to the apartment and, well, changed clothes. But she also snuck onto her mother’s computer and logged on to the sheriff’s database. A place she definitely should not be logged on to.
She ran checks on everyone she knew for certain was in Sybil’s life, including her parents. Well, at this point, pretty much only her parents. Besides a couple of speeding tickets—Mrs. St. Aubin liked to go fast—nothing in the couple’s past would indicate any type of abusive behavior.
That didn’t let either off the hook completely, but it went a long way in helping Auri feel better about their possible involvement in her disappearance.
Before she logged off her mother’s computer, she decided to do one more check. She’d promised Principal Jacobs she wouldn’t try to hack their system again, but she had no intention of trying. She had every intention of succeeding.
“Auri?” Her grandmother opened the front door.
Auri shot out of her mother’s room carrying a sweater. “Found it! Mom is always stealing my stuff,” she said, pulling it over her head as she walked. “Now if I could just find my other boots.”
Elaine exchanged a knowing look with Auri and giggled. “Your mother did the same thing to me. Pizza’s here when you’re hungry.”
“Thanks, Grandma!” she said, dropping to her hands and knees and pretending to search under her bed.
“Don’t be too long. It’ll get cold.”
“Okay.” Poor thing had no idea it was better that way.
The older woman left Auri to her guilt-ridden thoughts—she hated lying, especially to her grandma—and hurried back to her mother’s computer.
“Bingo,” she whispered when she made it in successfully. Her success had nothing to do with the fact that, while she was trying to steal Sybil’s records, she’d accidentally stumbled upon the password. Nothing whatsoever.
Biting her bottom lip, she typed in the name she’d been burning to know more about: Cruz De los Santos. His school records popped up instantly, and his picture . . . a picture that was nothing short of breathtaking. Full, mischievous mouth. Straight, defined nose. Black eyelashes thicker than her mom’s oatmeal. So, really thick.
If they’d had a printer hooked up, she would’ve printed a copy. Because that wasn’t creepy. Or underhanded. Or frowned upon in most states.
His grades were pretty much what she’d expected. Bs and Cs for the most part with a few As sprinkled in for good measure. He was more than smart enough to get straight As. At the same time, he didn’t seem particularly interested in impressing anyone, so why not squeak by?
But she wasn’t looking for his grades. That was none of her business, she told herself after she’d scoured his entire public-school career. She only wanted his address.
She’d tried texting him several times since she’d gotten home, but he’d never answered, and they had a report to do. Or so she told herself to justify her despicable behavior.
She jotted the address down, cleared the search history, and logged off. There was one more component to all this snooping. If her mother just happened to see what times she’d logged on and realized she hadn’t logged on at that particular time, but what were the odds of that?
Thirty minutes and four pieces of pizza later, Auri looked at her grandparents as they watched the news. They were really, really into the news. She swallowed her last bite and said, “So, I have a school project.”
They both gave her their full attention. They were kind of awesome that way.
“And I have to interview another student and do a report.”
“Really? Who?”
“Oh, you don’t know him. His name is Cruz. Cruz De los Santos.”
The couple cast sideways glances at each other as though in cahoots over something. “We know his dad,” her grandma said. “Such a great guy.”
“He’s a mechanic,” Grandpa said, like that explained everything. “Guy could rebuild a Hemi in a hurricane.”
“He certainly sounds talented. So, I was wondering if I could take the car to his house to work on our project.”
They stared at her a minute, then burst out laughing. “And just when
did you get your license?”
“You used to let Mom drive when she was almost fifteen.”
“Sweetheart,” Grandma said, not patronizingly at all, “there is a difference between our letting her take the car and her taking it. Your mother didn’t actually have permission the one time she decided to wreak havoc on society before she actually had a license to do so.”
A wave of shock vibrated through Auri. “My mother broke the law?”
Grandpa chuckled. “Stole that sucker right out from under our noses.”
“Our sleeping noses,” Grandma corrected.
Auri clasped her hands together over her heart. “This is the best thing I’ve ever heard all day.”
They laughed out loud. “Now, don’t go getting us in trouble,” they said, almost simultaneously.
“Never.”
Her grandpa lifted a shaggy brow. “That being said, if you’re game, I can drive you over.”
Her emotions skyrocketed. She jumped up, ready to go. Almost. “Thanks, Grandpa! I’ll get my things and meet you in the car!”
She heard her grandmother say, “I think she’s in a hurry.”
“I meant to tell you,” she said, growing anxious, “I’m not actually sure he’s home. I can’t get ahold of him. We have the rest of the week to do this project, but I wanted to get a jump on it.”
Cruz didn’t exactly throw her a kiss goodbye when they’d parted ways after sixth period. He’d looked at her oddly. Then again, he looked at her oddly all the time. She could never tell what he was thinking.
“No worries, sweetness. It’s not like it’s a long drive.”
He was right there. They found the place in about four minutes, a white house with blue trim.
She drew in a deep breath and got out of the car.
Her grandpa got out as well. “I’ll just make sure it’s okay, then you can call me when you’re ready to come home. I’ll be here in a jiff.”
“Thanks, Grandpa.”
He looked up at the ever-darkening sky. “That storm is going to hit soon, so you might hurry.”
“I will. I’m sorry to do this to you.”
A Bad Day for Sunshine Page 16