I was tempted to let the subject go, but Riley seemed willing to talk and I wanted to know everything about her that she was willing to share. “So is that why you got angry when everyone was laughing in the club that night?”
Her eyes focused briefly on my lips, and I wondered what she was thinking. “Yes. I guess I still don’t like to be laughed at.” She fidgeted with the florescent pink cast on her wrist.
“Tell me what happened with that? Please.”
She hesitated; I thought she was going to refuse before she said, “I saw them talking. One of them said that no man would want me, and that it was probably for the best because I could never get one looking like I do.”
“What else did they say?” I was amazed that my voice didn’t sound as angry as I felt.
“They thought it would be funny to give me the pink cast because I’m not…feminine.” Almost to belie her words, she reached up and delicately brushed back a piece of hair that had blown across her face.
For some reason, this struck me as incredibly feminine. In fact, as strong as Riley was, there was nothing at all masculine about her. I, upon occasion, could be damn manly when I wanted to be. But Riley? No, I didn’t think of her as anything but a woman. I was angry that two strangers who were supposedly there to help her had made her feel bad about herself.
“Riley, I know it’s hard when people say hurtful things like that. But trust me, you are definitely feminine. You would have no trouble getting a man, if you wanted one, that is. Or anyone else.” Shit, so much for my verbal prowess.
“You don’t think so?”
When I saw her smile, I almost forgave the fact that she was making me squirm. “I think you could have mostly anyone you want.”
“Oh.” There was a moment of silence that I would’ve called awkward, but she might have considered companionable. “Hey, Foster, I want to show you something.”
She pulled me off the path and down a small slope that led to another less defined trail. It was only wide enough for us to walk single file, and I took advantage of the opportunity to study her body. Nice ass, nice calves, nice legs, great back, shoulders, and arms, nice everything. I personally was hanging on to what little definition I still had. Thanks to genetics and a rapid metabolism, I had never had to worry about what others thought of me. But Riley, well…she made me very self-conscious.
“Look.”
She pointed and I inhaled as a fine spray of salty water hit me. The path we’d walked down led us to the beach. Unlike the few Southern California beaches I’d visited, there wasn’t much by way of sand here, and the small gray rocks that led right up to the water would make walking barefoot near impossible.
“See those rocks?” Riley pointed with her cast toward several dark boulders that skirted the beach. “I used to fish from up there. You should see it when the water hits the rocks. It makes this huge rainbow.” My grin seemed to bother her, but I was only reacting to her enthusiasm. “Well, I think it’s pretty anyway,” she said, a little less exuberantly.
“It’s beautiful.” I was touched that she’d shared this place with me. “If you like, we can get some rods and fish one day.”
“I’d like that.”
“Riley, I…” I stopped myself because I had no idea what I was going to say. This woman seemed to bring out the worst in me.
I pretended to be distracted as a wave crashed against the rocks. When I turned toward her again, her eyes were already focused on my mouth. She was standing so close I had to tilt my head to look up at her. I closed my eyes and waited for her to kiss me.
“Foster?”
Oh shit. I backed away from her, light-headed with mortification. She hadn’t been about to kiss me at all. The surprise on her face told me all I needed to know. As quickly as I could, I retreated up the path, ignoring the urge to steal a backward glance. I was certain she would still be wearing that look of utter confusion she’d had when I had first opened my eyes.
I thought I heard her call out to me once, but I didn’t bother to turn around. She knew where I would be; after all, I had nowhere else to go. She probably thought I was making a pass at her or something. Which I was, I guess.
I walked faster as I spotted the cabin’s peaked roof. A complete idiot, that’s what I was. Why would anyone want to get involved with me now? I didn’t have anything to offer but a sob story and a mediocre attempt at sex. No, not mediocre. I would have…Oh, shut up, I yelled internally.
I stomped onto the sun-faded burgundy deck and walked around to the double doors leading to the bedroom. Turning the knob, I was disappointed to find it locked. God damn it, why was Riley so damn security-conscious? Who in the hell would break into a cabin in the middle of nowhere? I crossed to the railing Riley and Dani must have put up for safety reasons, and glared out at the ocean. I let the salty air coax one tear from my eye before I scrubbed it away. Feeling sorry for myself was not something I wanted to start again. I had done enough of that after the Canniff incident. It had been a long road back to halfway living, and it wasn’t going to get any easier if I let myself get caught up in hopeless feelings for a woman who obviously didn’t return them.
“Foster?”
“Look, Riley, I’m—” I never finished my sentence. I was pulled into the same warm, comforting embrace that I remembered from last night. Her lips covered mine and gently pressed until, with a sigh, I parted my lips. She tentatively explored my mouth, as I wondered at the taste of chocolate and mint. The kiss deepened. It sure felt like she knew what she was doing. Okay, Foster, you can rule out the straight factor for sure. This woman had to have been kissing women for years, and if she didn’t stop kissing me, I was going to pass out.
Finally, the pressure lightened and she eased her lips from mine. I opened my mouth and a loud gasp escaped. I had forgotten to breathe. I felt the warmth of her fingertips against my chin. My heart started that traitorous pounding again as her eyes locked on my lips.
Someone cleared their throat. I pulled away from Riley and reached for the guns I should have been wearing but wasn’t. I had let myself be lulled into a false sense of safety by her assurance that no one was around. We were being watched by a small, well-built woman leaning against the side of the cabin. Her eyes were hidden behind black sunglasses, her muscular stomach visible under the skimpy T-shirt she wore even on this chilly day. She and Riley must have had the same source of constant heat running through their bodies.
She would be considered pretty in most people’s books, if she seemed more approachable. The motorcycle helmet she carried tucked underneath her arm was as black as the rest of the clothing she wore. The wind plucked at her fair hair. She removed her sunglasses, and I could see that her eyes were blue. She looked faintly amused at having caught us in an awkward position. I glanced at Riley to check her response, just in time to see utter delight spread across her face.
“Dani!” She bounded up on to the deck to sweep the smaller woman into her arms.
Dani, I thought darkly. Things were just starting to get interesting, and who should show up but the infamous Dani, who never stayed here with Riley and who supposedly had no plans to use the place while we needed it. Someone up there had it in for me.
Chapter Thirteen
“What are you doing here, Dani?”
“I wanted to see you, squirt. I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“I know. The last year kicked my butt. I had to double up on some classes so I wouldn’t have to stay another semester.”
I was starting to feel slightly ignored when Riley remembered I was standing there and said, “Dani, there’s someone I want you to meet.”
I could see that Dani was not as enthused as Riley was about the introductions. The feeling is mutual, sister. Still, I held out my hand and waited for her to shake it. For some reason I expected her to give me a death grip, but she didn’t. Her hand was dry and firm.
“Dani, this is Foster. Foster, Dani, my best friend.”
“Nice to me
et you,” I said politely. What I really wanted to do was grill her on exactly how far she and Riley had taken their friendship. I probably wasn’t the only one who had played doctor with my friends as a child. The idea of Riley doing that with this blond dynamo made me feel betrayed.
“N…nice to m…meet you, too.”
I blinked in surprise. Was she cold or something? Her voice was about as deep as Riley’s, if not deeper. Although I was partial to Riley’s particular huskiness, I could see where Dani’s could be considered attractive, too. Sensing some expectation on Riley’s part, I racked my brain for a sociable remark. I refrained from asking her how long Dani would be staying.
“Everything okay, Dani?” Riley asked.
“F…fine.”
There it was again. This woman was either incredibly nervous, or she had a stutter. Not that it mattered, but it was odd that Riley hadn’t mentioned it. Of course, it wasn’t like I’d given her a chance to talk about her friends or family. Everything was all about my troubles and me. I felt guilty that I had never even asked about Dani, or about the mother and brother she’d mentioned in passing.
I was drawn from my reverie when Riley handed me a set of keys and said, “Please give us a few minutes, if you don’t mind, Foster.”
“No problem.” I mumbled something polite to Dani and excused myself. As I closed the doors to the cabin behind me, the wind carried Riley’s voice.
“I know something’s wrong,” I heard her say.
Almost as if to make sure I wouldn’t overhear anything else, a low engine began to hum. It had been so dark when Riley and I had arrived at the cabin that I hadn’t been able to ascertain the origin of the humming noise then. I’d assumed it was a generator or something. Now I realized it was a Jacuzzi. Small tufts of steam seeped up through its brown, weathered cover. Dani had probably turned it on. Had she expected to catch Riley here alone? I peered out to see if I could get a glimpse of the two of them, but they must have moved toward the front of the cabin because they were no longer within view.
With a sigh, I backed away from the glass doors. Feeling the need to keep busy, I made the bed, then folded my sleeping things and set them on the bureau next to Riley’s neatly folded clothing. I noted the small neoprene pouch she used as a wallet sitting on the table by her side of the bed. I had seen her pull money out of it when we had stopped to get snacks and gas. It wouldn’t do for Riley to find me going through her wallet, so instead I treated myself to a thorough inspection of the drawers. I was disappointed. There was barely anything in them. Most people go to cabins to rest. Well, here’s a news flash: this shit is boring. I grew up in the city. The peace and quiet of this place was scaring me. Sure, it was beautiful, but once you’ve seen everything, you’ve seen it.
Disenchanted, I moved on to the wall unit, which housed an all-in-one thirteen-inch TV/DVD set-up similar to the one in Pistol Pete’s motel room. I wondered if I had been formally charged yet, and if they were still looking for me. God, Marcus, I hope like hell you’re not still digging, ’cause if they catch you, you’re screwed, my friend. I ran a hand around the top shelf, seeking a remote to turn on the TV. All I found was a picture that looked as though it had been taken a few years earlier. In it was a younger, smiling Dani, a brunette holding a baby, and a man in a pair of coveralls. I wondered idly if this was a family portrait, but decided it wasn’t. The couple didn’t look like they were quite old enough to be Dani’s parents, although she did resemble the man.
I put the picture back and continued my search. My fingers ran through several dust bunnies before they finally closed on the remote. Shaking the dust away, I found myself thinking about the endless supply of rubber gloves Smitty and I used to keep in our trunk. I missed my partner. The fierce onslaught of guilt made me feel queasy; I’d run away when I should have been searching for the truth about his death and everything else that had happened since the day I let my temper rule me one time too many. Harrison Canniff’s death was on me, and so was anything else driven by my choice to avoid responsibility. How much longer could I keep running away?
I powered the TV on with the remote. I never watched television. The number of shows featuring law enforcement issues was depressing. Who found that kind of thing entertaining, anyway? All I ever wanted to do was escape from it when I got home. Knowing the kind of crap people did to each other made it hard for me to sleep at night. Dealing with those situations was probably the main reason I never really enjoyed my job.
When I was a uniformed cop, I had seen my partner get knocked on the head when he was trying to cuff an abusive husband. The thing is, the wife had called 911 because he’d been kicking her ass for the better part of the day. When we arrived, she already looked like Riverdance had done a performance on her face. I don’t know what she thought we were going to do, but once we had him handcuffed, he started crying, and I guess her protective instincts kicked in. Ignoring the screaming, grubby child that had probably been sitting in his high chair for God knows how long, she started whaling on my partner. I finally had to punch her in the face and handcuff her to get her to stop. On the way in, her husband pleaded his case by pointing out that the only way I could get her to listen to me was to punch her in the face. We took them both down to division and booked them for domestic abuse. She also got charged with assaulting an officer. We were called back to that household two more times before I was promoted to detective.
I stared at the TV, trying to move my train of thought away from my own private reel of cop dramas. For some reason, another case leapt to mind. Just before Smitty died, we’d been chasing up this guy, Michael Stratford, who supposedly had information about a child kidnapping. The case was pretty cold after a year, and we couldn’t track Stratford down. As a last resort, we’d decided to go see if he was laying low at his ex-girlfriend’s dilapidated house.
Alicia Alexander was a skinny white woman with scraggly bleached-blond hair who greeted us at the door with a sheet wrapped around her apparently naked body. She wasn’t happy to see us at first, but when we showed her our badges, she wrenched the door wide open and said, “Come on in.”
Somewhere in the background, a baby was wailing, but she didn’t seem to think anything of it, so I tried not to worry either. I skirted broken toys and a beer bottle as we entered a squalid living room.
“Move, Fee Fee,” Alicia yelled, and a little girl of about four with almond skin and dark curls immediately hopped off the couch with her doll in tow, eyeing us as if we were devils incarnate before settling on the floor to play. “It’s about time y’all got here. Shit, I called yesterday on that punk-ass motherfucker.”
I winced and looked down at the child who was still happily playing with her doll, seemingly not bothered in the least by the language. “Ma’am, who are you talking about? Michael?”
“What you talking about Michael for? If I see him I’m going to bust his ass. He late again with my child support. I heard he got hisself saved by the Lord, and now he too good to come around here.”
I heard Smitty’s impatient grunt. We were both frustrated with our lack of progress. After the kidnapping a year earlier, we’d expected to find the missing boy dead or alive within the week. But there was nothing. Like so many other missing kids, he’d simply vanished. An informant had told us Stratford knew something about the kid. He was the only lead we had.
“Do you know where he is?” Smitty asked. “We can give him a reminder about that child support.”
“He got some new girlfriend that’s a secretary in one of them law firms downtown. I got the name somewhere. He done forgot about his firstborn, ain’t that right, Fee Fee? It’s just me and you, baby. Come give Momma a kiss.”
I watched, vaguely disgusted, as mother and daughter shared a moment obviously orchestrated for me and Smitty. After Alicia found the name of the new girlfriend’s employer, Smitty was about to thank her for her time, but I stopped him, curious about something she’d said.
“If it’s not Michael, who
did you call us about?”
“That punk-ass mo-ther-fuck-er, Popeye Jenkins, stole some shit from me. That’s what I called y’all slow asses for.” She grabbed Fee Fee’s arm. “Now go give PJ his pacifier. I can’t even hear myself think up in here.”
Fee Fee scampered off, and in seconds the howling in the back room ceased. I found myself feeling really sorry for both Alicia’s kids.
“Popeye Jenkins.” I had busted him at least five times when I was a patrol cop. He was about twelve at the time. The charges ranged from petty theft and drug possession to auto theft. Sometime after I was promoted, I heard that he’d started to rise pretty high in the drug-dealing ranks. He then committed the ultimate sin for any businessman, legal or illegal—he started enjoying his product too much.
“What did he steal?”
The scraggly blonde surveyed me and Smitty suspiciously. “Like I told the woman at the 911, I ain’t saying what he took.”
“What do you mean, you can’t say? How are we supposed to get it back for you if we don’t know what it is?” Smitty’s annoyance was showing.
She thought about it for a moment, and I could have sworn I saw a lightbulb go on above her head. “Come on, I got something.” She marched us down a hallway strewn with broken toys and children’s clothes. “Look here,” she said, pointing triumphantly. “Look what that fucker did to my toilet. How about that? I want to press charges about that. Bet he will give me my shit back then, won’t he?”
“Ma’am, are you saying Paul Jenkins…Popeye…broke your toilet?”
“You damn right that’s what I’m saying.” She was so angry that she forgot to hold up her sheet, and her scrawny ass was hanging out.
Maybe Smitty couldn’t see where this was going, but I sure as hell could, and it was damn funny. I was hard-pressed not to laugh that this half-naked woman was trying to convince us to arrest a known junkie for breaking her toilet. Sometimes this job was insane.
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