As he approached, she pinched her eyes closed and pressed two fingers to her temple.
Uh-oh. Had the headache from earlier returned?
He set his tray on the table and reclaimed his chair. “Elly? You okay?”
“I think it’s that brain freeze thing you were talking about.” She blinked a few times. “Wow. That was weird.”
He chuckled. “Told you to take it slow. Onion ring?”
Declining, she took another small sip of her milkshake. “How’s the investigation going?”
He swallowed a bite of burger. “I can’t discuss an ongoing investigation. Suffice it to say, we really need to find Monica.”
“I’ll pray about that.”
Of course she would. “Well, don’t pray too hard. Don’t need you going into a coma or anything.”
She smiled. “Wrong kind of prayer.”
The milkshake seemed to ease some of the fatigue still lining her face. Nothing like an overdose of sugar to give a temporary burst of energy.
Too bad it was very temporary.
He’d better hurry and finish so he could get her home.
Although it was pretty nice having dinner with someone outside of family. Especially someone so easy on the eyes.
Maybe Morgan was right. He needed to get out more.
So why was he only imagining Elly in that scenario?
“So how long have you been a police officer?”
“About nine years.”
“Did you always want to be a detective?”
“Originally, I’d planned a career in the military.” Until padre had died. He’d had no choice but to come home then.
“What changed your mind?”
Was she inside his head or something? “My dad died. My family needed me here. I finished my second tour and got out.”
“That sounds rough.”
“It wasn’t easy, but Jave was the hard one.”
Why was he telling her all this? He never talked about Jave, especially not to someone he just met. He grabbed an onion ring and popped it in his mouth.
“Jave?”
Well, there was no stopping it now. “Javier. My kid brother. He died four years ago.”
“What happened to him?” The genuine concern in her voice prompted him to keep speaking.
“Killed by a rival gang.” At least that was the theory. The killer had never been caught. He swallowed hard, feeling like a whole onion had lodged in his throat. “I didn’t even know he was in a gang until that day.”
But he should have.
Some detective. Maybe if he’d paid more attention to his family, he could’ve done something to stop it from happening.
“I’m so sorry. I can’t image what that must have been like.”
He nodded, taking another bite of burger to give his mouth something to do.
“So that’s why you work with the kids. To keep them from walking the same path as your brother.”
Perceptive. “Maybe you oughta become a detective.”
“I’ll leave that to the professionals.”
He hoped she would. Memories of her playing amateur detective on the rough streets of San Francisco earlier danced through his head.
Okay, enough of all this.
He chomped the last onion ring and gathered up his trash. “Let’s get you home.”
Before he spilled more of his messy past. At the rate he was going, he’d be blabbing about Laura in no time.
As he turned the car toward the bay, he glanced over at her. “So what do you do? Back home, I mean?”
“Do?”
“Yeah. Do you have a job? Hobbies? That sort of thing.”
A pause. It stretched for a second, then two, then five. Was she not going to answer?
Interesting. What was she hiding?
“My land is nothing like yours.” Her voice was softer, but the words carried over the road noise. “We don’t have set jobs. We all just kind of help each other out with whatever. Some days I harvest food, other days I prepare it, other days I make clothing. It really varies.”
No jobs? Did she live with some kind of cult? “How do you pay your bills?”
“We don’t have bills.”
No bills? Maybe he should be checking mental institutions to see if any were missing a purple-eyed redhead because none of what she’d said was based in reality.
“How does that work?”
Again, he felt her studying him. “Like I said, we help each other. I don’t expect this to make sense to you. It’s so different from life here. We live on God’s land and He provides our light and food and everything else we need.”
A commune. That would also explain why he’d found nothing on this land she supposedly came from. It wasn’t a country or even a city, but a compound, probably in the mountains or something. Probably tied to some weird cult that believed they alone heard the voice of God.
Although cults rarely let people interact with outsiders, so what was she doing here?
Maybe she was hunting kids, trying to find people to recruit into the commune for whatever sinister purposes her leader might have.
If the leader was after money, she was in the wrong place. No, there was something else. Child brides, perhaps?
Elly was beautiful. Why wouldn’t he just take her?
Maybe he had. Maybe this leader had multiple brides and she was one of them. Maybe he liked them younger.
He reined in his thoughts. Elly a headhunter? A commune? Child brides? It sounded pretty crazy.
But no more crazy than what she’d told him.
“You’ll want to take the next right.”
Her voice startled him out of his thoughts.
Obviously he wouldn’t solve this mystery tonight. But he would be keeping a very close eye on Eliana Levi until he could figure her out.
“This is good.”
He pulled into the thirty minute unloading zone and shifted into park.
Over her shoulder, floodlights cast shadows on the boats bobbing in the bay.
“Thanks for the ride, Zander.”
He killed the engine. “I’ll walk you.”
Surprise registered in the raised eyebrows. “You don’t need to. I’m sure you’d like to get home.”
“It’ll only take a few minutes. It’s pretty dark out there and I’ll feel better knowing you made it aboard safely. Protect and serve, remember?”
Besides, it’d give him an opportunity to check her story by seeing this boat she claimed to live on.
He opened his door and stepped into the brisk wind whipping up off the bay.
Shoulda brought a jacket. Then again, he’d never foreseen this.
Trailing her, they stopped outside a gate. She punched in a number, then pushed the gate open when it emitted a long buzz.
The bay churned black beneath them and the boards under their feet swayed with the water’s rough movements.
Why had he thought this would be a good idea?
Elly moved with the ease of one used to being on the water. He followed like he’d spent the last four hours at O’Keefe’s pub.
They passed a dozen boats, most of them dark. Only a few more boats before the floating walkway ended.
She stopped by the last boat.
Man, this thing was huge! While he didn’t know much about boats, he had a suspicion one like this wasn’t cheap.
If her people didn’t work and had no bills, how could they afford such a big boat?
Lights glowed from the windows, illuminating the area enough for him to read the name on the boat. Paradise Found.
Not his idea of paradise, but obviously Elly’s. Or someone’s.
“You own this?”
“We all do.”
Would this woman ever cease to surprise him? “You mean like co-owners?”
“Yes. It was given to us by a man who lived in Japan.”
“Why would he give it to you?”
“He died.” She looked out over the expanse of black water
. “He didn’t have any family, but we’d been staying with him for a few months, helping him out and keeping him company as his health declined. We didn’t know he’d left the boat to us until after he passed.”
Wow. Nice gift. The boat didn’t look too old, either.
“Would you like to come aboard?”
He looked up at the hulking vessel. It had been backed into the spot, a flat platform a short distance from where he stood. Easy to board, and yet he really did not want to do it.
But curiosity compelled him. “Sure.”
He followed her as she stepped onto the platform. The boat swayed beneath his feet, the burger and onion rings in his stomach swaying with it.
Ugh. He would not be sick.
Locking his knees, he waited to get the rhythm of the boat before following Elly to a narrow set of stairs a few feet away. At the base of the stairs was a sliding glass door. Blinds covered the doorway, darkness lingering beyond. Wherever that door led, no light came from inside.
He clutched the handrail as he scaled the steep steps. It felt like the smallest nudge would send him backwards.
Going back down these steps would not be fun.
The main deck had a few chairs and a lounger. Light spilled out of the windows of the main cabin directly in front of them.
In it, he saw two men sitting in matching recliners. One man had black hair in dreadlocks, the other had straight dark brown hair that brushed his shoulders. Both turned as she opened the door.
These were her brothers? One looked African while the other looked Middle-Eastern. The three of them couldn’t possibly be related.
The two men came to their feet as he followed her in.
“Hey, guys. This is Detective Zander Salinas from the police department. He’s investigating the murder at the center. Zander, my brothers Zeke and Josiah.”
He braced himself. Now came that awkward evil-eye that brothers were so good at giving other men when their sister was involved. He should know. He’d given it a few times and received it even more often.
“Zander, welcome. So nice to meet you.” Josiah smiled warmly, his teeth shockingly white against his dark skin and dreadlocks. He towered over Zander, his gangly frame probably weighing less than Zander’s, despite the height difference.
Huh. No evil-eye. From either of them.
“Horrible business, that murder.” Zeke shook his head slowly, his brown hair moving around his latte-colored skin. Bushy eyebrows topped warm purple eyes that reflected kindness. “That poor girl.”
More purple eyes? They were darker than Elly’s, but then again, Zeke’s complexion was darker than Elly, too.
Zander shot a glance at Josiah.
Yeah, his eyes were purple. Really dark, but still definitely purple.
Weird.
Zeke looked at him like he was waiting for a response. What had he said? Oh yeah. How horrible Jessie’s murder was.
“Yeah, it’s awful.” He didn’t know what else to say. That she was only one of many who died at the hand of another?
“Please, come in. Have a seat.” Josiah gestured to the recliner he’d just vacated. “Can I get you something to drink? We have unsweetened tea or orange juice. And water, of course.”
What he really wanted was a beer. With a tequila chaser. “I’m not staying long. Just wanted to see what a houseboat was like.”
Or was it a yacht? Having not spent much time around the water, he really didn’t know the difference.
“Would you like a tour?” Josiah gestured to a closed door in the corner of the room. “I’d be happy to show you below deck.”
In spite of the water rocking the boat, he felt himself relaxing. “Cool. Thanks.”
Josiah’s grin spread as though overjoyed to be showing a guest around. Did they have many visitors? Probably not. How many people could they have met in such a short period of time?
With a flourish, Josiah opened the door and turned on a light switch. Ample light flooded the stairwell.
He followed Josiah down a narrow staircase that dropped them in the middle of a kitchen, which was larger than he’d expected. A sitting area occupied the far end, with a sliding glass door built into the wall.
Must’ve been the one he saw from the outside.
“You lived in San Francisco long?” Josiah asked as he stepped off the bottom step onto the vinyl flooring.
“Born and raised.” Military years aside, he’d always lived in the city.
“You must like it.” His voice carried the same lilt and faint accent that Elly’s did.
He shrugged. “I guess. It’s not so much that I like it, but this is where family is.”
“Family’s important.” Josiah led him across the kitchen and into a short hallway. Six doors, two on either side and two straight ahead, stood open. “I’m blessed to have at least some of my family with me.”
Well, since he’d opened the door. “I’d never guess you guys were related.”
Josiah clapped him on the back and laughed, a deep sound that filled the hallway. “That a nice way of saying we look nothing alike?”
“Something like that.”
“Not all family connections are forged through blood. We’re all children of God and have chosen to be siblings.”
Okay then. He shouldn’t have asked.
Josiah gestured to the first room. “My room. Zeke and Elly are the two at the end of the hall. Across from us is a spare room that we leave open in case God calls us to give someone a warm bed.”
Of course. If these guys were anything like Elly, they’d probably bring someone in with no thought that the person could be a killer or thief.
A glance in the bedrooms found them nearly identical, with little room to move around. What appeared to be a queen sized bed built against one wall, a three drawer dresser against another wall, and a small closet built into another wall. An armless chair sat in the far corner of each room, upholstered in a blue and cream striped fabric.
The only difference was that the two at the end, Zeke and Elly’s rooms, had sliding glass doors that opened onto a deck similar to the one he’d used to board.
Between the rooms on either side was a microscopic bathroom barely large enough to fit a toilet, sink, and standing shower.
Odd that there were few personal touches.
He would’ve expected to find some, especially in Elly’s room. Weren’t women supposed to decorate or have pictures or something?
Speaking of Elly…
Maybe he should mention what had happened earlier. If Josiah was her sort-of brother, wouldn’t he want to know?
He leaned against the doorjamb of Elly’s room and weighed Josiah. “So there was an incident at the center earlier. Elly got a killer headache and could barely walk.”
“After praying?”
He nodded.
Josiah shrugged. “It happens. God takes care of her so it’s not really something to be worried about.”
How could everyone be so casual about this? What if it had happened in the dark in the worst part of town? “Still, might not be a bad idea for her to see a doctor, don’t you think?”
“A doctor won’t help this. Trust me. She’s fine.”
Whatever. Not like it was any of his business anyway.
He just didn’t want to be called to investigate her murder when it happened at the wrong place and time.
Straightening, he glanced at his watch. “I should be going. Thanks for the tour.”
For a few minutes, he’d even forgotten he was on a boat. The size of the vessel minimized the rocking motion.
“It was nice to meet you. If you ever need anything, know that you’re welcome here any time.”
He wasn’t sure what he’d need from them, but the words carried an implied deeper meaning that he couldn’t quite grasp. “Thanks.”
Five minutes later he was in his car, heading back into the heart of the city.
It was late. He should go home. Get a good night’s sleep for once.<
br />
But he needed a drink.
O’Keefe’s was close to his place and wouldn’t take long. He could have a drink, then head home before it got too much later.
Yeah. Just one, maybe two drinks and he’d leave.
₪ ₪ ₪
Monica heaved, but nothing came up. Then again, it was hard to throw up when your stomach was completely empty.
Trembling shook her hands. She needed food. If not for her sake, then for the baby.
The youth center flashed into her mind. It wasn’t far. She could make it. They’d feed her, give her a safe place to sleep.
But Jessie hadn’t been safe there.
If he’d gotten to Jessie, he could get to her.
A shiver rocked her body. The damp air carried a chill that seeped through her skin.
Crawling to the loose board in the rickety gazebo, she pulled it up and jerked out the blanket. She didn’t bother to replace the board, but scooted back against the railing and wrapped the blanket tightly around her.
Moonlight filtered through the holes where boards were missing above her head. She hugged her knees to her chest. Already she could feel the bulge from the baby. And she was only a few months along.
Something white caught her eye.
Just a glimpse, under the floorboards, pushed back so that it was nearly impossible to see.
It had to be something of Jessie’s.
She crawled toward it.
Ugh. She didn’t want to put her hands down there. What if there were spiders or rats or something?
But it could be something that would help her. She reached in, her fingers brushing dirt and rocks.
And cardboard.
She tried to curl her fingers around the item, but it was too big.
Leaning closer, she thrust her other hand under the boards and used both hands to pull the item toward her.
The box was about the size of a shoebox.
Maybe it contained money. Or food. She’d be happy with either option.
She slid the lid off.
Not money or food. A rectangular object, wrapped in clear plastic, filled with a white powder.
Drugs.
Not just one pack of drugs, but two.
That didn’t make sense.
Unlike so many of the women in her profession, Jessie didn’t do drugs. She hated them. Why would she have a box of drugs hidden here?
Silent is the Grave Page 6