Silent is the Grave

by Candle Sutton

  Her tight, shimmery dress plunged low at the neck and slit high up the leg. The skirt was much shorter than anything his sisters would wear and made her appear to be all legs.

  Shapely ones at that.

  “Ja–Jave?” A tremor shook the word and jolted him from his examination.

  Naturally she’d jump to that conclusion. He and Jave had looked a lot alike.

  He shook his head as he approached. “Zander. Jave was my brother.”

  As he drew closer, he noticed that her dark hair had deep red streaks in it. Glittery makeup caked her eyes, which were framed by lashes too long to be natural. Bright lipstick painted plump lips that probably turned down in a good pout when she wanted something.

  Yeah, she was the kind of chick Jave would’ve gone for.

  The little girl peered around those shapely legs. She had her mother’s high cheekbones and pointed chin but the nose and mouth were different.

  He smiled at her, earning a shy smile in return.

  Huh. When she smiled, she looked a lot like his niece Marisol.

  The woman smoothed her hair behind her ears. “I’m sorry. Of course. I mean, Jave’s…” Her hand made a subtle sweeping motion toward the grave by her feet.

  His smile faded. “Yeah.”

  Her fingers laced with her daughter’s small hand. “We’ll get out of your way.”

  Sadness hung on her like the musky perfume assailing his senses. This woman had known Jave. And cared enough to visit his grave on the anniversary of his death. How many people did that?

  As the two moved to pass him, he put out his hand. “Wait. How did you know my brother?”

  “We were…” She pulled in a breath, her eyes flicking down to her daughter briefly. “Friends.”

  Friends.

  His gaze slid down to the girl. Was this woman filtering her response because the child was there or because…?

  His eyes narrowed on the child. Probably a few years old. She was a little smaller than his five year old niece, which would make her maybe three or four.

  Jave died four years ago.

  Could this be…?

  No. Jave would’ve told them if he’d fathered a child. Madre especially. But he’d never mentioned it.

  He held the woman’s eyes with his own. “Good friends?”

  A flush colored her cheeks but she lifted her chin. “I’m afraid we need to go.”

  The words were spoken with the air of someone used to commanding respect.

  Jave would’ve been drawn to her strength. He’d never been one for soft and meek women.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry, but…” He spread his hands. “I really didn’t know any of Jave’s friends.”

  Probably because most of them were gang members and he was a cop. How had things gotten so mixed up?

  She said nothing, studying him in the guarded manner of someone with something to hide. The look mirrored ones he’d seen countless times over his career.

  “I’ve been trying to solve…” His gaze dropped to the girl. No telling how much she understood but he’d temper it, just in case. “Trying to figure out what happened. Talking to people who knew him would help, but I’ve had trouble finding anyone.”

  “I’ve talked to his friends. They all say they don’t know anything.”

  “Maybe they’d tell me.” He pulled out his badge. “I’m a detective for the SFPD.”

  She stared at the badge for a second past uncomfortable.

  Had he made a mistake? Maybe he should’ve just played the role of the grieving brother and left the cop at home.

  “They don’t know anything. They would’ve told me.”

  Sure they would have. If his suspicions about this woman and her daughter were right, then maybe they’d said that to spare her more pain.

  But would gang members be that sensitive?

  Maybe.

  Another thought crowded it. Yeah, they might be sensitive, especially if this woman had gang ties. Maybe Jave had met her through one of his gang member buddies. She could be someone’s sister. For that matter, she could be in a gang herself.

  He’d win no points by asking, though.

  “Do you have any idea what happened? Or why?”

  “I don’t know anything.”

  No. She couldn’t shut down. Not now. She was the only person he’d found outside of family that seemed to care that Jave was gone. “You cared for him, didn’t you? You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

  Her gaze strayed to the simple headstone. “I loved him.”

  Her eyes widened momentarily, landing on his face before darting away.

  So she hadn’t meant to tell him that. Why would she hide it?

  “We need to go.”

  He couldn’t force her to stay. Not on a cold case that wasn’t even his.

  Instead he pulled out a card. “If you think of anything or want to compare notes, give me a call. Maybe together we could finally get some closure.”

  A single nod. She plucked the card from his fingers and slid it into her pocket before brushing by him, her daughter’s hand held tightly in her own.

  The child looked back at him as the woman whisked her away.

  It wasn’t until they disappeared over the rise that he resumed his course toward the grave.

  He knelt, brushing a few leaves off the grave marker.

  Javier Salinas. The date of birth and death were engraved in his mind as clearly as they were in the stone. Twenty five years old.

  Sure, Jave’d lasted longer than many of his gang buddies, but he’d still had a lot of life ahead of him.

  Or should have.

  But an encounter with a knife had changed all that.

  And now he’d met Jave’s girlfriend… whose name he’d failed to get! He whipped around, but she wasn’t in sight.

  Naturally. What had he expected? That she’d run back and introduce herself?

  What an idiot! What kind of detective failed to get a potential witness’ name?

  Well, it was too late now. Maybe she’d call him.

  Unlikely. If she was embroiled in the gang life, she’d avoid him like he was contagious.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  “You shouldn’t be here, bro.”

  Zander tossed back another shot before sliding a gaze toward Rafe. “Funny, coming from you.”

  “You’re better’n me.” Rafe accepted a foaming mug from the bartender and leaned his elbow on the counter so he could survey the crowded bar.

  Zander shoved aside several empty shot glasses and signaled for another.

  “Come on, man. Don’t you think you oughta be with your fam?”

  “Been there. Why do you think I’m here?” The dinner with Madre and his sisters had been torturous. But it was the meeting in the graveyard that really weighed on him now.

  Had he met his niece? Let her walk away without even learning her name?

  Until he could process and sort that mess out, he wasn’t going to tell anyone. Not about the meeting in the graveyard, the woman and her child, or the potential connection to his family.

  “Sure it ain’t that bad.” Rafe grinned and nodded at a curvy Latina a few tables away.

  “You wanna live it? They ask every year if there are any new leads. If I’ve found the killer.” He palmed the freshly poured shot glass. “Gets worse every year.”

  He was a failure.

  The single most important case in his life and he couldn’t close it. He wasn’t just failing himself, he was failing his entire family.

  “Bro, that wasn’t your case. You weren’t even a detective then.”

  Didn’t matter. He should still be able to make some headway on it. Maybe if he spent more time working on it after hours, he’d find a breakthrough.

  He was done talking about this.

  “What’s the word on the street about the Hector Gutierrez murder?”

  Rafe took a swig of his beer. “Surprisingly quiet.”

  He studied his friend. “Yo
u holding out on me?”

  It’d be the first time he knew about in the five years since Rafe had been quietly feeding him street intel. If there was any upside to having a childhood friend who toed the line of the law, it was the easy access to what was going on.

  “I’m a little surprised myself, bro. Hector was a big deal.” Rafe tossed his long-ish black hair like he thought he was some kind of supermodel and shot a slow grin to the Latina again, who turned to her friends and giggled.

  Yeah, Rafe could charm like no one else. “So why wouldn’t the Almas be screaming for blood?”

  “Don’t really know.” Rafe was silent for a second. “You ask me, the killing was in-house.”

  The Almas killing one of their own? “Why would they do that?”

  “Why do they do anything? Maybe he crossed the boss or something.”

  That would do it.

  The Alma Negra boss was a mystery. No matter how many Almas they incarcerated, none of them would give up the boss’ name, much less his location.

  “Don’t suppose you’ve heard anything on that kid that was killed at the center?”

  “Nah. Hate to say it, bro, but no one cares.”

  That was half the problem. No one seemed to care what happened to any of those kids. No one but Betty and Bill, Elly, him, and the other people who volunteered at the center.

  He threw back another shot.

  A buzz started in his mind.

  Good.

  He needed it. Especially on the anniversary.

  At least Elly’s voice wasn’t haunting him tonight.

  He ordered another round.

  Rafe’s large hand landed on his shoulder. “Howsabout I get you home, huh? You gotta be clear in the morning.”

  He shrugged off Rafe’s hand. “I’ll be fine.”

  Maybe a little fuzzier than usual, but he’d manage. He always did.

  Rafe shrugged. “Suit yourself. In that case…”

  He snagged a shot from the bar in front of Zander and raised it in a toast. “To Javier.”

  “To Jave.” His echo wobbled, but not nearly as much as the shot as he lifted it to his mouth.

  Rafe signaled the bartender for more.

  Yeah, his buddy might try to talk him out of a night of drinking, but at his core, Rafe was all about the party. Some things never changed.

  Zander swirled the tequila… or was it vodka… in the shot glass in front of him, trying to remember which he’d ordered tonight. That the two tasted vastly different filtered through his head, but he couldn’t remember the flavor of the shot he’d just had.

  Didn’t matter. Either would do the trick.

  He tossed it back.

  “Whoa.” Rafe’s voice came low from beside him.

  Knowing Rafe, he’d probably just spotted the chick he’d take home with him tonight. Zander kept his gaze on the one remaining shot in front of him.

  “That is one hot chica.”

  Yep, Rafe was nothing if not predictable.

  The back of Rafe’s hand smacked his shoulder. “Don’t look now, bro, but I think she’s got her sights set on you.”

  What?

  He jerked around, smacking into the bar and almost knocking himself off his stool. Red curls swirled into focus.

  Unbelievable.

  Weaving her way around the tables, Elly looked about as out of place in the dimly lit room as he would in his Madre’s church. A long skirt swished around her legs and her yellow shirt practically glowed in the bar’s amber lights.

  What the heck was she doing here? “I don’t believe…”

  “You know her?” Rafe slid a glance at him, eyebrows raised.

  “Yeah, I know her.” He shifted on the stool, trying to hide the empty glasses behind his body.

  “Not too shabby, bro.” Rafe lightly socked his arm. “And here I thought you weren’t seein’ anyone.”

  “I’m not.”

  He tried to muster up a smile as Elly approached, but couldn’t get his face muscles to cooperate.

  “Hi Zander.”

  “What’re you doin’ here?” Real smooth.

  Rafe’s wide eyes told him how stupid he looked.

  Still, he couldn’t seem to make any other thoughts come to his mind.

  “I heard you could use a friend.” She shifted her smile to Rafe. “Although it looks like you already have someone watching out for you tonight.”

  “Rafe.” Rafe extended his hand, his smile set to full-charm mode. If Elly was anything like any other girl, she’d forget Zander existed right about now.

  Which might not be a bad thing.

  “Elly. Zander’s lucky to have a friend like you.”

  How did she do that? See a situation and immediately size it up?

  Rafe laughed. “I don’t know about that. I got him into a lot of trouble when we were growing up.”

  “But you stuck by him through the hard times, too. That counts for a lot.”

  Rafe’s smile shifted from charm to slightly puzzled. “He tell you about me or something?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I can tell. I see it.”

  Okay, time to detour this before she started all her God talk again. “You came here looking for me?”

  Peace radiated from her. “Naturally.”

  “But how…?” Bad question. He shook his head. “Never mind. Why?”

  Rafe rose from his barstool. “Here, you can take my seat. I see someone I need to talk to. Nice meeting you, Elly.”

  “You, too.”

  Rafe circled behind Elly and winked at Zander, a broad grin covering his face.

  Yeah, things wouldn’t go the way Rafe thought they would. Not with Elly.

  Elly eased onto the barstool. Her gaze flitted over the empty glasses on the bar before returning to him. “I’m here because God sent me.”

  Well, no hiding the truth from her now.

  He threw back the only full shot, bringing the glass back to the counter with more force than intended. “Well, you can tell the Big Man that I’m doin’ just fine.”

  The words sounded a little slurred, even to his own ears.

  Yeah. He was doing great.

  “He also said that today was a particularly hard day. Do you want to talk about it?”

  Who was she kidding?

  “Not really.” He signaled the bartender and ordered a beer, while some elusive thought nagged at him.

  Wasn’t there something about Elly that had concerned him?

  The bartender plopped the beer in front of him and asked Elly what she wanted. Lemon water. Go figure.

  He took a swig of the beer, trying to nail down the thought.

  Think, think… the previous day flickered into his head like a TV with faulty wiring. “How’s the leg? You look like you’re doin’ okay.”

  She smiled. “I’m mending, thanks.”

  “How long did it take this time?” Now that he thought about it, she was only half-sitting on the stool, favoring the injured side.

  She paused, the smile slipping a little. “It’s not important.”

  Meaning he wouldn’t like the answer. “No, I wanna know.”

  “It took most of the day before I could move. My leg is still swollen and tender, but I think it’ll be fine tomorrow.”

  She probably wouldn’t tell him if it wasn’t.

  His fault. Another failure for which someone else had paid.

  “Zander. This is not on you.”

  The firm tone did nothing to convince him, even though he nodded.

  He gulped the beer in front of him, but it couldn’t quiet the accusations.

  Why did his mistakes always hurt the people around him?

  Draining the mug, he tried to catch the bartender’s eye.

  Light pressure on his hand made him look down. Elly’s pale hand rested on his. He looked up to find her leaning in. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

  No condemnation lined the words. Just concern.

  The bar’s loud mu
sic faded into the background. Rafe was right. Whoa was a good word to describe the presence that she exuded.

  She was close enough to kiss. Rafe would go for it.

  Still, he hesitated.

  Maybe because of Laura. Or maybe it was something else altogether.

  “Is the alcohol solving your problems?” She shifted her hand to the glass and gently pulled it away.

  No.

  The answer rang in his head, even as he fought it.

  The alcohol might not be solving anything, but it sure as heck numbed the pain.

  He looked at the empty glass. Or was it two glasses? He blinked to clear his vision. Just one mug but lots of empty shots.

  Yeah, maybe he had consumed enough. For tonight anyway.

  “It’s been a hard day, but I bet things will look better in the morning.”

  Doubtful. Jave would still be dead tomorrow. “Jave died four years ago today.”

  So much for not talking about it.

  There was something about Elly that just made him want to spill his guts. Not a good thing for a cop who had to keep things close.

  “Oh Zander. I’m so sorry.” Her eyes shimmered and a single tear trailed down her cheek. “I can’t imagine how hard this day must be for you.”

  He clenched his jaw as pressure built in his own eyes.

  “I understand why you’re here but does all this,” she gestured to the chaotic, laughing crowd around them, “really help?”

  No. No, it didn’t.

  But he wouldn’t admit it. Not to her or anyone else.

  Maybe going home wasn’t such a bad idea.

  He signaled the bartender and asked for the check, handing over his credit card without looking at the total. Really, he didn’t want to know anyway.

  The world tilted as he rose.

  Whoa.

  Earthquake?

  He shook his head. The room settled.

  Nope. Just too much to drink.

  Okay, maybe he’d gone a bit overboard tonight. Good thing he was walking and that it wasn’t far.

  He took a wobbly step forward, vaguely aware of Elly’s grip on his arm.

  The next step was slightly steadier.

  Good thing, too. With her injury, he should be supporting her weight, not the other way around.

  He pushed through the doors, holding them while she exited behind him.

  The cold wind whipping off the bay smacked him, jolting a bit of the fuzziness from his thoughts. While his steps were still a little shaky, they were better than they had been before.