“Aw, shit. I can’t believe it. I’ve never done anything like that before. How long was I out?”
“A while. Long enough to stuff you in the car and drive you here. You’re lucky Scruggsville is a small town. The only other person in urgent care just needed a couple stitches. Got bit by squirrel. I suppose it’s better than being cursed by one.”
Rivera reached for a bottle of water sitting on the bedside table. Then something snapped in her mind and she suddenly bolted upright like she’d been zapped with a defibrillator.
“Rylee!” she gasped. “We need to find Rylee!”
“The officers are on it,” I said, holding her hand. “Just take a breath for a minute. We’ll get back out there as soon as you’re ready.”
“I’m ready now.”
“Hey . . . Rivera . . . give it a minute, okay?”
She wasn’t listening. She was starting to get out of bed.
“Elena!”
That got her attention.
“Look—you’re obviously exhausted. You didn’t sleep for shit last night. You haven’t eaten anything but garbage since we left DC, and we’re both under crazy pressure. It’s no wonder you passed out.”
Her eyes shifted away from me as she slid off the bed and reached beneath a nearby chair for her boots.
“I’m not hanging around in here a minute longer,” she said, zipping them up. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“The nurse said she wanted to keep an eye on you.”
Rivera rolled her eyes.
“She doesn’t need to. I can keep an eye on myself.”
Unbelievable. It was like dealing with a teenager. Time to act like the professional adult . . . again.
“Elena. Stop!” I said in what I call my ‘dad’ voice. It was the ‘I’m done with your bullshit’ voice. Surprisingly, it worked. Rivera sat still and gave me her undivided attention.
“Just chill for a minute and hear me out. You’re no use to the team if you’re unconscious. And you won’t find any of these kids if you’re only running on fumes. You need to look after yourself. You don’t have to set yourself on fire to keep other people warm. Know what I’m saying?”
She paused for a second, gazing at her feet, then gave a reluctant nod.
“I guess I could take a break for a little while. My head’s still fuzzy anyway.”
“Exactly. The officers are finger combing the woods right now. They’ve got half the town searching for her . . . even Tempie the lab is out there sniffing for clues. I know how bad you wanna be out there looking for her—I feel the same way. But we don’t know the lay of the land compared to the locals who’ve lived here their whole lives.”
“Okay, okay . . . ” She put her hands up in surrender and I relaxed. This was good. We were making progress.
“Wanna get something to eat? You need to get your energy up.”
“Sure,” she said. “Food sounds good.”
Standing up, she slung her jacket over her shoulders and ran a hand through her hair, pulling out a few blades of grass.
“Thanks for being here, I guess,” she said.
“Of course, Rivera. We’re partners.”
She gave me a weak smile and jammed her hands into her pockets.
“You don’t have to keep calling me Rivera.”
“So what do I call you? Azrael? Raven?” Her eyes flashed, and I took a step backwards in case she decided to pull an officer Davis with my junk. Wearing a cup might not be the worst idea with her for a partner.
But then her expression softened, and she actually grinned.
“Good one, Brad,” she teased back. “But I prefer Elena, if you wanna call me that instead.”
“Does that mean we’re friends now . . . Elena?”
“It means you’re on trial . . . Logan,” she smiled, grabbing her phone and the bottled water off the bedside table before we headed out the door. “I mean . . . I suppose if we have to be stuck out here together we should at least be on first-name terms.”
Finding ourselves back at the diner on the edge of Yarbrough, in the same booth with the same waitress, we both looked out at the gray clouds as rain lashed the cars in the parking lot. I genuinely felt bad about Rylee and all the folks out in that crappy weather looking for her. But I knew I had to take care of my partner.
It had been a challenge to find something I thought was acceptable for her to eat. I was thinking something along the lines of a protein, a complex carb, and some fruit or vegetables. She was thinking something along the lines of a strawberry shake and a full basket of French fries.
“Could you at least get a side salad?” I asked when our waitress took our order. Elena looked at me like I was an idiot. I mean, she usually looked at me like I was an idiot, but this was different. Maybe she thought I was a full-fledged moron.
“Potatoes are a vegetable.”
All I could do was sigh in defeat.
“We use fresh strawberries in our shakes,” the waitress added with a wink. “That’s what makes them taste so good.”
I gave her an appreciative nod and returned my attention to the gloomy gray sky outside.
“I hope the next case we’re on is somewhere sunny, like Arizona,” I said. Elena’s nose wrinkled in disgust.
“Ugh. I hate the sun.”
“Of course you do,” I laughed under my breath. “You hate most things.”
“That’s not true. I like the rain. And I like trees.”
“I noticed. What was all that earlier about the ash tree? You made it sound like there was something significant about the specific kind of tree.”
“It was nothing,” she said, trying to throw me off the trail I was on. “I just like trees.”
“Then why did you ask Rylee’s parents what kind of tree it was?”
Our waitress returned with our order, and I waited until she left before trying to get Elena to open up more.
“C’mon . . . why’d you ask them about the ash tree? I think there’s more to it that you’re not saying.”
Ignoring me, Elena dug into her purse and pulled out the personal silverware kit I’d seen her use before. I guess she wasn’t kidding about that metal allergy. There was even a plastic straw tucked in with the plastic fork, spoon, and knife. Then, to my horror, she reached for the jar of honey she’d requested earlier, and began squeezing a steady stream of it into the puddle of ketchup on her plate.
“Um . . . What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m eating. So what if I like to dip my fries in ketchup and honey?”
“That is . . . That is disgusting.”
She laughed and dunked a couple of thick fries into the puddle, creating a red, sticky sauce. Then she crammed them into her mouth before dunking another fry, reaching across the table, and gleefully shoving it in my face.
“Try it,” she said.
“No! Get it the hell away from me.”
“Aw, stop being a little bitch and just eat it.”
“What’s up with all the peer pressure? I said I don’t want it.”
I tried to swat her away like a fly, but she was fast and nimble with her hands. I was so distracted by the French fry in my face that I didn’t even think about the burger on my plate. By the time I realized my mistake, she’d taken off the top bun, dipped it in the sauce, and slapped it back on the burger.
“There,” she said with a defiant grin as she set it down next to my side salad. “I fixed it.”
“Gross! You asshole!”
I took off the top bun and reached for a napkin, wiping off as much of the sauce as I could from the burger. Then, either to spite Elena or to find out if I was really missing out on some culinary gem, I took a bite and chewed in silence. She seemed absolutely delighted.
“Well? Isn’t it better?”
I wiped my mouth with a new napkin and frowned.
“No. It tastes like a preschooler’s interpretation of barbecue sauce. Why would you do that to my food, you evil demon spawn?”
“I was just trying to open your eyes to other possibilities,” she said loftily. “Obviously you don’t have the same sophisticated palate as me.”
“Says the chick whose veins are full of Mountain Dew.”
“Oh, you think coffee is so much better?”
“Yeah. You know why?” I challenged. “Because it’s only made of two things; coffee beans and water. Do you even read the ingredient labels on your food?”
Elena rolled her eyes. “You’re such a snob.”
“I’m not a snob,” I retorted. “I just have standards.”
She continued to eat her fries in her sacrilegious manner and I did my best to ignore her. But I was glad to see the color back in her cheeks.
“You’re doing it again,” she said with a crunch.
“Doing what?”
“Staring at me.”
“No, I’m not.”
She shot me a deadpan gaze like she could see into my head.
“Fine,” I said. “It’s your eyes. I’ve never seen anyone with such bright green eyes before.”
“Yours are a crazy shade of bright blue, but I don’t stare at you.”
I couldn’t help smirking.
“That’s because you have standards.”
Popping the last fry into her mouth, she patted her full stomach and leaned back in her seat.
“Thanks for bringing me here. I needed that,” she said, licking salt off her fingers. “I was hungrier than I realized.”
“It’s good to see you with an appetite. You had me worried back there.”
“You were worried?”
“Yeah, you went all pale and wobbly and you had this thousand-yard stare. Then you just hit the deck.” I took a long drink of my water in hopes of getting the taste of honey out of my mouth. “I don’t know your medical history or whatever health issues you might have. A partner ought to know some of those things if they’re relevant.”
“It was nothing. I just fainted.”
“Hmm . . . That’s not right. You probably should have stayed at the hospital to get checked out. What if you have diabetes? With the way you eat, I’d be surprised if you don’t.”
She brushed it off with a confident grin, but I was only half-joking.
“Like you said, I was probably just sleep-deprived and hungry. I’m fine now.”
I couldn’t help but be skeptical. The look she gave me right before she fainted wasn’t going to be forgotten anytime soon. There was a look of real terror on her face. One that seemed at odds with her usual strength and feistiness.
“You wanna talk about it?” I asked her.
“Talk about what?”
“What happened.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she laughed, but I could tell she was lying.
“Cut the crap, Rivera. I mean, Elena. The look on your face back there was scared as hell. I want to know what you saw.”
She pursed her lips and picked a napkin off the table, which she started to fiddle with, tearing it to shreds. With a tell like that, she better never try playing poker. It was obvious that I was onto something.
“If we’re going to work together, we have to be honest with each other,” I said.
“I am honest with you.”
“Then tell me what happened back at the trail. What did you see right before you passed out?”
“It was nothing. It was just . . . ”
She lurched forward in her seat ever so slightly, as though she’d been nudged in the back. Then she did it again, this time more violently as she clamped a hand to her mouth.
“Whoa, you okay?”
Her nodding head said yes, but the rest of her body was saying no. She jumped out her seat and hauled ass towards the bathroom. A second later I heard the clatter of a toilet stall door being slammed open and the sound of her retching into the toilet. The only other person in the place, our waitress, made a beeline for me, looking worried.
“It wasn’t the food, was it?”
“I doubt it. Mind if I go into the ladies’ and see if she’s alright?”
She shrugged.
“There’s no one else here to give a damn,” she mumbled before tidying up the sugar packets at the next booth over.
There were some things you just didn’t do. You didn’t date your cousins, you didn’t take a rawhide away from a dog, and you didn’t look in the top drawer beside your parent’s bed. You also never dunked French fries in honey. But you also never, and I mean never, ever, went into a girls’ bathroom. For a guy, the inner sanctum of the ladies’ restroom was a sacred space that we entered at our peril. It was a mystical place where girls entered in pairs and came out transformed . . . laughing at private jokes and wearing a fresh layer of makeup.
I had never entered the women’s bathroom before, and as I pushed the door open, I had no idea what to expect. I was almost disappointed then when I realized it looked exactly like the men’s room minus the urinals.
From the first stall, I heard Elena still puking her guts out. Approaching her from behind, I saw her lustrous mass of hot pink hair spread out across the toilet bowl. Bending down to scoop it up, I pulled it into a makeshift ponytail.
“How ya doing, champ?”
She replied with a couple of dry heaves. Luckily, I’d missed the worst of it. As she pulled her head up from the toilet and flushed the last of her dinner, I saw her face was a mess. Tears had smeared her mascara from the corners of her eyes to the outsides of her cheeks.
“Thanks for holding my hair,” she whispered as I let it fall through my fingers. It was softer than I was expecting. “No one’s had to do that for me since college.”
“I don’t think I’ve done that since college, either. What happened?”
Elena gave the saddest, most pathetic shrug.
“I’m not sure. It’s like my stomach spontaneously decided to turn itself inside out.”
“It sure sounded like it. Come on. Let’s get you back to urgent care. You’re obviously not okay.” I motioned for her to come out of the stall and join me at the sink. Her hair might’ve been soft and pretty, but it had just been draped over a toilet full of puke. I lathered up and washed my hands. I looked down at her when she stepped beside me and reached for the soap. It almost felt like a little dance in that small bathroom, us trying to share a sink.
“Really . . . I’m fine. Just give me a minute.”
She hurried to wash her hands, then returned to the stall for some toilet paper to wipe the mascara off her face.
“You know it was the ketchup and honey, right?” I joked.
“Shut up.”
“Then what was it?”
“Nothing! I’m fine!”
“For fuck’s sake, Elena—why can’t you admit that you’re not okay? It’s not a sign of weakness to ask for help.”
She turned away from me and huffed. I wanted to lean over and pat her on the shoulder, but honestly, I was afraid she might try to claw my eyes out. Instead, I kept an eye on her, all the while wondering what might be the problem. I only had one other idea.
“Shit, you’re not pregnant, are you?”
She looked at me as though I’d just taken a shit on the floor in front of her.
“Pregnant?” she screeched. “Not fucking likely!”
“Alright, alright! I was only asking. Geez.”
I remained quiet for a minute and tried to think what else it could be.
“Are you sure you’re not pregnant?” I asked her.
“Yes!”
“But . . . ”
“I’m not fucking pregnant!”
She threw her hands over her face and grumbled.
“But you know what’s up, don’t you?” I said more than asked. She said nothing, just continued to hide her face behind her handful of balled up toilet tissue.
“Elena . . . I can tell you’re hiding something. I know you think I’m just some idiot football jock, but I’m smarter than I look. Not sure if Chief Harris told you, but I’m actually a hig
hly trained FBI agent. And I know when people are lying.”
Still, she refused to reveal her face. Leaning over, I gently held her wrist and removed her hand from her face. It was dripping in fresh tears. Her green eyes weren’t fiery with anger. Now they held an emotion I’d never seen in her before.
She was scared.
“Please, Elena, will you tell me what’s going on? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”
“Fine,” she said, tossing the tissue into the trash can. “I’ll tell you. But not here.”
12
Elena
“Solana,” I whispered, pulling my arms tight around my body. Although it was summer, and as much as I liked the rain, I was cold. The kind of cold that chilled you from the inside out. “Solana was the one who . . . ”
Holy fuck. This was harder than I thought it was going to be. I gave up trying to explain and looked out the window instead. After cleaning myself up in the bathroom, Logan had paid the bill and cranked up the heat in the Navigator so it would be warm when I got in. That was sweet of him. He didn’t have to do that.
Now he was sitting there patiently in the driver’s seat, waiting as long as it was gonna take me to finish what I had to say.
“Solana,” he repeated. Hearing that name made me want to puke again, but there wasn’t anything left. “That was the woman who Rylee’s parents mentioned.”
“Yep.”
“I’m going to go out on a limb here and suggest this Solana person has something to do with whatever you’re about to tell me.”
“I know her.” I nodded ever so slightly and squeezed my eyes shut. “She’s the one who . . . who . . . ”
Why the hell couldn’t I say what was racing through my head? It might’ve had something to do with the fact that I hadn’t spoken them out loud in years. But when I turned to look at my partner, I didn’t see some stupid meathead football player. I saw someone who wasn’t the type to walk away from a problem just because it was going to be difficult. If Logan was that type of person, he’d already have ditched my ass and begged Harris for another assignment. No . . . I needed to tell him the truth. There was no way I could stay on this case without cluing him in about my past.
Wiretaps & Whiskers (The Faerie Files Book 1) Page 11