by Style, Linda
The phone rang and Laura hesitated before answering. She’d had too many breathers and hang-up calls. “Hello.”
“Hi. It’s me, Alysa. I just wanted to tell you I’m going to be late coming home tonight.”
“Is something wrong?”
“No,” Alysa answered practically before Laura got out the question.
“What’s going on?”
“I—I’m going to check on the job at the ice-cream place.”
“Did you get a call from them?”
“No, but I want to make sure they remember me. I won’t be too late.”
“Okay,” Laura said reluctantly. Alysa sounded nervous, edgy. But she wasn’t going to push the issue. Most of the girls at Victory House had trust issues going both ways. “We’ll see you when you get here, then. Good luck with the job.”
“Thanks.” Alysa disconnected immediately.
Laura looked at Rose. “It was Alysa. She’s going to be late.” She paused, thinking. Something in Alysa’s tone said she was in trouble.
“Is there a problem?”
Going back to the window to check on Cait, Laura said, “No. Not with her being late. But she sounded…preoccupied.”
“Well, it’s only been two weeks since the confrontation with her parents. She’s probably still upset.”
Laura felt Alysa’s pain as if it were her own. Alysa had been devastated when her parents had told Laura they weren’t interested in reconciling with their daughter. Only they hadn’t said it so nicely. As far as they were concerned, when Alysa started working the streets, she gave up her birthright. They no longer had a daughter.
Even though Laura had advised and counseled Alysa afterward, she knew Rose was right. It would take time for the wound to heal. Alysa had to work through the rejection, the abandonment. If that was possible.
The cold indifference made her angry. She’d buried the heartbreak of her own experience deep inside, but she knew exactly how Alysa must feel.
Laura swallowed a sudden lump in her throat.. She’d been so wrapped up in her own worries, she hadn’t been paying attention to the obvious. When she thought back, she realized Alysa had been too quiet. Many nights she’d gone directly to her room after dinner. Though she still got good grades, her interest in school had waned these past few weeks.
“Rose, I need to go out for a bit,” she said when she finally saw Cait coming up the walk. “If I get Cait set up with her homework, can you keep an eye on her for an hour or so?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“That’s what I’m going to find out.”
Ten minutes later, Laura was in Rose’s car and headed toward the ice-cream store. Alysa had said it was near the school in the small strip mall. As she pulled into the parking lot, she saw a group of girls standing in a huddle and was reminded of her night duty, combing the streets for runaway teens prostituting themselves.
An odd comparison. These were high school girls, dressed nicely, hanging out in the middle of the afternoon and having a good time.
She’d obviously been in the field too long.
Alysa wasn’t with the other girls, so Laura decided to wait. If Alysa was inside talking to the manager, she’d be out soon enough.
Just then a small BMW pulled up and one of the girls leaned down to talk to the driver, an older man. Seconds later, she climbed into the passenger side and the car took off. Probably the girl’s father.
But watching the girls shift around, standing in seductive poses, preening and watching the street, as if waiting for someone to come, Laura’s uneasiness grew. And where the hell was Alysa?
She pulled out her phone and called the shelter. “How’s Cait doing?” Laura asked when Rose answered.
“She’s fine. And she’ll be fine until you get back. So, don’t be calling every five minutes.”
Laura laughed, reprimand taken. “Okay, okay.”
“Did you find Alysa?”
“Not yet. I’m waiting outside in the parking lot. I don’t want to embarrass her by going in.”
“You’ll probably embarrass her just by being there. What are you going to say?”
“I’ll let her know I was concerned about our conversation. I felt she needed some support.”
“Right.”
Laura watched another girl get in another car. “This is really weird, Rose. I’m sitting here watching some high school girls standing on the sidewalk…then a car pulls up and after a brief conversation, one of them gets in a car. It’s happened three times.”
“Boyfriends?”
“Not the ones I’ve seen so far. These guys are old enough to be their fathers.”
“Maybe they are?”
Just then a BMW, same color as the one before, pulled up, stopped and the same girl who’d gone off before climbed from the car. “What the…” Laura’s mouth nearly fell open. “Geezus, Rose, I don’t want to think the worst, but damn, it looks like they’re hustling.”
“Nothing we’re not familiar with.”
“Yes, but these aren’t street kids.”
“Not the kind you can tempt with some food and a warm place to sleep, huh?”
“Not a chance. Judging from the clothes they’re wearing, these girls sleep in better places than the mayor.”
“So, how long are you going to wait?”
“I’ll give it another fifteen or twenty.”
After she hung up, she watched a big black sedan cruise up to the curb. The car was so much like the one that had plagued them at the park—and at Caitlin’s school—cold fear shot down her spine. Was it the same car? She should get out and go over…see who’s driving. But that was ridiculous. There had to be thousands of black cars in the city.
Still, she kept watching the car like an onlooker at the scene of an accident—she didn’t want to look, but couldn’t pull herself away. Then the passenger door opened.
And Alysa stepped out.
***
“Hi, Phoebe, is Laura around?” Jordan switched the phone to his other ear.
No, but she should be back soon. Can I have her call you?”
“Sure.” His disappointment because Laura wasn’t home was greater than it should be.
“Does she have the number?”
“Yes, but I’ll give you another one. If she calls within the next couple of hours, I’ll be here.” He gave Phoebe the number.
“It must be important. I can tell her what it is if you want.”
It was important. To him. Still shaken about Rita Valdez’s murder, he needed to talk to someone. No, that wasn’t true. He wanted to talk to Laura. “It’s not important, but thanks.”
“It was nice having you here for dinner last week,” Phoebe quickly injected before he could hang up. “We don’t have dinner guests very often.”
He shifted in the lounge chair. “Well, I’m flattered to be one of them. I don’t get to spend the evening with a household of beautiful women very often, either.”
“You’ll have to come again.”
He’d like that, too. But if Laura wanted him there, for dinner or anything else, she’d ask. “Thanks. Nice talking to you, Phoebe. And thanks for relaying my message,” he said as a way to break off the conversation. Phoebe seemed like a nice person, but last week, she’d looked at him as if he was the main course.
He heard a slight hesitation in Phoebe’s voice when she said goodbye. As comfortable as he was around most women, he wasn’t around Phoebe. He didn’t know why.
He sat there a few moments, watching the people on the TV screen mouth their words, as the set was on mute. Finally he took out Laura’s cell phone number and stared at it. He could call and ask some questions about Kolnikov or DeMatta, or even her ex—and he would have to—sometime. But not tonight.
The truth was, he simply wanted to talk to her, get to know her better. He hadn’t felt that way about a woman for a long time.
She made him smile. He liked being with her. He liked her honesty. She was a strong person to do wha
t she did every day. And she was just as strong in her refusal to give him any information. He hadn’t been able to weasel more than a few tidbits out of her.
He couldn’t help wondering what pushed her buttons. She was great with the teens in her care, and with her daughter—a little spitfire. He rested his head against the back of the chair. The kid had a streak of independence a mile wide. Laura was going to have her hands full in a few years. Maybe sooner.
The phone rang and he was immediately on alert. He hoped it wasn’t dispatch. He didn’t need another call out so soon after the last. “St. James.”
He heard a click and then the dial tone. Odd. But at least it wasn’t another homicide. People who thought cops were hardened to the stuff they saw every day were crazy. It all took its toll.
When he was on the job, he had to act, take care of business. There was no time to think about the victims or their families. No time to think about himself. But at night when he was alone, everything coalesced into one ugly nightmare. There weren’t too many nights when he didn’t wake up in a sweat. In a way, he envied his married friends. They had another world to escape to.
And tonight was even worse. He couldn’t shake the thought that his visit to Rita Valdez may have somehow led to her murder. The method, the timing of the killing, only a few hours after he’d been there, seemed more than coincidental.
The phone rang again, this time his cell. He glanced at the number but didn’t recognize it.
“St. James.”
“Hi.”
He might not have recognized the number, but it didn’t take a millisecond to recognize her sexy voice.
“Laura. I guess Phoebe gave you my message.”
“Uh…no, she didn’t. I called because I need to talk to you…can you meet me?”
“Anytime, anywhere. What’s going on?”
“I saw the black car this afternoon. I’ve got a license number for you to check out, but I can’t talk here.”
“Okay. Where?”
She gave him the name of a café not too far from the shelter. “I’ve got a couple of things to do, so it’ll take me about an hour to get there.”
“Okay,” he said. “It’ll probably take me that long, too.” As he hung up, Jordan’s adrenaline was pumping. Where had she seen the car in order to get the license number? Quickly he changed into jeans and a black sweater, grabbed his leather jacket and headed for the garage.
Close to an hour later, he pulled up behind Laura’s van, parked in front of a place called Java the Hut. He got out, and walking around the vehicle, he saw she was still in the driver’s seat.
He knocked on the window and she jumped so high he thought she’d hit her head. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
She didn’t answer and once inside the café, he said, “I’ll get the coffee. What’s your preference?”
“A grande, vanilla, no-fat latte.”
He smiled. “That’ll keep you awake all night.”
“It’s okay. I’ve got tour duty at ten.”
Back at the table, he slid one cup to her and then sat across the table where he could see the door.
“Thanks.” She clutched the cup in both hands. “I appreciate your coming so late.”
“No problem.”
She moistened her lips, which made him wonder, not for the first time, what it’d be like to kiss her. As far as he could tell, she wore only lip gloss, and her unadorned lashes were black in contrast with her auburn hair.
“I saw the car and got the license number,” she said without preamble.
“The same vehicle?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Ninety-nine percent.”
He leaned back in the booth. “There are lots of black cars out there.”
“I know. Trust me on this.” Her voice was a bit shaky.
“What’s the number?”
She handed him a piece of paper.
“California?”
“I think so. I was too focused on the numbers.”
“Did you notice the make?”
“A Cadillac, maybe. You saw it before, what do you think?”
“What I think doesn’t matter. What matters is what you saw today.” When she didn’t answer, he continued, “Where did you see the vehicle?”
“Uh…at the mall near the high school.”
“Was it parked?”
“No, the car pulled up, someone got out and then he drove away.”
“He? You saw the driver?”
“The windows were tinted, but I could see the driver was big, definitely male.”
“What about the person who got out…male or female?”
“W-what difference does it make?”
“The more information I have the better.”
She sighed heavily. “A girl got out of the car. A teenager.” A second later she added, “I was so upset about seeing the car, I didn’t get the best look.”
“Are you okay now?”
She nodded. “It just shook me up.”
That was obvious. And seeing her this way made him feel even more protective. “I’ll get a DMV check tomorrow.”
“Then what?”
“If I get a name, we’ll run it through NCIC, the National Crime Information Center, and see what shows up.”
“How long will it take?”
“Barring any problems, a few hours.”
“I really appreciate this, Jordan.”
He shrugged, smiling. “I’m here to serve. It’s my job.”
“Will you let me know what you find out?”
“Sure. I’ll call as soon as I can.” He wanted to keep her here, to talk about other things, personal things. “How’s Caitlin?”
She hesitated, then said, “She’s fine.”
“Did the scooter stay together after I fixed it?”
“I didn’t know it was broken.”
“Well, it wasn’t, not exactly.”
“Oh, my.” She rolled her eyes upward.
“Hey, it was my pleasure. She’s a great kid.”
“Well, thank you. I think so, too, though she can be difficult when she wants to be.”
“Can’t we all?”
She laughed. “Yes, I suppose.”
Now more relaxed, her laugh came from deep in her throat, natural and sexy. “You should do that more often.”
“Do what?”
“Laugh. You have a nice laugh.” He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her.
She fidgeted under his gaze, making him think he’d gotten too personal for her. He hoped not because he really wanted to get even more personal. “I had a tough day and laughter always takes the edge off,” he added.
She took another sip, then licked the moisture from her lips. Her momentary self-consciousness seemed to slip away. “For what it’s worth, I enjoy a good laugh, especially when I’ve had a tough day.” She fiddled with her cup, turning it in circles. “I’m a good listener if you want to talk about it.”
If only he could. If only he could tell her one of Anna Kolnikov’s friends had been murdered—and that he might be responsible for her death. But what kind of confidence would she have in him then?
His phone rang. “Thanks,” he said, pulling the cell from his pocket. “I appreciate the offer. Can I take a rain check on it?”
“Sure. Anytime I’m available.”
“Sorry,” he said. “I have to take this.” He got up, answering the phone at the same time, then took a step away from the booth for privacy. “St. James here.”
He heard heavy breathing. Then after a few seconds, a whining drone.
As he stood there, he heard another phone ringing. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Laura answering her cell phone. He moved closer to hear.
“Hello. This is Laura.”
Her mouth turned down at the edges. “Hello?” she repeated. “Is someone there?” A second later, she disconnected.
Jordan sat across from her again. “Something import
ant?”
She looked at him, puzzled. “No. It must’ve been a wrong number because whoever it was hung up.”
Jordan’s pulse rocketed.
“It’s odd because I’ve had a couple other hang ups recently. I wonder if the black car and the calls are related?”
He clenched his cup then slugged down the rest of his drink. “Well, with this new information you gave me, we may soon find out.” Two hang ups between them, only seconds apart. A coincidence? He didn’t think so.
Someone knew they were together and wanted to send a message. Only Laura didn’t know about his call, and it wouldn’t be wise to tell her.
CHAPTER TEN
AFTER MEETING WITH Jordan, Laura picked up Phoebe and they did their stint on street duty. 10:00 p.m. to 2:00 a.m., since it was a Saturday night. They had no takers on their offer of a warm place to stay for the night, but managed to talk to quite a few teens and handed out cards with their hotline number.
At nearly two, Phoebe said, “Time to call it quits, don’t you think?”
Laura sighed. “Yep. I’m heading home.”
“So, how’s it going with the detective?” Phoebe turned in the passenger seat to look at her.
She knew what Phoebe was getting at, and she wished she had a good answer. She couldn’t deny she wanted to get to know Jordan better. She couldn’t deny she was attracted to him. And she felt the same vibes coming from him. But even if she’d fantasized about him once or twice, he was a cop. She had to remember that, stamp it in the forefront of her mind. “He’s checking on the black car for me.”
Jordan St. James had pulled no punches regarding his feelings about Anna Kolnikov and those in her profession.
If only she could go back to the womb, start her life all over again. But she couldn’t. And now she had too many secrets to ever share a life with anyone. The thought of never having a close relationship with a man—with Jordan—left her with a sick, hollow feeling inside. And the more she wanted what she couldn’t have, the larger the void grew.
“Great. But what else? I know he likes you.”
“There’s nothing else. And whether he likes me or not, you know his type. I’m not in the market for a fling.”
“You sure?”