by Mary Burton
She lifted an eyebrow. “Why, Detective, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“I mean it.” There was no hint of humor now. He would arrest Donovan if she gave the word. “He’s a real creep, and I’d love nothing better than to bring him down a peg.”
The banter felt right and good. Her world came back into balance. “I can take care of myself. But thanks.”
“An extra hand never killed anyone.”
“Like my dad used to say, if it doesn’t kill you it makes you stronger. I’m still standing, so I guess I can thank Donovan for making me stronger.”
“Stronger or more cautious?”
“Both.” She didn’t want to talk about herself. “Any news on the Sierra Day case?”
He shoved hands into his pockets and rattled the change. “No. A lot of people would have liked to have killed her, but they all have alibis.”
Her mind clicked into defense-attorney mode. “Alibis are easy.”
“Finding this mystery boyfriend is not.”
“He’s out there. Somewhere.”
He hesitated as if struggling for words. “By the way, thanks for the tip.”
“Sure.”
Angie turned, and as she moved away she noted she and Kier had been quite civil to each other. She suspected she’d just witnessed a minor miracle.
Malcolm watched Angie Carlson walk away. She moved slowly, shoulders back as if she were queen of the world. He’d never seen her guard down until he’d seen her with Donovan. For just a second, when Donovan had been venting nastiness, Malcolm had glimpsed pain behind the ice. Whatever Donovan had fired her way had struck a nerve.
To her credit, Angie had rebounded and rallied. He believed if he’d not arrived when he did, she’d have landed a punch or two of her own. Frankly, nothing would have given Malcolm greater satisfaction than to see the counselor hit Donovan.
During last year’s investigation into the Sorority House Murders and Donovan’s near-death experience, Angie’s relationship with the reporter had come to light. Instead of hedging or trying to hide a very embarrassing episode in her life, she’d been honest and straightforward when questioned by Garrison. She’d plainly admitted that Donovan, who’d only been after information on Eva Rayburn, had made a fool out of her when he’d coaxed her into his bed and tried to elicit information.
Carlson could have lied about the whole episode. But she hadn’t. She’d put protecting her sister above her own feelings.
In fact, as he thought back, he couldn’t point to one time when she’d lied to him. She’d grilled him in court, mocked him to his face, and directly denied him information, but she’d never lied.
Cops called her The Barracuda for a reason. Not only could she take care of herself, but also when she latched on to a witness she didn’t let go until she tasted blood.
But she’d never pretended to be otherwise. She was who she was.
So, why should this matter? And why had he had the urge to protect her when Donovan had had her cornered?
Malcolm blew out a breath as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Because I’m a goddammed idiot.”
* * *
Donovan had never considered it wise to give in to hate. It was a pointless, vain emotion that often blinded the unwise to opportunity. But as he watched Angie leave the courthouse his hate for her would not be denied.
He released the reins and let the emotion free. He let his imagination go to its darkest places and pictured himself destroying her, word by word.
After all he’d been through last year—the trauma, the surgery, and the rehab—he had every right to every bit of success he could grab. She had no right to deny him.
She’d stood in front of him like a righteous Puritan today, but the heart of a hot little whore beat under that silk suit. She’d liked all the nasty things he’d done to her. Hell, she’d loved it all. She simply didn’t want the world to know that she was a freak.
A client of hers had been murdered, and he intended to play that detail to the hilt. He’d drag her sweet ass through every bit of mud he could find.
Chapter 13
Thursday, October 6, 7:15 P.M.
Angie wasn’t mad at Eva because Lulu hadn’t shown up in court today. Okay, maybe put out, but not mad. People misjudged people all the time. And though Eva had an off-the-charts IQ she was susceptible to liars just like the rest of the regular folks.
But she was now officially annoyed with Eva because her sister had not answered her cell phone. Eva had spent ten years in jail for a crime she didn’t commit. The confinement had been during the cell phone explosion, and when Eva was finally released, she’d become so accustomed to not needing the gadget she often forgot to charge her phone or even bring it along with her.
Angie had given Eva a phone for security reasons. No matter how many times Angie spoke to Eva about the phone, and no matter how many times Eva swore she’d do a better job in the future, they always found themselves right back in the same boat.
She took her seat at the bar at King’s and waited for Eva to see her. Eva looked pale and tired. She didn’t have the usual zest. All Angie’s recriminations lost steam. “What’s going on with you?”
Eva set the soda down in front of Angie. “Why do you say that?”
“You look like shit.”
Eva arched a brow. “I love you too.”
Angie shrugged. “You never look sick. You now look sick. What gives?”
Eva shrugged. “Flu, I suppose. Bound to happen sooner or later. I’m in the public every day.”
“How’s school?”
“Good. How did Lulu do today?”
Angie traced the rim of her glass. “Funny you should mention Lulu. I tried to call you from court.”
“In a test. Had to turn The Thing off.”
“Did you turn the phone back on?”
A half smile tugged at the edge of Eva’s mouth. “Judging by your expression I’d say no. And I’d say if I turned The Thing on right now I would have three or four missed calls.”
“Three.”
A hint of amusement sparked in her eyes. “You’re getting better. Not the full-out panic when I don’t answer.”
“You did almost die last year.”
“That was last year.”
Angie shook her head. “It’s beyond me how you can just let the past go.”
“What’s the sense in hanging on?” Eva punched in Angie’s dinner order. “I assume the usual.”
“Yeah.”
Eva shrugged. “So did Lulu do a great job? I know she was thrilled you were helping.”
A heavy silence hung for a moment or two. “Lulu never showed in court.”
Eva leaned forward. “You are kidding me.”
“Nope. I waited outside the courtroom until the last possible second, then dashed into court to get my ass reamed by the judge.”
“Shit.”
“Tell me about it.”
Eva shook her head. “That’s not like Lulu. She was very committed to getting David back.”
“She is also a drug addict who has only been clean six months. You know the stats on addicts. They can lapse so easily.”
“Not Lulu. I’ve seen her walk away from temptation too many times. She wouldn’t screw this up for anything.”
Angie hated to see Eva upset. “I don’t know what to tell you, Eva. She messed up big time. The judge awarded custody to her mother. And her chances of getting it back now are slim to none for the foreseeable future.”
Eva’s lips flattened. “I don’t buy this. Something is wrong.”
“Eva. Nothing is wrong other than Lulu can’t stay away from the drugs.”
Eva leaned forward, a spark of anger refreshing the paleness in her face. “I’ve been on the wrong side before. I know what it’s like to have the whole damn world against you and to have no one to call a friend.”
When Eva had been on trial, Angie had gone against her father and flown back to Virginia from college to see Eva. S
he’d been prepared to help. But she hadn’t been prepared for Eva’s anger or her demands that Angie leave her alone.
“Just get the fuck out of my life!” Eva had shouted in the visitors’ room.
To this day, Angie deeply regretted that she’d not looked beyond her own feelings of hurt and rejection and seen that Josiah’s father, Darius, had threatened Eva if she accepted any help.
“You are not Lulu,” Angie said. “This is not your murder trial.”
“She is on trial. Her whole future is at stake.” Eva shook her head. “She’s not much older than I was when it all went wrong. She’s alone.” The last words held so much emotion and sadness that for a moment it took Angie’s breath away.
“She wasn’t alone. She had you, and she had me. She had people in her corner. She was the one who chose not to play by the rules.”
Eva’s fingers gripped the edge of the bar. “Who knows who or what kept her from that courtroom today.”
“Lulu kept Lulu from that courtroom today.”
“I don’t buy it.” Eva checked her watch. “But I intend to find out what happened.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I know where she keeps a small apartment, and I know where she works. I am going to see both.”
“You’re working.”
“The night is slow. King won’t mind.”
Angie sat forward. “Yeah, well, I mind you snooping around in God-only-knows-what back alley for someone who might not want to be found or worse is strung out on drugs and would hurt you.”
“You sound like an old lady. Stop worrying so much.”
The old lady jab dug a little deeper than it should have. “I’m not old. I’m just careful.”
“Super careful, if you ask me.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Come on, that crap with Donovan did a number on you. You’re wrapped tighter than an old nun.”
“I am not. I take chances.”
“When?”
“Hell, I don’t keep a diary.” She wagged her finger. “But I am not an old nun.”
Eva’s gaze trailed over Angie. “Right. Well, I don’t have time to argue. I’m going to Lulu’s apartment and then to her bar. I want to know if anyone has seen her.”
“You’re going now?”
“Yes.” Eva smiled. “Look, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. And I’ll turn on my cell phone so you can call me any time you want.” To prove the point, she pulled the phone from her back hip pocket and made a show of turning it on.
Angie wasn’t old. She wasn’t a nun. She took chances. Sure, she was cautious. Sane people were careful. Shit. “I’m going with you.”
“What?”
“I’m going with you. Right now. I’m going with you to wherever Lulu worked.”
“When the people in that bar see you they’ll think the cops or the FBI have arrived. You’re too buttoned-up.”
Angie glanced down at her dark pencil skirt, matching tailored jacket, white shirt, and single strand of pearls. “I was in court today.”
“You still look stiff. Hell, you’re wearing a bun, Angie.”
Angie gently touched the chignon, which she’d carefully twisted up this morning. She’d been pleased that it had gone up so easily, and the single comb had secured it on the first attempt. But without hesitation, she pulled the comb free and let her thick blond hair fall and skim the top of her shoulders.
She shook her head and ran her fingers through the mane to comb out the kinks. “Okay, lend me some clothes. I can fit into your jeans, and I know you have a million T-shirts.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, I am not. Where you go, I go.”
Eva studied her sister. “You’re going to need some makeup to tart you up a bit.”
“Great. Have at it.”
“Okay. Let’s get going.”
Within a half hour, Eva had spoken to King. Angie had changed into faded jeans that hugged her hips a bit too tightly for her tastes and a red T-shirt that said Back Off. Eva had applied too much mascara to Angie’s pale lashes and caked on eye makeup and rouge.
Angie stared into the rearview mirror of her car as she waited for traffic to clear. “I look awful.”
“And now you just might fit. The only trick will be to remove the metal pole that seems lodged in your spine.”
“I’m proud of my good posture.” She sighed. “But I get the drift. Slump.”
“Yeah. Forget all the polite stuff your dad taught you. Embrace the dark side.”
Angie laughed and pulled into traffic. “Great.”
“We’ll stop at Lulu’s apartment first. Then hit the bar.”
“I’m game.”
The drive to Lulu’s apartment took twenty minutes. It was in a seedy, run-down building that smelled of cabbage and garbage. The halls were dimly lit, and the sounds of a couple arguing and a baby crying drifted through paper-thin walls.
Eva rose on tiptoes and ran her fingers along the top edge of Lulu’s front door. She found the key, unlocked the door, and opened it. She flipped on the light inside the apartment. “Lulu. Are you here?”
It was a one-room apartment with a Murphy bed and a kitchen with a microwave, sink, and very small refrigerator. There was a small round table, equipped with four mismatched chairs, a ten-inch television with rabbit ears, and a single window covered with a white sheet.
The Murphy bed was neatly turned down. The sheets were crisp and clean. In the corner was a crib. It had worn edges and clearly was older, but it was clean and filled with stuffed animals.
“Looks like she expected to come back last night. But didn’t,” Eva said.
“Yeah.”
Angie walked to the kitchen table where she found a framed picture. It was a photo of Lulu and her son just hours after he was born. Lulu’s face was freshly scrubbed, and though she looked exhausted she was beaming. Carefully, she set the picture down. “Any sign of her in the bathroom?”
“No,” Eva said. “No mail. Nothing weird. It doesn’t look like she was here last night.”
“What about signs of drugs?”
“Nothing. Not even a drop of alcohol or a fleck of tobacco.”
“She could be in a back alley or with a john.”
“She’s not. I know it.”
“Okay.” Angie smoothed her hand over the table’s surface and discovered it was clean. “So we head to the place where she worked?”
“Yeah. ZZ’s.”
“Let’s go.”
The ten-minute drive to ZZ’s took them deeper into a dark world, a universe away from the historic streets of Old Town Alexandria. The area had a hard, industrial feel, with traffic lights and lots of traffic congestion.
Angie parked in an all-night diner’s lot as Eva instructed.
“We’ll walk the rest of the way.”
“In this neighborhood?”
“Just keep your eyes forward and try to look pissed, like you might sock someone if they get too close.”
“A lesson from prison?”
“One of many.”
The night air was cool and quickly cut through the soft fabric of the T-shirt. They moved down semi-lighted streets past hookers and a couple of shady guys. However, Eva didn’t quicken her pace until she spotted a beat cop.
When they were a safe distance, Angie said, “So are you still afraid of cops, or are you afraid of being recognized and word getting back to Garrison?”
“Both, I guess. I still clench when I see a uniform. I have too many bad memories of being led away in handcuffs. And Garrison knows just about every cop on the beat. Word can very easily get back to him. He worries, and I don’t want him to worry.”
“So you care about him?”
Eva shoved long fingers in her jeans pocket. “I like him well enough.”
“That’s why you see him almost every night.”
“We do all right together. I just wonder if we can make the long haul.”
“Why couldn
’t you? I see the way he looks at you. He’s insane for you.”
“I don’t have a history of long-term anything except prison. So I try not to plan too far ahead.”
When a couple of girls came bursting out of a bar, music mingled with a rush of smoky, warm air.
“You are the one that’s always preaching ‘eyes forward.’”
“Yeah, well, we all worry.” She nodded to the block ahead. “That’s where she works. ZZ’s.”
Angie glanced up to the red neon sign that blinked. The front window was lit up with a beer sign, and she could see inside that the place was crowded. “What kind of people come here?”
“Rough people.”
“Like how rough?” She’d dealt with her share of rough clients, but it had always been in the courtroom or a jail visitors’ room. She was always in control … in her element. Now as she descended into their world, she wanted to ask Eva again if this was a good idea. She wanted to preach caution, but the steel in Eva’s features told her the words would hit deaf ears.
And to be honest, she wanted to know where Lulu worked. She wanted to find the girl and give her crap for leaving her in the lurch. “So what do we do?”
“You stay by the front door. Keep an eye out. I’ll talk to the bartender. I kind of know her, and she might talk to me.”
“How do you know her?”
“We were cellmates.” Her tone was casual.
“Okay.”
Inside the bar the music was so loud she could feel the beat pounding in her breastbone. The smoke was so thick, despite the recent ban on smoking in bars. She guessed cigarettes were the least of the vices in a place like this. Eva moved through the crowd, her shoulders back and her chin lifted. By all appearances she wasn’t afraid, but Angie could tell by the way Eva’s fingers tapped the side of her leg that she was nervous.
A couple of big burly guys came into the bar, and one bumped into Angie. She stumbled and almost tripped over a small round table that hosted several girls in tight dresses. They glared at her.
“Oh, sorry.”
Angie righted herself and searched for a safe place to stand. The cigarette smoke burned her eyes even as the music assailed her eardrums. The floor felt gummy under her borrowed boots. She glanced back to an open space of wall, noting it was covered in graffiti. Death. Wolf Pack. #18. Great. They were in the heart of a gang hangout.