The Ivy Nash Thrillers: Books 1-3: Redemption Thriller Series 7-9 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set)

by John W. Mefford

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Do you speak English?” Through the reflection of the mirror, I could see her pause, holding my gaze for an extra second.

  I could feel a twister form deep in my stomach. Blowing out a breath, I tried not to allow her sassy attitude to bring me down. “English I’m pretty good at. I’ve been speaking and writing it my entire life. We all know I’m not great with Spanish.”

  “Whatever. I have work to get done.” She walked by me, but I noticed she rolled her eyes. And that I couldn’t ignore.

  “You’re really a piece of work,” I said, wadding up my paper towel.

  She stopped and put a hand on her extra-wide hip. “You’re in la-la land, Ivy. Certifiable. A crazy woman,” she said, rotating the index finger of her other hand near her head—the universal symbol for “nutso.”

  “I’d rather be crazy than the biggest bitch on the planet. And who would have guessed that the biggest bitch has a job where she needs to interact with kids? In fact, you actually have to like kids.”

  Her cheeks instantly turned pink. “Go ahead, make fun of me. I’ll have the last laugh when I see you using food stamps to buy food, or even worse, maybe you’ll be one of those pathetic beggars on the side of the street, doing anything to get five bucks.” She paused and tapped a finger against her lips. “Now that I think about it, if you could actually steal some makeup, buy some heels and a short skirt, you might be able to make some money the old-fashioned way…as a hooker.”

  “Now you’ve gone too far, Joanna. I wouldn’t get caught dead in a short skirt. Not my style.” I smiled a not-so-friendly smile. “Look, regardless of what you say, you’re not going to turn me into another you. We have completely different views of the world. I actually care about people, especially kids. You care about...I guess it’s your government paycheck and pension that you’ll never see.”

  “You’re so full of it, Ivy. I care about me first. Is that so wrong? You only want to be the martyr, even at the expense of others. Have you not thought about the fact that your little show back at that house could impact me and your other coworkers? We matter too, you know.”

  I shook my head in disgust. “And why do you have this job?”

  “I don’t have to explain myself. Hubbard supports me, and that’s all that matters.”

  “Our fearless leader,” I said, my eyes rolling into my head.

  “At least someone is looking out for our jobs, our reputations. Sure, we care about the kids, but we have a thousand cases to work, and those cases will still be there next week, next month, next year.”

  She used the term “we” like she and Hubbard were joined at the hip. “Kiss-ass.”

  “Call me names, it matters not.”

  “You saw her earlier, didn’t you?

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said with a higher-pitched voice, feigning sincerity.

  “What did she do, promise you a promotion?”

  She shrugged her shoulders, but she couldn’t help herself, and a smile quickly washed over her fat face.

  “You know, with that promotion, you might get a one-percent raise.”

  “You have no clue what you’re talking about.”

  “I also hear they’ll give you the keys to the vending machine. Free candy for life.”

  “Go ahead, make fun of me, Ivy. I don’t have to wish bad things on you. You’re a one-woman wrecking crew. You will crash and burn. But the rest of us have learned to stay far away and pretend we don’t even know you.”

  “Sure, whatever, Joanna. Keep lying to yourself.”

  She put a hand on the door handle. “You’ll be all alone again, Ivy. Just like when you were a kid growing up and not a single family could deal with you. You’re starved for attention, but when this is all over, you’ll have alienated everyone. And you can just sit on the side of the street and try to recall what it was like to have a job, eat decent food.”

  She swung open the door and walked out before I could offer another retort. I smacked my hand off the counter, disgusted for letting her annoy me so much.

  But I also felt resolve gain a foothold inside of me.

  I knew at that moment, regardless of Hubbard’s edict about my job or Joanna’s insults about my childhood, I couldn’t just sit idly by and wait for the justice process to weed out the good from the bad.

  Maybe Miguel did somehow pull the trigger that killed Tommy. And maybe there was a reason why. Who the hell knew at this point? I could throw out suppositions and theories until Christmas, but I needed facts.

  8

  Tossing the paper towel in the trash, I opened the door to head back to my chair, and I nearly ran into Stan coming out of the men’s room.

  “Oh, hey,” he said, his tone more of a mumble.

  “Everyone is overjoyed to see me today,” I said, knowing my sarcasm was emerging.

  “Nothing personal, Ivy. I’m feeling the heat, and with so many higher-ups coming in to offer an opinion on how to approach the investigation, it’s just adding more anxiety to my life. They’ve set up a war room, and you could cut the tension with a knife in there right now. And the investigation isn’t even three hours old.”

  I put a hand on his arm. “Sorry, Stan. I wish all of this could have been avoided, somehow, some way.”

  “I wish everyone cared as much as you did, Ivy.”

  “Don’t flatter me, please. I’m no different than ninety percent of the population.”

  “Believe me, there are a lot of selfish people in this world. Some in this very department might want to use a case like this to make a name for themselves.”

  Sounded like he was speaking about Hubbard and Joanna. “Okay, maybe eighty percent.” I tried to crack a smile but didn’t quite pull it off.

  “You okay?” He was examining my face, and I touched it.

  “Why, is my makeup still smeared?”

  He nodded.

  “No worries. I wasn’t having a nervous breakdown, if that’s what you were thinking. Just needed to cool off.”

  “I get it. This shit isn’t easy on anyone. If you have someone you can talk to about this privately, it might help you cope.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I need to get back,” he said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder.

  “One quick thing. I saw Miguel earlier, and he was wearing different clothes. A big orange T-shirt. Do you know why?”

  Stan ran his stubby fingers through his hair while looking over my shoulder. I turned around and only saw a few uniforms milling about. “What is it, Stan?”

  “They did a GSR on Miguel.”

  I tilted my head.

  “GSR stands for gunshot residue. It’s a test of the skin and clothes to see if he had discharged a gun.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “The test. How did it turn out?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Dammit, Ivy, this is confidential. I can’t share this with you.”

  I chose not to respond and held a blank stare instead.

  “I—” He stopped short.

  “Stan, you know me. I’m not Internal Affairs, and I’m not with the media. I just need to know the facts.”

  He glanced away, and then shifted his eyes back to me. “It came back positive, Ivy. He fired a weapon.”

  My nausea quickly returned.

  9

  I stared at a mesmerizing gold and black print created by Gustav Klimpt in room 3 of my gynecologist’s office. The hum of the fluorescent lights above allowed me a brief respite from the chaos and ensuing indignation of the last twenty-four hours.

  A fly buzzed across my face, and I swatted at it. I missed the fly, but scratched the tip of my nose. “Little fucker!”

  What made me think for one moment that I could actually have a moment of peace?

  After waiting six hours yesterday evening, I’d finally had my interview at the police station. Stan had
been in the room, but said not a word. Rick Huerta, the former Internal Affairs detective, led the one-sided conversation. It was nothing more than a fifty-minute rebuke of my “reckless and careless” behavior. He even insinuated that I had purposely sabotaged police efforts. Up until that moment I had bitten my tongue, which, after putting up with Hubbard’s caustic threat and Joanna’s smug remarks, I actually felt good about. But Huerta’s accusation set me off. As Stan stood behind Huerta, shaking his head and hoping I’d shut my trap, I questioned Huerta on what he thought my justification might be to purposely disrupt the hostage rescue effort.

  All he could say was, “You’re just one of the those people who thinks kids can do no wrong.”

  “Then call me guilty,” I had said through gritted teeth.

  He’d mumbled something under his breath and then let me leave the interview room.

  Later, when Stan and I had a brief moment together, I did my best to convince him to allow me to visit with Miguel. He would have none of it, especially after my comments during my interview with Huerta. Looking back, I probably should have waited a day to approach Stan. But patience wasn’t my strong suit.

  The door to room 3 opened, and in walked a tall, leggy woman with silky-smooth skin the color of wet sand. Her dark, lustrous hair outlined a face with near-perfect features. Dr. Zahera Subzali was not only my physician, but also my best friend. She would be the first to point out the mole on her left cheek. But for the rest of us mortals, the mole had that Cindy Crawford vibe. It just added to her radiance.

  “I tried to sleep with Chase last night,” I blurted.

  Four years older and ten times more successful than I, she was one of the few people I actually listened to in terms of advice, at least occasionally. Very often I would tell her I wasn’t seeking guidance, just someone to listen and nod. This time, though, I wasn’t sure what I wanted.

  She took a seat on her rolling chair and slowly lifted her perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Wow, Ivy, you’ve been on a roll the last two days,” she said with a pained chuckle.

  “I think my head is still spinning.” I shifted in my seat, and my paper gown made a loud ruffling noise.

  “I can see why. You poor thing, being in the middle of all that craziness. Not many people would have been able to keep it together. I know I wouldn’t have.”

  “You deliver babies. No small feat there,” I said. “I can’t imagine what you’ve seen in your career.”

  “I don’t kiss and tell,” she said. Then we both giggled, and my shoulders dropped an inch as I felt myself relax a little.

  She opened the folder in her hands, skimmed some notes, then tossed it on the counter nearby. “We’ll get to your official visit here in a second. Give me one good reason why you didn’t sleep with that perfectly chiseled man. Well, something besides the fact that he’s a lying, cheating asshat.”

  “Now that you put it that way, I don’t feel so…desperate.”

  “Come on, give it up,” she said, motioning for me to continue.

  I released a loud sigh. “You know everything that went down yesterday between the voicemail I left you—”

  “Oh dear God, that video. Have you seen all the comments?” she asked as her voice pitched up an octave.

  I shook my head. “I thought about taking a look last night when I got home, but after I fed Zorro, I decided not to put myself through another emotional roller coaster.”

  “Let’s just say the comments are all over the place. Some think you’re a hero for even trying to trade places with those kids, and some think you were just trying to get your fifteen minutes of fame.”

  I tapped the exam table I was sitting on. “I figured this is my ‘in’ to get a reality TV show. My next move is to make a sex video with a rapper and then pretend like I didn’t know anything about him leaking it to every website on the Internet.”

  She snorted from laughing so hard, and I joined in. Laughing at myself was good; at least it beat the alternative of crying all day.

  “All right, you sex goddess, tell me why you didn’t jump Chase’s bones.”

  “Here’s how it went down,” I said, holding up a hand. “I knocked on his door. Then I panicked. I wondered what the hell I was doing and wondered if he would laugh in my face. I didn’t want him to think I was—”

  “Desperate for his body. Nothing wrong with that. We’re young women; we have needs too.”

  “Thanks for the affirmation, Z. Where was I?”

  “Standing at Chase’s door and having a panic attack.” She crossed her legs, resting an elbow on her knee.

  “Right. I took a couple of steps away from the door…kind of in no-man’s-land. I was contemplating leaving, but then realized I didn’t have enough time to make it to my car, so then I thought about jumping behind the bushes. And then I thought, if he sees me doing that, he’ll really think he’s got a stalking, crazy ex-girlfriend on his hands.”

  Zahera’s lips were pressed together, but the rest of her face was shaking from laughter. “You’re the best comic relief a gyno could ever have. Keep going, please.”

  “It gets better, except for me,” I said, now in full-on story mode. “His enormous metal and glass front door swings open, and he’s wearing nothing more than a bath towel.”

  Zahera’s big, brown eyes appeared to double in size. “Okay, so far, this can only end in one way. I’m really curious now.”

  I held up a finger. “The next few seconds were surreal.”

  “How? Why didn’t you just jump him right there?”

  “He had this sheepish grin on his face, but then I looked down and I could tell he was very excited to see me.”

  Zahera began to fan herself.

  “And he was wet all over.”

  “Woo-hoo!” she shouted. “It just got hot in here.”

  I giggled, but for just a second. “Your mind is moving in the same direction mine was, except mine was moving at the speed of sound.”

  “Oh my, you’re building this up, Ivy. I still don’t know how—”

  “How I messed it up?”

  “I didn’t mean it that way. Well, maybe…kind of.”

  Another round of laughter.

  “My eyes were so fixated on his package that I didn’t realize I’d already taken a step into his house.”

  “Is he still living in that four-bedroom, contemporary castle?”

  “You should talk. Your condo was featured in Texas Monthly magazine.”

  “We’ve been through this a hundred times, Ivy. My neighbor’s condo was in the magazine. She has two floors. I just have one.” She gave a mock pouty face.

  “Do you want to hear what happened?”

  “Sorry. Please hit the climax soon.” She giggled again.

  “So, I’m walking in, maybe about a foot away from—”

  “It’s called a penis, Ivy. Say it with me now…pe…”

  I flipped her the bird. “Dick. And it was prominent.”

  “Good Lord! Get to the end, please! Or was it the beginning of the end?”

  The muscles in my mouth hurt from smiling so much. “You already know how it ends.”

  “How?”

  “I struck out.”

  “Details, Ivy. I want to know the smut.” She seemed like a dog begging for food, her tongue practically hanging from her mouth.

  I released a breath. “If you weren’t you, I’d be embarrassed to admit it. As soon as I took a step inside, I saw the bare naked hip of a shapely woman pull up just behind Chase.”

  “That ho! What did you do?”

  “I fumbled…with my words and my feet. I tried to take a step back, but tripped over the metal door strip and fell into his damn sculpted Japanese plant.”

  She pressed her hand over her mouth, but her eyes screamed with laughter.

  “When I picked myself up, the woman was standing next to him, practically humping his leg.”

  “Like I said, what a ho!”

  “Chase said I should have called—he
hadn’t heard from me in six months. He was right.”

  “I bet she had a tramp stamp.”

  “I didn’t look. Between his bulges and her curves, I knew I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I mumbled some sort of apology, and then I just left. And now that I’ve replayed the whole thing in my head again—”

  “It’s not that bad, is it?”

  “It’s ten times worse.”

  We took a break from the laughs, and Zahera performed my annual exam. Afterward, she made notes in my file, and I swung my legs around so I was sitting upright. She looked up at me after a few minutes and said, “When we had drinks a couple of weeks ago, you told me you were thinking about the sperm donor route.”

  I poked myself in the chest. “I said that?”

  She nodded. “It was after your second lemon martini.”

  “I must have been feeling desperate.”

  “You’re only twenty-eight, Ivy. Plenty of child-bearing years ahead of you.”

  I wiped my face. I could feel my eyes burning from a night filled with more tossing and turning than sleeping. “I don’t know. Sometimes, it seems like time is passing by so quickly. And while I have this desire to have kids of my own, I’m not sure I’ll ever find that special someone. Besides, I’m busy as hell just trying to keep my head above water helping our agency kids.”

  “It might help if you put a little effort into it.”

  “What are you saying?”

  She brought a hand to her face. “You think I got this way by just rolling out of bed?”

  “Oh, Z, don’t try to compare me to you. You’re every guy’s wet dream.”

  We both snorted out a laugh. Then she said, “P-lease. I’ve never seen a blemish on your skin. Your blue eyes and blond hair…you’re an All-American, natural beauty. But you just need to put a little effort into it.”

  “I put effort into it.” I didn’t sound very convincing.

  She put her hands on her hips.

  “Okay, now you’re starting to make me feel self-conscious.”

  “You should feel great about your taut body. You look like you could have been a soccer star or something.”

  I swatted a hand in her direction. “You’re just trying to butter me up after my Chase rejection.”