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

by John W. Mefford

  Three little dots strummed across the screen as she typed a note back to me in about ten seconds.

  Will do. Also did more research on Anika’s family after u left. Finally found one living relative. U won’t be able to guess.

  I glanced up and saw no sign of Saul, so I took the bait from Cristina.

  I won’t even try. Who?

  She replied quickly.

  Anika’s great aunt, Mamie…aka Beatrice Doolittle

  I couldn’t help but smile as I tapped a note back to her.

  Lol. Sounds like an animated character.

  As soon as I hit send, I received another text—this one from Zahera.

  U got your clothes on?

  “Oh my God,” I said out loud, then typed a note back to her.

  Ur crazy and nuts. Having a nice dinner & a couple of drinks. Debating about one more. Not sure where I’ll end up though.

  With my apartment off limits until later tonight, I’d gotten ready for my evening out with Saul at Zahera’s. And Stan had even been nice enough to drop off my laptop. I’m almost certain his mental state of mind had been dipped in chocolate.

  Another text from Cristina.

  We’ll soon find out. Visitation hours start at 9 tomorrow morning. She lives at assisted care facility in San Marcos.

  “You go, girl,” I said before punching in one more text to her.

  You rock, Cristina. I’ll pick u up at 8.

  Bring donuts, she replied.

  I saw Saul approaching the table as Zahera sent me another text.

  1 more drink; 1 more drink; 1 more drink!!!!

  “What are you smiling about?” he asked as he sat down.

  “Oh, nothing, just Zahera being goofy,” I said, dropping my phone in my purse. “Plus, Cristina sent me a note. She’s made a bit of headway on our missing-parents case.”

  “That’s great, Ivy. I really admire what you guys do. You really represent the best of what society has to offer.”

  Another image of my adventure from last night entered my mind—where I had slid off the roof, tumbling to the concrete surface, only to be cushioned by Cristina’s ribs. Breaking and entering—not exactly a great contribution to society.

  “Something funny?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” I said as the waiter appeared, a smile on his face. “Okay, I’ll have that drink.”

  Saul stuck with water and lemon, and I enjoyed my second martini. He talked about how he juggled life as both a law student and a legal assistant at the snooty downtown law firm, Wilson, Mendoza, and Ross.

  “You know Herbert Ross,” he said. “I deal with the environment as best I can, knowing it’s just a job until I can get my degree and open my own firm.”

  “I can see you have a lot of drive, Saul. You’ll reach your goal, and once you open your firm, guys like Herbert Ross will start to understand how a lawyer can do his job and still look at himself in the mirror each day.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he looks at himself in the mirror every day. Hell, every time I turn around, he’s checking himself out in the reflection of the glass walls.”

  I snorted out a laugh just before I took another sip of my martini. “I’m surprised they haven’t asked you to clean all the glass in the office twice a day.”

  “I won’t give him the suggestion, just in case he thinks I’m serious.” He winked at me, which made me want to know more about him. I asked about his family, but he didn’t say much. I wanted to ask about his hiatus from my life—what had caused him to check out for so many weeks?—but I didn’t want any drama, so I saved that topic for another date.

  Another date. I was actually thinking about going on a second real date with a man I cared about—not just meeting for drinks where we both downplayed that it was an actual date. A man who made me feel special. It had been forever and a day since I’d had a real date with a real man…and even then, I was always playing second fiddle behind Chase’s ego—my former boyfriend who only acted like we were connected when he wanted something.

  “Saul Modesto, can you tell me what you’re doing here with this…chica?”

  With my mind drifting amongst the proverbial clouds, it took a moment to snap out of my daze. I looked up to see a pair of lips that could have been on a poster against the use of Botox. Daffy Duck would have been turned on by the size of those flappers. But even he would have plugged his ears from the screech that I’d just heard.

  Before I could glance back to Saul, a younger woman appeared beside Miz Lips, a hand planted on her shapely hip.

  “Yes, Saul, tell me what you’re doing with this b—”

  “We’re in public, Carmelita,” the older woman said, extending a hand with an obvious set of fake fingernails, extra-long and pointy. “Let’s not embarrass ourselves, especially when someone else has some explaining to do.”

  Both ladies and I turned to Saul, who stumbled to his feet, blushing. There was a moment of silence as he gestured toward me, opening his lips. But nothing came out.

  “I…” he blurted. “I’m just having a little dinner with a friend of mine. This is Ivy,” he said with as much pleasantness as he could muster.

  I could feel my leg start to kick under the table. A moment ago he was winking, making me feel like I was the center of his universe. I gave the younger woman a quick once-over. By anyone’s standards, she was stunning—her hair glistened like ripples from a black stream of water. Her complexion was flawless and the figure…well, I could already see every guy sitting around us adjust their sights to ogle her skin-tight, tiger-print pants.

  “Hi,” I said abruptly, then tipped back my martini glass to down the last few sips.

  “Ah, is she one of those, Saul?” Carmelita said.

  “One of those what?” My hands were flat on the table, ready to push myself up and defend myself from disrespectful date-crashers. Her response was to pretend to down a drink, tilting her head back. She was calling me a lush.

  “Excuse me?” I asked at a higher octave.

  Saul said, “Ladies, please, this is just a misunderstanding. Let’s—”

  “A misunderstanding?” the older woman said, a mocking smile tugging her oversized lips higher at the corners. “Tell me, son, what kind of misunderstanding would have you dining with another woman when you are committed to the darling Carmelita?”

  Son? Miz Lips is his mother?

  And who the hell is Carmelita?

  “Yes, tell me Saul, what kind of commitment you have with Carmelita,” I said, flipping my napkin onto the table.

  “It’s not like that,” he said, looking like a begging dog.

  “Tell me what it’s like then. I’m really curious.” I waited, crossing my arms as the thump of my heart pinged my arm. “Uh…” he muttered.

  “Come on now, Saul,” his mom said, tapping his shoulder. “Now’s not the time to have one of your little boy panic attacks. It’s time to be a grown man and explain your behavior to those who truly care about you.”

  That was another dig. I shifted my eyes until they were locked on the two ladies who were presiding over this kangaroo court. I could feel my jaw sticking out, any number of words at the edge of my tongue.

  “Well…” He began to rock from side to side as he weighed his response, the lines on his face deepening with worry. He looked like he’d aged ten years in ten minutes. His eyes moved from his mom to Carmelita and then to me, where he held his gaze for an extra second.

  Our waiter stuck his head in the middle of the volley. “Would the ladies like for me to add a couple of chairs to join the happy couple?”

  Carmelita smacked her hand on her stretch pants. “Happy couple,” she repeated, her eyes narrowing into tiny slits.

  The waiter dipped his head and walked off.

  Perspiration beaded on Saul’s forehead, and he wiped his sleeve across his face.

  “It sucks to be caught in the act, doesn’t it, Saul?” his mom said with a wry smile.

  “You don’t—”

&nb
sp; “But that’s okay, Saul,” she said before he could finish. “We’re all imperfect in God’s eyes. Now is the time to confess your sins. You can learn from your mistakes and grow to be a better person. A better husband to Carmelita,” she said, putting her arm around the younger girl. She grinned, or at least I thought I detected something like a smile on her face. “And hopefully in the not so distant future, a great father.”

  Sins…a husband…father. What the hell had I walked into?

  “Okay, okay,” he said. “I have to set some things straight.”

  “Do tell, Saul,” Carmelita said.

  “It’s true, I did date you, Carmelita,” he said, looking at her, then over to me.

  “You bet your ass we dated. And that’s not all we did. Don’t you remember that night after we went dancing? Oh my,” she said, fanning herself.

  “But it’s not like that now, Carmelita. I broke it off with you a couple of weeks ago.”

  Tilting her head, she swallowed once. “Those were not the words you used, Saul. You said you needed time to think things over before you commit the rest of your life to loving me.”

  “I don’t think I said it that way. In fact, I know I didn’t.” His eyes settled on me again, but it was obvious which wheel I was in this conversation, in his life. Or should I say his double life?

  I pushed my chair back and got to my feet. I could feel Carmelita’s eyes now give me the once-over.

  “Don’t leave, Ivy.”

  “Ivy?” Carmelita sashayed her hip. “Tell me you’re not out with some skank named Ivy. Poison Ivy, if you ask me.”

  I took a step in her direction, ramming my leg into the chair. “No one is going to call me names.” Before I knew it, Saul was standing between us.

  “Ladies, please. This is my fault.”

  “Damn straight it is, son. What are you going to do about it?” his mom asked, hovering so close I could smell her pungent perfume.

  He looked at me, his dreamy eyes now stormy with distress. “It’s true, I dated Carmelita for a little while.”

  “You call three years a little while?” Carmelita interjected.

  My kidneys took imaginary punches each time Saul modified the truth…otherwise known as lying.

  “That’s not true, Carmelita, and you know it.”

  Her lips drew a straight line as Saul continued. “We dated off and on for three years. But each time I went out with you, Ivy, I was unattached. I swear on a stack of Bibles.”

  “Don’t bring the Lord’s name into this sordid mess,” his mom said.

  Saul hadn’t, but I wasn’t about to take up for him at this point.

  He blew out a tired breath. The blue shadows under his eyes looked like anchors. “I enjoyed my time with you, Carmelita, but I don’t think we are meant to be together.”

  “You’re not thinking clearly,” his mom said. “Your mind is wrapped into this Poison Ivy person. You need to come to church, appreciate your family. That’s what’s missing; you’ve clearly forgotten how special your family is. And that includes our blessed Carmelita.”

  Was this woman getting some type of kickback from Carmelita’s parents? This was bordering on ridiculous. But I still wasn’t about to let Saul off the hook.

  “Momma, you’ve been a great mother to me and my siblings. But I have to make my own choices in life now. And as special as Carmelita is, I’ve chosen to move on. I hope you’ll respect my decision.”

  Carmelita raised her chin. “You have no idea what you’re passing up.” She spun on her heels and marched across the stone patio toward the front door of the restaurant.

  “Saul,” his mother said, clenching her jaw. First she glared at me, then she turned to her son. “I’ll deal with you later. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.” She swooshed out of our space in no time, calling out Carmelita’s name.

  Saul and I both blew out a breath.

  “Sorry,” he said, two hands on the back of the chair. “I can’t believe I let myself get into this mess.” He looked at me with sad eyes.

  “I’m ready to go home.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re mad at me too? I was trying to explain to them that you’re the girl I want to be with, not Carmelita. What did I do?”

  “I don’t like being treated like a commodity, Saul, regardless of what you think you said. I have work to get done. I should have trusted my instincts and just stayed home. I won’t make that mistake again next time.”

  He ushered me home, and neither of us said a word until he turned off the engine in the parking lot of my apartment.

  “Don’t bother. You’re not coming up. You’ve got some real thinking to do. And so do I.”

  “It’s just that Momma can put a lot of pressure on me. She plays that guilt card really well. Carmelita and I have known each other since we were young kids. And our parents know each other. It almost felt like an arranged marriage. But you’ve got to know I wasn’t going to follow through with it.”

  I’d already started processing how to tackle the five PALs, my mind not ready to play this dating game of chess, especially not with another woman involved. “This isn’t going to happen, Saul. It’s time to move on.”

  I shut the car door and walked into my apartment all by myself.

  15

  Rounding the corner, my eyes first spotted yellow tape outside of my apartment. Then I noticed there was no guard. Stan must have assumed I would reach out to him if I didn’t go to Zahera’s for the night. And Zahera probably had a similar thought from her perspective. I’d been so enamored with Saul that I hadn’t given it much thought. Until now. But I had work to get done, so any decisions on changing my sleeping location would have to wait another day.

  I stopped just before reaching my door and stared at the outline of blood soaked into the charcoal industrial carpet. I allowed myself to envision Joanna’s final moments clinging to life. She’d been strangled, and then her head shoved in a burlap sack…with a hungry rat stuck inside.

  Closing my eyes, I couldn’t help but put myself in her position. Oxygen already depleted, my head is then covered with a bag. I hear a wretched squeal at the exact same moment I feel the prickly claws of the rodent digging into my skin, followed immediately by sharp teeth gnawing, burrowing into my body. Somewhere in the sheer panic of realizing what was happening as I flail on the ground, the rat’s teeth sever my spinal cord, rendering me helpless as I hear it eating my flesh, drinking my blood. I beg for mercy, but no words come out. As my body somehow keeps my mind awake, my last thoughts aren’t about those I care about, but instead a rodent that is tunneling through my organs.

  I grunted out a breath, my throat as dry as cotton. Without another thought, I quickly hurried inside and secured all three locks. Zorro hopped on the kitchen table and meowed. I first poured myself a large glass of water and downed half of it, then fed Zorro so he would stop pestering me.

  As I changed clothes, my hearing played tricks on the rest of my mind. After ignoring four other sounds, I would have sworn I heard footfalls across the floor in the living room. I froze, not even a breath. I waited a moment, then tiptoed to the door and leaned out to see the place empty, other than Zorro who’d parked his butt on the arm of the sofa.

  “Lazy ass,” I said, if only to rid my mind of the imaginary noises.

  I slipped on my PJs, a homely nightgown that would have sent even the most fervent admirer running the other way. I chose the ensemble on purpose, just to show the Saul’s of the world that I wasn’t keen on being played or lied to.

  Grabbing my water, I stopped and scratched Zorro’s ear—his back leg quivered like a dog’s, which always cracked me up—and scooted over to my laptop. The virtual whiteboard lit up my screen. With the names of the five PALs in no particular order, I started with the youngest at the time of my interaction with him: Jesse Steele.

  He was only twenty-six when he and his wife, Maggie, took me in as a foster child. I was eleven, although I’d already seen more than most twenty-yea
r-olds. Jesse was ruggedly handsome; a straw-colored beard clipped close to his face accentuated his almond-shaped eyes. He worked on a ranch, his hands powerful yet gentle whenever he picked me up and tickled me.

  But I’d quickly learned that was only a show for Maggie, four years his senior. One day after school, I found him naked as a jailbird, knee-deep in porn magazines. He didn’t try to hide it. He said he’d accepted that part of his life, and he was good with it. I tried walking away, but try was all I could do. He abused me that afternoon, although he never hit me. His sheer strength was so evident it was easy for me to see who had the upper hand. I gave in, which only added to my self-loathing.

  While I had to endure another ten episodes with Jesse, my hell lasted for about three weeks. Maggie came home early and caught him in the act. She called the cops and had him arrested. I was relieved and thankful. But she wanted nothing to do with me.

  “You’ve ruined my marriage, Ivy. Because of you, I’ll never trust men again,” she had said. “You need to go. To another home, to another town. Anywhere but here. I can’t stand to look at you another minute longer.”

  Rubbing my eyes, I blocked the memories from doing more damage and started the search process on my computer. I found no less than fifteen men with that same name living in the state of Texas. I knocked the first three off the list because of age—they were in their twenties. Jesse would be forty-four by now. Running through the list, two more were in their seventies. I was down to ten Jesse Steeles.

  One was mayor of a small East Texas town. His mug shot on the town website showed a man with more pockmarks than the moon. I crossed him off the list.

  For the moment, I decided to move in a different direction. Using a couple of websites for which I paid a monthly subscription, I could determine if someone was currently incarcerated or had ever served time in the state. If they’d served time outside of the state, the information was spotty at best.

  I typed in his name and clicked the blue search button.

  Two Jesse Steeles came back. One was a man who served three years for drug distribution. He currently lived in Oklahoma City. I knew it wasn’t THE Jesse Steele because, once I clicked on his name, I saw his most recent mug shot. He had red hair and freckles.