“Isn’t Lancaster around here somewhere?” Sam asked abruptly.
Lacey cut a sideways look at him. “It’s a bit further west.” She hooked a thumb to her left. “Why?”
“Just thinking,” he said casually. “Wondering if you want to stop and see your ex.”
Lacey snorted. “Not hardly. The California State Prison is not my idea of a destination resort. And I saw plenty of him back in April when he asked me to check on his mom.”
Sam was silent again, and that bothered Lacey. What was going on in that stoic Native American brain?
“Why would you think that?” she asked.
He turned away from her, staring out the side window, and sipped the last of his coffee. When he faced front again, he kept his eyes on the road. “I did wonder, back then, if seeing him again, might… rekindle old feelings.”
It was a good thing Lacey had her coffee cup wedged between her thighs, because if she were holding it, she might have dropped it. Instead she just flexed her grip on the wheel.
“Not hardly,” she said again. “Unless you count the old feelings of anger, disgust and betrayal.”
“Yeah. I guess those would outweigh the other feelings, huh?” he asked.
“You bet. I was blind to his criminal activities for years. I’m never going back to that.”
Sam looked over. “Good.”
They drove in silence for several minutes before Lacey switched subjects to get them back to the present. “So I got us a room at one of the ordinary chain hotels,” she said.
“What?” he joked. “No Stratosphere? No Luxor?”
“Nope. We can visit those if you want; we’ll be just off the Strip. I actually got us a two-bedroom suite. That way we can work the case together without having to travel back and forth between rooms.”
“Won’t that be expensive?” he asked.
Lacey laughed. “Are you kidding? It’s June. Who goes to Vegas in June? All the hotels are running gonga deals. We’ll be fine.”
They stopped in Barstow for an early lunch, then set off across the Mojave Desert. After the power and otherworldly beauty of the Navajo reservation, perched at the edge of the Painted Desert, the Mojave was slightly less awe-inspiring. Low hills and bluffs went on forever, studded with creosote and the weird-looking Joshua trees. With multiple arms covered with loose woody fringe, and the tips of those arms bristling with new, spiky growth, they looked like Dr. Seuss creations rather than actual trees.
What was it about working these cases with Sam that always took them to strange and weird places?
They crossed the border into Nevada and saw the first outer edges of the Las Vegas sprawl by late afternoon. In the bright light of day, it looked like any other city of rambling neighborhoods with the spires of taller commercial buildings punching up into the sky. Without the dark canvas of night as a setting for its sparkling gems, the magic of Vegas was revealed for what it was: steel and concrete and manic concoctions of electric lights.
“You ever been here?” Sam asked.
“Sure,” she said. “But it’s been years. You?”
“Oh, yeah. I got married here.”
“Really?” Lacey’s head snapped around so fast, she almost got dizzy. She tried to imagine the stoic Navajo standing up in one of those garish, neon-lit chapels, but failed.
He didn’t meet her eyes. “Christine was pregnant. It was the expedient thing to do.”
Lacey turned back to the road and tried to think of something to say. I’m sorry? How do you respond to something like that?
“Oh,” she said finally.
“You’re not the only one who made mistakes,” he said.
Lacey was quiet for several minutes. She calculated mentally. Daniel was thirteen now. Sam would have been about twenty-six back then. No frivolous teenager, but still with room to grow and mature.
“Well,” she offered lamely, “at least you got two great kids out of it.”
“Yeah,” he said. “There is that.”
They plunged into the urban sprawl that was Las Vegas. As they drove up the Strip, Lacey was aware of the bigger, taller hotels that blocked out the rest of the city. Excalibur, the Bellagio, the Stratosphere, all intercut with chain stores, pawn shops and wedding chapels. Capitalism on steroids.
“Jeez, every time I see it, I think it can’t get any more crass or overblown, but then it does. I think the hydroelectric power used here in a day could run hundreds of small towns for months.”
“Or the Navajo reservation for years,” Sam agreed.
They finally came to the end of the gauntlet of huge hotels and began to see more modest establishments. Lacey picked out the one she’d reserved, a nice-looking three story.
“There it is,” she said, moving into the right lane so she could turn in.
“Cozy Suites,” Sam read on the sign. He arched an eyebrow at Lacey. “Cozy?”
“Hey, it’s better than gold lamé toilets and an ‘Elvis slept here’ sign.”
She parked her car by the front door and they went in to register. The blast of hot air outside the car reminded them they were in the desert. Key cards in hand, they carried their few bags up to their room on the second floor.
Sam let Lacey go in first, but followed behind her with a whistle. “Hey,” he said, “not bad.”
“Not bad at all,” Lacey agreed. The front area was not huge, but it held a living room cluster of a couch and two chairs all centered around a large-screen TV. To the side was a dining room table with six chairs. The “kitchen” lined one wall: refrigerator, microwave, stove and sink. Lacey went to explore the left bedroom and found a king bed with a sofa bed to one side, plus the private bath with all the amenities. She was sure Sam’s side was the mirror image.
They met up again in the front room.
“Okay by you?” she asked.
“Yeah. Pretty slick, really.”
“Good.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s early yet. I think I’ll hang up my clothes and stuff, then we can think about dinner.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Sam agreed.
Thirty minutes later, Lacey emerged from her bedroom and found Sam investigating the cupboards in the kitchen. “We’ve got just about everything we need here,” he said. “We could go to the market and buy stuff to cook, if we want. Might save us a few bucks.”
“That’s an idea,” she said, joining him. “It used to be that eating out was really cheap in Vegas, because all the places only cared about luring in customers to gamble, but not anymore. So, yeah, we could pick up some stuff that’s easy to fix. Derrick and I did that when we went to Hawaii. Rented a condo and ate most of our meals in. Really helped to stretch the dollars.”
Sam stood silent for a heartbeat, then moved away. “Maybe we can find a store on our way back after dinner,” he said.
“Sure.” She closed the cabinet they’d been perusing. “Are you in a hurry? I’d like to shower before we go. Clean off the grime of sitting in the car all day. Yuck.”
“Good idea,” he said.
Forty-five more minutes later, Lacey emerged from her bedroom to find Sam standing in the living room, TV on, going through the channels. He had on black jeans and a dark purple t-shirt, his wet hair slicked back in the familiar ponytail. Lacey noticed he was wearing his cowboy boots rather than the high soft moccasins he often wore during his “walks.”
They hadn’t discussed what kind of restaurant they’d go to, so she was glad to see he had opted for informal, as she had. She wore blue jeans and a simple turquoise cap-sleeved shirt, tucked in as a gesture of formality. Luckily Vegas, like LA, allowed for all types of dress.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He clicked off the TV and turned toward her, his eyes taking in her fresh-scrubbed freckled face and trim figure. “You clean up pretty good for a P.I.,” he said.
“You’re no slouch yourself,” she joked, “for a medium. What are you in the mood for?” She slid the strap of her purse over her sho
ulder and dug into it for the car keys. When she finally found them, she noticed Sam’s lack of response. She looked up to find him staring at her thoughtfully.
“You pick,” he said. He turned for the door and held it for her as she hurried to catch up.
Down in the car, she pulled to the edge of the driveway and looked both ways for flashing neon recommendations. “I guess back down the Strip, huh?” she mused.
“Sure,” Sam said. “Looks like all the choices are that way, anyway.”
Lacey propelled her little car down the boulevard, which was getting considerably more crowded now than it had been at mid-afternoon. Although the sun hadn’t yet set, all the lights of Vegas were already on, imploring the pair with flashing, dancing colors to eat here, gamble there, see a show here.
“Jeez,” Lacey said. “Hard to pick out one thing in all this. Holler if you see something that looks good.”
“How about Mexican?” he asked abruptly. “The red and green sign coming up on the right.”
Lacey saw it and put on her blinker. She was already in the right lane and eased toward the driveway as they neared it. She noticed when she pulled in that there were a few parking places open, but not many. Must be an okay place, she thought.
Sam led the way in, holding the door for her. The hostess immediately took them to a booth in the back. The walls were terracotta pink and set with small shelves that held multicolored pots of cactus. Mexican tin stars hung over every table, the light from within escaping delicately through the filigree holes in the tin.
“Remind you of anything?” Sam said as he pointed his menu at the light.
“Oh, yeah,” Lacey said, laughing. “After clearing that mansion in Hollywood, I’ll never look at tin stars the same way again.” The mansion had been decorated with a Mexican theme, the tin stars providing light as well as focal points in almost every room. The stars were a common decorating item in Southern California, and would forever remind her of that interesting case.
“Your research on that case was what really cracked it open,” he said. “I don’t know if I told you that before, but it’s true.”
“Well,” she hedged, feeling both pleased and embarrassed by the praise. “It was definitely a team effort. We’re getting pretty good at this, aren’t we?” She beamed at him.
Just then a waitress came to take their orders. Lacey ordered a taco salad while Sam got a combination plate. The waitress read back the order to confirm it, then headed for the kitchen.
“And speaking of cases,” Lacey said, “have you felt anything since we’ve been here? Any—I don’t know—connections?”
Sam shook his head. “No. At least I don’t think so. I feel like a cat with its whiskers poised, and my nerves are kind of jangled, but I think that’s just my own adrenaline. I don’t think it’s Kyle. Not yet.”
Lacey nodded, sipping her water. “I guess we both hoped that once we got here, he’d make himself known to you right away. There’s always tonight, though.”
“Yeah. I definitely expect to have a visitor tonight.”
Lacey agreed. She had no idea how ghosts did anything that they did, but she was fairly sure Kyle would know Sam was here and get in touch with him.
“Do you have any ideas about what we ought to do tomorrow?” she asked.
“I think we should drive to the places Kyle frequented, see if I can pick up anything from the energy there.”
“You’ve got the addresses?” she queried.
“Yeah. Christine got them all from Courtney.”
“I bought a map of Vegas yesterday, so maybe tonight we can sit down and plot out where we want to go.”
“Good idea,” he said. “That’ll save us from having to print out Google maps.” He smiled.
“And,” she continued, “I thought I’d take a run down to the police station and check with my contacts there. Let them both know I’m in town, see if they’ve heard anything at all. I doubt it; I left each of them my number, and haven’t heard a thing, but it won’t hurt to go talk to them face to face.”
Just then their food arrived. The waitress slid huge plates in front of each of them.
“Get you anything else?” she asked.
“Don’t think so,” Lacey said. “Looks good.”
“Enjoy.”
They ate in companionable silence for a moment, each testing and tasting their dinners. The food did not disappoint.
“So tell me about Kyle,” Lacey said. “What kind of guy was he? Was he always in trouble?”
Sam shook his head. “Oh, no, he was a good kid. When I first met him, he was about twelve or thirteen, I think. For some reason he took an immediate liking to me and wanted nothing more than to be my sidekick. Drove Christine crazy.”
“I’ll bet,” Lacey said. “Makes sense, though, if his father left the scene early. He was probably starved for male companionship.”
“Yeah, I thought so, too. Like I said, he was a good kid, had a good heart, but he was very into short cuts. Always looking for the easy way out.”
“Not one to roll up his sleeves and tackle the hard jobs?” Lacey surmised.
“Not at all,” Sam said. “If he could figure any way out of work, he would. Unfortunately, those short cuts got more and more convoluted, and the consequences got more serious.”
“In over his head probably before he knew it. That’s too bad. I hate to see someone go down that road just out of inattention or laziness. Waste of a good life.”
Sam’s silence seemed like agreement to Lacey. She thought again about the fact that Christine had tried to help, in her way, but failed. Lacey wondered if Sam felt some guilt, as well. Once he and Christine had married and had their first child, they were no doubt too busy to keep tabs on Kyle.
“Well,” Lacey said finally, “we’ll hope we can find him so he can rest at peace. The rest of it, I guess, he’ll have to take up with the powers that be.”
If Sam were going to respond, it got cut off by the ring tone of his phone. He pulled the gadget from his pocket and checked the screen. Lifting his eyes to Lacey, he said, “Courtney,” and answered the call.
She tried not to listen intently. It actually wasn’t that difficult, as most of Sam’s side of the conversation were one-word responses or simple questions.
“Uh huh… yeah. Where are you?” he asked. “When? ... Tonight? … We’ve got a room. It’s the…” He swung his gaze to Lacey again. “Cozy Suites? Let me see if we have the address.”
As soon as Lacey heard him say the name of the hotel, she dug into her wallet for the business card she’d taken from the front desk. She slid it across the table to him and heard him read off the address, then he pushed the card back to her.
“What time is it now?” he asked. Courtney must not have known, because he reached across the table and took Lacey’s wrist, turning her watch face so he could read it. “It’s a quarter to seven. An hour? Okay, good. We’ll be there.” He hung up the phone and laid it beside his plate.
“We’re meeting her tonight?” Lacey queried.
“Yeah. That okay?”
“Sure. We need as much info as we can get.”
“She sounds pretty frazzled. Scared. Almost started to cry.” He went back to his dinner but seemed to have lost his enthusiasm for it.
Lacey was reaching her limit, anyway. She took a couple more bites, then pushed her plate away.
“If we’re meeting her in an hour, we’ve got time to stop by the store and pick up a few things. Tomorrow we can plan our meals out a little better.”
“Good idea,” Sam said. He signaled their waitress.
~~~
SIX
By the time they got back to their room, they only had a few minutes to spare. Lacey put sodas and bottled water in the fridge, along with some lunch meat and sliced cheese. She tossed bread and a bag of chips in a cupboard, and stowed a carton of ice cream in the freezer.
She’d no sooner taken her purse into her bedroom when she heard a knock
on the door. She heard Sam open it, a few seconds of murmured conversation, then silence.
Her curiosity piqued, she strode to her door and looked out into the living room.
Sam was standing with his back to her, quietly holding a tall, thin girl. Her arms were around his waist, and her dark head was burrowed into his shoulder. Neither spoke, just holding each other and breathing.
For a moment, Lacey just gaped at them, feeling stupid with shocked surprise. The scene was so tender, so intimate, she almost felt like a voyeur watching them. When she finally roused herself, a needle of anger worked its way in. She was Sam’s partner. They were working this case together. She had every right to be here.
She flipped the switch on the wall next to her and lit up the living room. The change from darkness to light was almost audible.
Sam’s head turned Lacey’s way, but he didn’t release Courtney. He murmured something to the girl, then finally untangled her arms from around him and turned her toward the living area. He led her to the couch, and Lacey met them there.
“Courtney,” he said, “this is my partner, Lacey Fitzpatrick. Lacey, Courtney Desmond.”
Lacey stuck out her hand. Courtney hesitated, as if moving her own arm outward would break the fragile physical connection with Sam. Finally she put out her hand and shook tentatively.
“Nice to meet you,” Lacey said. She motioned toward the couch. “Please, sit down.”
Courtney sat on the couch and Sam took the seat beside her. As Lacey settled into the chair to one side, she noticed Sam’s arm across the back of the couch, and Courtney snuggling up close underneath it.
Lacey’s jaw tightened. She couldn’t help but compare herself to Courtney, and she came out distinctly lacking. The girl was several inches taller than Lacey’s five foot four, and was as thin as a model. She wore a tank top and short shorts, and had legs that went clear up to her chin, it seemed. Her short dark hair curled softly around her face, accenting her wide, blue eyes. What was she, twenty-five or twenty-six? Lacey was only thirty-two, and kept herself in shape, but suddenly she felt like a middle-aged frump. She sucked in her stomach and wondered how long she could hold it.
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