Dance of Deception

by Trish Reeb

Marching up to him, she saluted. "Ms. T reporting for duty."

  Cole shifted his eyes in the direction of Chandra Garrett’s office. The woman stood at the door watching. Alex bent over to unlock the door, using the key attached the cord hanging from her neck. Cole stared at her nicely shaped tush and quickly glanced away.

  Once inside the room, he closed the door. "Be careful what you say, Alex. Some people will use information against you."

  "Especially that one." She rolled her eyes. "What’s up?"

  He arranged the chairs on an angle and tapped the back of one. "Sit. We’ll get to that in a minute. I need to ask you something about Taryn."

  "What more do you need to know?"

  "About her relationship with Martindale."

  Alex shifted in her seat. "Not much to tell. He’d been bugging her to go out. Taryn resisted because of Jordan. But she couldn’t get him out of her head." She shrugged. "I suggested she go out once. No harm in one date."

  She scrunched up her face. "Remember when you asked me about Jordan? I've been feeling a little, no a lot, uneasy about him. Lately I’ve wondered if it’s . . . jealousy." Alex reached for a paperclip on the desk. She bent it open and straightened the rounded edges.

  "Go on," Cole said, leaning forward.

  She played with the paperclip until it snapped in two and tossed the pieces into the waste can. They landed in a double kerplunk. She rose and paced. "This isn’t easy for me to say." She dropped her eyes. "Taryn and I did everything together, for over two years." She pivoted to face him. "Then she met Jordan." Her lip quivered. "And, everything changed." She plopped onto a chair. "Still best friends according to Taryn, but we rarely spent time together any more. I never considered what would happen if one of us fell in love." Her eyes welled. "This sounds so lame."

  "Your life upended," Cole said softly.

  Alex nodded. "Instead of filling the void, I waited, hoping they’d break up, I guess. It wasn’t fair to either of us." She sighed. "I wasn’t consciously doing this and didn’t realize it until after Taryn . . . died."

  "You’re afraid you’ve projected your feelings onto Jordan, making him suspect."

  She fidgeted in her seat. "It’s possible." Alex rose again, pacing back and forth. "If he found out Taryn went out with Martindale—"

  "It could be motive for murder."

  Alex put a hand to her heart. "God, it’s my fault. I encouraged her to go." She paused. "I signed her death warrant."

  Cole lifted his hand. "Whoa. We’re talking here. It’s not an indictment against anyone." Just what he needed—Alex going off on a guilt trip. "You were helping a friend."

  She let out a huge sigh. "Okay." She appeared thoughtful. "Besides, what about the other leads? Jada, Mercedes, Sami, rd, and the note? There's got to be more to Taryn’s murder than a love triangle."

  He groaned inwardly. "Wait a minute. RD? What note?" Cole stared at her. "You holding out on me?"

  She flushed. "I intended to tell you."

  "Never mind. Let’s hear it.”

  Alex explained how she received the two messages and described their contents.

  "Let’s have them." He extended his hand. Tempted to snap his fingers, he refrained. Actually, he should direct the anger at himself for not accepting people for who they were instead of who he wanted them to be. First Burk, now Alex.

  She retrieved her phone from the drawer in the file cabinet and showed him the text message. "I ripped up the other one and threw it in there." She pointed to the wastebasket.

  Cole stared at the broken paperclip in the otherwise empty trash container. "What the hell did you do that for?"

  "It ticked me off."

  He glared at her. "You destroyed evidence."

  Cole extracted the cell phone from his pocket, hit a number, and pressed the mobile to his ear. Picking up a pencil, he tapped it on the desk. "Hey, need a crew over at Lincoln High ASAP. Have them report to the main office. Thanks."

  He closed the phone. "We’ll find it."

  "I found a few leads on rd." First Alex told him about Arjay’s conclusion, that it could possibly be a drama student, and finally her thoughts on Robert Dunlap, Taryn’s department head.

  Your blood and the blood of your brethren will stain the soil of the land. Shakespearean. Since the drama club had been practicing Macbeth, Alex’s conjecture did make sense. Something to look into, but it didn’t explain Jada’s death or Mercedes’s fear. And neither girl had been in the drama club. "Alex, whoever wrote this is playing you. Manipulating you like a frigging marionette. What we don’t know is why."

  "Do you think he means it? What he said in the note?" Alex cracked a knuckle.

  Cole raised a hand.

  "Sorry." She sat on her hands.

  "Game or not, we take him seriously."

  "So what do we do?" Alex peered at him.

  What he wanted to do and what he needed to do didn't jibe. "Until you hear different, our deal’s off the table."

  Her face fell. "No! You can’t. I’m in the perfect position to feed you information."

  "Except you didn’t. I told you to call me if something came up." He studied her face, trying to understand. "Why didn’t you—"

  "I put it on my to-do list, honest. First I wanted to—"

  "You’re off the case." She’d broken every one of the goddamn ground rules and on the first day. He couldn’t dispute the fact her proximity placed her in a prime position. He shook his head. Too risky. If anything happened to her, it’d be on him. He couldn’t live with that. Besides, she’d proven herself untrustworthy. If she failed to follow the ground rules on Day One she’d never comply no matter how many times she promised to the contrary. On the other hand, he doubted she would obey this order either. She'd been dropped into the middle of the case, like it or not. Still, he had to do the right thing.

  She appeared thoughtful, straightened her shoulders. "In your position," she lifted her chin, "I’d do the same."

  "Good." If only he believed it. "Until we know who sent you the note, we need to sit on it."

  "What about my brother? And Bobbi. Or Ellery. Shouldn't we warn them?"

  "We don't know who we're dealing with, who's behind it."

  "Are you saying they’re suspects?" She lifted wide eyes.

  "At this point, everyone is a suspect."

  She seemed to ponder for a second. "Why am I not a suspect?"

  Good question. "Should you be?"

  "Don’t be ridiculous. I want to catch that monster as much, if not more, than you do. You’re doing your job. To me, it’s personal." She jumped up and paced again.

  He patted the chair. "Sit, try to relax. Tell me about Taryn."

  Alex obeyed, for a change. "She was," she hugged herself, "so sweet, fun-loving. The girl could make a trip to the dentist a blast." She giggled. "Now I sound like my mother." She closed her eyes for a few seconds, as if lost in the past. "We adored musicals. I introduced her to them. We had our favorites, but after seeing Miss Saigon? We were hooked. That first time, we bawled our eyes out." She smiled. "We had one tissue between us." Alex snorted. "We passed the thing back and forth until it turned into a soggy mess. Now, that goes beyond friendship." She put a hand to her heart. "God, I miss her. It feels like there's a hole in my heart."

  "Detective Colton Grant, please report to the main office," Mrs. Evans announced over the loudspeaker.

  He touched Alex’s shoulder. "Gotta go," he said softly. "Are you going to be all right?"

  She nodded.

  "I’ll call you."

  CHAPTER 36

  Alex leaned back in the chair after Cole left. The lift she’d experienced from reliving the Miss Saigon story faded. Her mood regressed to normal—and normal for her these days was like having a stone in her shoe, able to walk around but mindful of the pain.

  Cole sure knew how to burst her bubble. Just when she'd made progress, actually getting somewhere, he fired her. She slapped the desk. Throwing away the note had been stupid. Of
course he’d want to check it for fingerprints. Besides, good detectives didn’t get emotional and toss out clues. Now, because of her, he faced digging through a mountain of garbage.

  He’d fired her, he said, to protect her personal safety. In reality, he'd handed her a pink slip because she’d broken every ground rule he’d established. She hadn't planned it that way. As soon as she discovered something solid, she would have called him. The only problem? Whether she worked for him or not, she’d still have to watch her back. Taking away her mole status hadn’t diminished the danger. He might have yanked her off the case, but she’d never been one to walk out in the middle of a musical.

  Alex worked late to make up for what little she accomplished during the day. At four-thirty, she donned her coat. She unlocked the storage room to fetch a diet pop from the pint-size refrigerator and stared at the empty shelf. Funny, she could've sworn she had one left. Had someone, perhaps by the name of Chandra Garrett, broken into her stash? Now she’d have to stop by the vending machines in the lunchroom on her way out and buy whatever brand they had for sale. She didn’t care what she drank, as long as it was cold and wet. The drinking fountains were useless, they either didn't function or expelled lukewarm water.

  She left the counseling suite, keeping her eyes peeled for anyone suspicious looking. Passing a stairwell, she heard a faint cry echoing from the basement. She drifted over to the top step and listened.

  "OOF."

  Alex darted down the stairs.

  A six pack of boys in a circle slugged and stomped someone lying on the floor. Each time a foot or fist connected, a grunt or groan came from inside the ring.

  Alex bounded over to the closed door of the security office. She pounded on the door three times before running to the mêlée. "Stop it!" she screamed. Fumbling for her phone, she hit nine. "Leave him alone!" The phone to her ear, she used her free hand to try and pull a boy twice her size off the victim.

  He shoved her away and delivered another kick to their prey.

  The force sent her backward, but she managed to maintain her balance. "Help! They’re beating him," she yelled into the phone. "We're in the basement." She disconnected and shoved the phone into her pocket.

  "Someone help me!" Alex screamed, yanking on the arm of another brute. Pushing her way between two of the thugs, she gasped. "Arjay?" she whispered, recognizing the bronze shirt and brown pants.

  He lay on the floor, his knees bent to his chest, arms grasping his head. His whole body jerked every time a foot or fist landed; but, at the moment, no more grunts came from him.

  "You’re gonna kill him." Alex threw herself on top of Arjay.

  A dozen hands grabbed her.

  "Enough," a voice said.

  The boys let go of her and fled.

  Alex looked up at her savior.

  McGerald River stared back.

  She got off Arjay and patted his arm. "Don’t move. I’m calling—"

  Avoiding her eyes, Arjay shrank from her touch. Grunting through a pained expression, he slowly rose, using one arm to sit up. He rolled onto his knees.

  McGerald stuck out his hand.

  Ignoring it, Arjay pushed onto one leg, then the other. After a good quarter of a minute, he stood. He limped away without glancing at either of them.

  "Arjay, wait, I’ll drive you home," Alex called.

  He kept going.

  When she looked back, McGerald had disappeared. She hadn’t even thanked him.

  CHAPTER 37

  Cole, orchestrating the search outside, left as soon as Alex’s call came in. He arrived in time to catch McGerald River terminating the assault. Either the gangbangers had lost interest in the game or the boy had a great deal of influence. They hadn’t seemed fearful but didn’t need to be told twice either. No one gave the victim an extra thwack before leaving. When they spotted Cole, they sprinted off, holding up their jeans as they ran. Cole alerted his men, hoping to collar at least one of the offenders.

  He hustled over to Alex. "Did they hurt you?"

  Hands on her hips, she panted heavily. "If Mc-G hadn’t . . . come along . . . they would’ve. . . killed Arjay."

  "Did you get a good look at any of them?" He retrieved Alex’s bags from the floor and handed her the handbag.

  She shook her head. "Too busy . . . trying to pull them off Arjay. They . . . all looked alike." She could feel the hot flush on her face. "I mean, the way they dressed."

  He rendered a hard stare. "Thought I told you not to pursue."

  Her mouth opened. "And what? Stand by while they beat the crap out of him? I don’t think so."

  "Girl, if River hadn’t come along, no telling what they might've done to you."

  "I wish they had," she said softly, tears coming to her eyes.

  "Hey!" He touched her arm. "What’s this?"

  "I couldn’t stop them. I didn’t protect him." She stomped her foot. "Dammit! Why did they attack Arjay? He’s a good kid. He graduates this year."

  Cole shook his head. "You and I will never understand their kind of mentality."

  "This happens all the time." She paced. "Nothing’s done. The halls are as bad as ever. What will it take to get someone’s attention? If Taryn’s murder didn’t wake them up, what will?"

  "Come on. Let's go." Cole steered her toward the staircase.

  "I want to call Arjay’s mom to make sure he arrived home safely." She paused. "And then go to Mc-G’s place." She stared at him, her mind made up.

  "Mc-G?" He raised an eyebrow.

  "Oh, the name McGerald is too much."

  "Why go to his house?"

  "To thank him."

  "What about the next time you see him?"

  "If I wait, it won’t mean anything. It could be weeks before our paths cross," she said. "I think what he did verged on heroic."

  Cole rolled his eyes. "Want my take on it?"

  They climbed the stairs.

  "I’m worried about Arjay." She turned a troubled face to him. "He wouldn’t even look at me. I offered to drive him home and he hobbled away."

  He handed her his phone. "Call."

  She touched his arm. "Thanks, but my memory file, though vast, doesn’t contain my students’ phone numbers. We have to stop by my office. After I call, can we go?"

  What would it hurt? She’d been through a lot and, evidently, she thought it important to thank River. Besides, it would give him an opportunity to ask the kid a few questions, like how he managed to end the butt kicking without lifting a finger. And had he recognized any of the gangbangers?

  Alex placed the call.

  "Guess I'll wait until tomorrow to see how he is," she said, hanging up. "They kicked the crap out of him. He could’ve injured a kidney or his spleen. One of my kids ended up in the hospital last year when he got jumped."

  "Got home on his own. That’s a good sign" Cole said. "Let's go. I’ll drive."

  On the way out of the building, Alex insisted on stopping by the lunchroom for a soda pop only to find all three vending machines dry. Darkness had fallen by the time they shoved open the door.

  Ten minutes later, they cruised to a stop in front of McGerald River’s house, a brick bungalow in the middle of the block surrounded by defeated-looking homes. No car parked in the stunted drive of the dark house or on the street.

  "Doesn’t look like anyone’s home," Cole said, attempting to discourage Alex.

  "I can leave him a note." She dug into her schoolbag.

  Humor her, humor her, he thought.

  She rushed up the walk. On the porch, she leaned over the rail and peered into the living room window. A car approached. Cole followed it with his eyes, hoping to see River behind the wheel to end this trip verging on farcical. The vehicle passed without slowing. He returned his attention to where Alex had been standing. She had disappeared.

  CHAPTER 38

  Where the hell had that woman gone? The front room, dark when they arrived, now had light. Was an automatic timer the culprit or a petite brunet? C
ole left the car and marched up the drive. Why had he agreed to chase this altruistic whim anyway? Because you felt sorry for her.

  Reaching the side entrance, he peered through the storm door window into the kitchen. He groaned. Yanking the door open, he thrust his head inside. "Alex?"

  She appeared at the top of the short flight of stairs leading to the main floor, a mischievous grin on her face. "I found a key in the milkshoot."

  Cole shook his head. Milkshoots hadn't been in use since the fifties when milkmen still delivered bottles to the homes. Most had been sealed off. "What're you doing? Get out here before someone calls the cops."

  She giggled. "You are a cop."

  "Without a warrant, I’m breaking and entering just like you."

  "Go get one, I found something suspicious." She waved a hand. "Never mind, I want to show you." She put a bottle to her lips.

  "What’re you drinking?"

  She shrugged. "Tastes like fruit juice. I found it in the fridge."

  Cole threw her a disbelieving look. "You went into the man’s refrigerator?" He crossed the threshold and stood on the landing of the basement stairs, briefly staring into the darkness below.

  "Couldn't help it, I was dying of thirst." She offered him the bottle. "Want a taste?"

  He took the bottle of Fruity Punch and read the label. Not a brand he recognized.

  Alex licked her lips. "M-m." She snatched it back and gulped again.

  Cole shook his head. "You’re hopeless. Let’s get out of here."

  "First, I want to show you something." She waved him up the three steps into the kitchen.

  Sighing, he followed her into a small living room.

  "Look," she pointed, "it’s pure Italian leather."

  He stroked the smooth surface. "You dragged me in here to show me a couch?"

  "For your information, this sofa costs twenty-five thousand dollars. I know because I priced one recently." She clutched his sleeve. "Don’t you think there’s something wrong with this picture?"

  Cole had been in homes barren of furniture, but with a Cadillac parked in the drive. "So the uncle has a thing for furniture. Maybe he works a lot of overtime. My neighbor rakes in a hundred grand a year working the assembly line."