“Don’t I get a phone call or something?” My own voice made my head throb more. I ignored the pain for the chance at freedom. “What time is it? Is Detective Flores in yet?”
My arms waved like a stranded driver at a camera buzzing in the corner. “Is anyone paying attention? I could really use a drink.” My mouth was as dry as parchment from a desert cave. Though my burps tasted like stale beer. “Of water. I mean a drink of water.”
A door opened with an echoed bang at the end of the hallway, followed by the rhythmic clack of men’s dress shoes on the concrete floor. A uniformed officer accompanied Detective Collins to my cell. That was not who I hoped would come to my rescue. He obviously didn’t care for me much.
Collins munched on a kolache and sipped a steaming cup of coffee. Shit. Did that mean it was morning? How long had I been out? I was supposed to work today. I had to call Jeff to cover me. I’d have had no trouble asking if Flores had walked through that door. Collins intimidated me like my older brother always had.
With my arms crossed over my chest, I tried to sound contrite. “Can I make a phone call?”
The uniformed officer swung a set of keys in his hand as if he was just there to practice.
Collins brushed a crumb from his jacket. “I haven’t decided.”
My fists clenched against my ribs. “I have to make sure my store is covered.”
The older detective looked bored. “You should have thought of that before you broke into a crime scene—again. I’m ready to charge you.”
A long sip of the warm coffee looked like the nectar of the gods to me. This torture would totally work on me. Too bad I didn’t have anything to confess.
He continued his bad cop routine, an act I completely believed. “For some reason, Flores thinks you have something to offer.”
At some secret cue from Collins, the officer with the keys unlocked my cell. Collins moved toward the door he’d entered from, and I didn’t see any choice but to follow. He led me down a hallway to Flores standing in front of a door. I would have cried in relief if I hadn’t been so dehydrated.
A bit more of the evening came back and my arms dropped. “Did you get the ledger?” I asked Flores.
“You mean the ledger from the condo that you broke into and trashed. The same condo that is an active crime scene. The one that you contaminated so egregiously that we don’t know that any evidence found there will be allowed into court at all. Is that what you were referring to?”
My arms crossed back over my chest, but this time in supplication. “I might have been drinking.” Like that was any sort of excuse.
“Come with me.” Flores nodded at the officer, who unlocked the door.
On a small table was a plate of kolaches and two bottles of water. Off to the side was my purse, cell phone, and a set of gloves I knew I didn’t have on me last night. Flores must have provided the pair.
I turned as he started to close the door. “You believe me.”
His expression softened. “Let’s just say, I think you need to see this.”
My head titled in curiosity, but I decided to try listening. He closed the door behind him and I dived for a water bottle. The entire thing was almost drained before I realized there was someone sitting at the table on the other side of the two-way mirror. He looked familiar to me, but I couldn’t quite place him.
Collins had finished his kolache and reached for another. “You should keep it down. These rooms aren’t soundproof. It wasn’t in the budget.”
While I nibbled on fresh bread wrapped around cheese and sausage—it had to be the most delicious thing I’d ever eaten—Flores entered the adjoining interrogation room and sat down with his back to the mirror.
His voice came through a speaker in the wall, “We know you were with Cindy on the night of her murder.”
Cindy? Who was that? What did she have to do with the Albert Johnson case?
The guy crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. I couldn’t sense his emotions from here, but his fingers tapping on his elbows belied his show of confidence. He was nervous. “I was, along with every other girl on the team.”
I gasped and almost choked on a piece of sausage. Holy shit. That was the guy who murdered the diary girl. He gave her the necklace, and he couldn’t risk her telling his wife. He was her coach?
Flores stood and paced to the side of the table. “We know more than you think we do.” He placed an evidence bag with the necklace from the motel in front of the coach. “We’re running your fingerprints through the crime scene evidence. It’s only a matter of time before we have concrete proof. You can either tell us what happened now, or you can take your chances with the jury.”
The suspect’s face flushed pink as he rubbed his hands through his hair as if the correct response was hidden in the strands somewhere. “Look. I was sleeping with her, okay? It was wrong. I know that. She just kept coming on to me at every practice. I was weak. But I didn’t kill her.”
Flores looked at the mirror—at me. “Cindy said she wouldn’t tell anyone. She said no one would ever know.”
“How could you…?” The coach dropped his hands and stared with his mouth open.
Leaning toward his suspect, Flores’s voice rose in anger. “And you still held that pillow over Cindy’s face while she fought and scratched and screamed.” He grabbed the coach’s arm and yanked up his right sleeve. The skin was shredded with scratch marks.
The coach lost any semblance of control and collapsed on the table, bawling.
I froze at those familiar marks. It looked just like Albert’s killer, except those were fresh. He really had murdered someone before Albert. The kolache fell from my hand as I lost my appetite at the implication.
Flores slid a notepad and a pen to the coach and told him to start writing.
Collins whistled. “He’s smooth, isn’t he?” He studied me with a clenched jaw. “I wonder why Flores wanted you in here.”
His judgement made me feel vulnerable. I shrugged as I slipped the gloves over my exposed hands.
Flores opened the door and waved at me from the hallway. “Come on. I’ll take you home.” He tossed the evidence bag to Collins. “Will you finish this for me?”
Collins saluted with his coffee cup. “Whatever you say, boss.”
Waves of accomplishment flowed around Flores and swelled in my chest. The tickling in my toes and fingertips helped squash the uneasiness of my revelation. “So, you got him. That was fast.”
“Thanks to you.”
I swallowed a bit heavier than normal due to the lump in my throat. “Does that mean you’ll keep me informed of the Albert Johnson case?” I was sure I sounded desperate, because I was.
Flores nodded. “A deal’s a deal.”
If I was officially on the case, then I had to tell about the scars. “His arms. Those were defensive wounds, right?”
He picked up keys and his phone from his desk. “They were.”
“Remember the scars I said I saw on Albert’s killer’s arms?”
Flores looked at me from the corner of his eye as he led me to the parking lot. “A glimpse we still need to talk about. I’d like to know how you saw anything of the killer at all.”
The sun hit me from an angle as we left the building, but heat already radiated from the cement. It was going to be a scorcher today. I needed more water.
“I’ll tell you everything, now that you believe me.” He really did. I was full of more doubt than he was. I couldn’t believe that this professional questioner and presumer of guilt thought I had this curse, and I wasn’t just crazy or something. Maybe I should have told Gina and Amelia years ago. If Flores thought I was telling the truth, why wouldn’t they? “First, I think the scars were defensive wounds, but old ones. They looked just like the coach’s arms.”
“Interesting.” Flores beeped his car unlocked as he retrieved his phone to take more notes.
Which reminded me that Chipped should be opened soon. In my purse, my phone was as
helpful as a brick. “Can I borrow your phone right quick? My battery is dead.”
After I made sure Jeff had Chipped covered, I climbed into the passenger seat. “So, what’s next?”
“I take you home. I have a ton of paperwork and you,” his cheek twitched, “need a bath.”
“What? I don’t…” One whiff under my armpit made me grateful I’d finished that last bite first. Some combination of sweat and sex and stress resulted in a revolting odor. “Okay, you win. A serious scrubbing is in order.”
As we exited the parking lot, he added, “Oh, and if you ever break into a crime scene again, you’ll spend a lot more time behind those bars.”
Chapter Twenty
My still-damp hair smelled like vanilla as I woke up in my own bed this time. I wasn’t usually a day sleeper, but damn that rest felt good. My phone laid on my nightstand, but I’d forgotten to plug it in. With a kick of the sheets, I rolled out of bed to get the plug from the kitchen.
I didn’t know what I was supposed to be doing. Flores said he’d let me in, but what did that mean exactly?
A loud banging shook my door. A flash of glee from the brutal killer filled my mind and terrified me. What if he’d found me? Never one to carry a firearm, I might need to reconsider my stance.
“Fauna! Are you in there?” Amelia’s voice—angry but safe—shouted from the other side. The jingle of keys added to her frustrated tone.
A huge smile of relief creased my face as I unlatched the door and swung it open. Her keys still stuck in the lock, Amelia stormed in like a hurricane and grabbed me by both of my shoulders. I shuddered as her fear clenched through my muscles. As she inspected me, her fear morphed to fury. The pit of my stomach cramped. Based on her facial expressions, the tension of my muscles and my gut might have intensified and knocked me on my butt if she hadn’t released me. Amelia normally didn’t touch me at all. I was super grateful for that now, because, boy, did she exude really strong emotions when she was upset.
“You never called. I’ve been blowing up your phone and you never answered or called me back.” Her eyes bore into mine as she blinked a tear from her eye.
Sudden guilt of my own drowned out Amelia’s fear. I held up my phone. “It’s dead. I forgot to plug it in.” And I broke into a crime scene and spent the night in a jail cell.
She blinked at me, her cheeks flushing bright red.
I wished I could take the pain from her, not just share it. “I’m sorry, Amelia. Everything was so crazy last night—”
“No, no, that’s not good enough.” She pushed me away and flopped down on my couch.
I pulled her keys from the lock and shut the door, as I tried to decide how much I could tell her. Flores believed me. Surely my oldest friends would too. After all, a full confession would clear up some of my quirks. Yet, I couldn’t tell Amelia without Gina. It was definitely a conversation to be had once.
Instead, I leaned against the wooden frame, and waited for my deserved lecture.
After flipping tears from her cheeks with jerky swipes, Amelia glared at me. “You know, this isn’t slut shaming. Both Gina and I could care less who you go home with. It’s about safety. The deal is you text us when you get home so we know we don’t have to start searching the hospitals. Which reminds me, I have to text Gina that you’re alive.”
It was time to get them together and make a full confession. No distractions this time. “Tell Gina I’m cooking dinner tonight.”
Amelia shook her head as she typed on her phone. “Not good enough.”
My shoulders sagged, as my hands flipped my phone front to back to front in a concentric pattern.
“Gina wants the full Fauna gourmet meal.” Her upper lip curved up at one corner. “And I demand that amazing dark chocolate soufflé you made for Easter.”
Relief relaxed my muscles. They really were the best friends a girl could have. “Deal.”
Amelia bounced up from the couch and pointed at Walter hidden by blankets next to the TV. “Is that the $3000 statue?”
“Yep.”
She obviously wanted more. “Why did you spend all that money on this thing, just to hide it?”
The layers of cloth were the only reason I could stand it being in the condo at all. Until I found a better solution, that was how it was going to stay. She’d know exactly why at dinner.
Instead of a real answer, I offered, “The whims of a crazy woman.”
Amelia cocked her head, clearly not satisfied. “I’ll let that one slip for now. I’ve done enough mothering for one day, and I need to get back to work.”
With my door half open, she pointed her phone at me. “You better pick up when I call.”
I held up the cord from the kitchen counter with dramatic flair and plugged my phone in. “Deal.”
That evening, the townhouse smelled like garlic, cream, and fresh bread from the fettuccini alfredo and homemade baguettes the three of us had devoured. Gina and Amelia filled the dishwasher as I packed up the plastic containers with leftovers.
“It was amazing, Fauna.” Gina giggled as I shoved it all in the fridge. “You don’t have to cook for an army every time though. We’re going to have to start inviting more people.”
“Oh no, we don’t,” argued Amelia. “Those leftovers are my lunch for the next week.”
The distinct smell of chocolate wafted from the oven. “The soufflé tells me it’s done.” Not quite as high as I wanted it, though the cake still blossomed above the pan in a healthy pouf.
Amelia leaned on the counter focused on the oven. “I don’t know how you know it’s done without a timer.”
I hadn’t said a thing yet about my curse. This could be the best lead in. “Sometimes, I can sense things.” With a towel stretched between my hands, I pulled the dessert from the oven, careful not to splash the hot water from the roasting pan.
Her ponytail bouncing with energy, Gina grabbed three small plates from the cabinet. “I totally get that. I always know when one of my students has to use the bathroom. Experience can open up different clues.”
Amelia rolled her eyes. “Sure, like I can tell when Bob is going to take credit for my work. Oh wait, that’s always, so it doesn’t count.”
Digging the serving spoon into the steaming soufflé, I dolloped a generous portion onto each plate. I wanted to confess, but my nerves were getting the better of me with Amelia’s sarcasm going strong tonight. What if she didn’t take me seriously?
I had to try. “No, I mean I can actually sense like emotions and stuff from people and sometimes objects.”
Amelia blinked at me, a spoon halfway to her mouth.
Gina, however, didn’t seem to hear me. She grabbed her plate and spoon and moved to the living room. “Hey, can we watch the end of the Bachelor? I have it recording at home, but I won’t have the energy to watch tonight. If Margie from yoga class spoils it for me in the morning, I might have to strangle her.”
With her head cocked at me, Amelia joined Gina on the couch. “Well, I’m plum out of bail money. So, let’s not let that happen.”
I left the pan on the counter and leaned against the back of the couch. This wasn’t going quite to plan. “I was in jail last night.”
With the remote slack in her hand, Gina turned all the way around to look at me. “What did you say?”
“Oh good, so you can hear me.” I found myself a bit angry that they both seemed to not care about the confession that was so painful to me. “Remember the murder I said I witnessed?”
Amelia reflected my anger right back at me. “Oh, we remember, but we agreed to attack you for your lies after we made up.”
Gina put down the remote and curled her legs underneath her on the couch. “Well, if we have to do this.”
Again with the guilt. I moved around and sat down on the coffee table. Well, I started it, now there was no stopping the flow. “I’m cursed.”
Amelia dropped her head on the back of the couch. “Oh god, I’m too full to be angry.”
Gina giggled, though I could feel her nervousness instead of joy.
I had to push ahead before I lost them. “Do you know why I wear gloves?”
“Because of germs,” Gina piped up, relief in her voice like she solved the tension and we could go back to our light-hearted evening.
Amelia, on the other hand, leaned forward with her elbows perched on her knees. “But you’ve never actually said you were a germophobe. I always found that odd.”
Without my gloves on, I felt too vulnerable for this conversation. I stood and paced to put more space between us and to help me continue. “That’s right, because I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t think you’d believe me either. A complete stranger believes me though, and I couldn’t fathom that my two best friends wouldn’t also know I was telling the truth.”
Amelia tried to interrupt, but I froze her comment with a wave of my hand.
“Let me get this out, please.” Back to pacing, the words just kind of fell out one after another, my full confession of my curse for them to judge.
My feet stopped as I felt tension in the air change to sadness.
Amelia held her head in her hands and was quietly weeping. “I knew it was something. I knew you knew more than you told me when you came over for Thanksgiving when we were still in college. I refused to set the soup course, so Mom handed you the silver spoons, and you dropped the entire box on the floor.”
I remembered. The impression was so strong it penetrated right through my gloves.
She looked up at me, over Gina who was holding her as she cried. “You apologized and ran from the kitchen, mumbling about being clumsy. But I’d seen the color fade from your face before you dropped them. You stared at me in horror, like you knew.”
Tears covered my cheeks as I crouched by Amelia’s feet. “I know what he did to you while you clutched that wooden box on the table. I felt it.”
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