by Freya Barker
My eyes drift back to the swing and now I see what I missed earlier. A newspaper? I step around the corner to take a better look. A map.
“Son of a bitch!” I yell, when I spot the corner missing. I carefully pick up the map by a corner and with one last look, I turn to walk back into the house. To the terrified woman inside.
I find her in the kitchen on the floor. Her knees pulled up to her chest, her head buried in her arms and her back pressed into the corner. “Babe...”
Her head whips up and immediately tears pool in her eyes. “Oh my God—Neil. I thought...” Her voice trails off when she sees what I have in my hand. “What is that? Is that...?” Her eyes are big and fixed on the map I have to take care of without destroying any possible evidence.
“Nothing I want more than to put my arms around you now, babe, but I have to make sure I don’t mess any possible prints on this thing. Do you have any wax or parchment paper?” She nods, looking a touch confused, as she scrambles to her feet and roots through one of the drawers, coming up with a roll of wax paper. “Good. Now if you could cut off a good length and lay it on the counter?” Her hands still shaking, she does exactly as I ask. Carefully, I place the map in the center of the paper and fold the end over, before turning and pulling Kendra against me. Her arms immediately close around my waist, fisting in the back of my shirt. Her body trembles in my arms and I mumble some nonsense in her hair. “It’s okay, Pup. There’s no one outside. Whoever was there is gone,” I tell her, knowing full well that whoever is out there somehow has found out where she lives. And that is not fucking good.
“How did he find me?” Her voice is soft but not weak. I can hear fear but also anger simmering under the surface. Good, it will make what I have to say next go down a bit easier, I hope.
“Not sure, but we’ll find out. You can’t stay here, Kendra.” Her head tilts back the moment the words leave my mouth, anger in her eyes.
“Like hell! I’m staying here. Where am I supposed to go? Not letting this creepy chucklefuck scare me out of my house. It’s my house!” Her hands that were clutching me seconds ago are now shoving at my chest angrily. Probably because I couldn’t hold back the snicker at her colorful verbiage. Her choice of swearwords is different, to say the least, but different is damn cute on her. “Don’t laugh at me,” she admonishes. “This isn’t funny.” And just like that, cold reality settles back in. No, it’s not funny at all.
Leaning down, I first kiss her tightly pursed mouth before taking her angry face in my hands. “You’re absolutely right, which is why you’re coming with me.”
“Coming where?”
“My apartment. It only has one entrance and is as secure as this place is, if not more so. Start packing whatever you think you’ll need.” I already start turning away to grab my phone when a tug on my arm turns me back around.
“I can’t. I have to be at the clinic this afternoon. I have patients.”
Is she for real? “Kendra, you’re not going to work,” I tell her, holding up my hand right away when I see her gearing up for battle. “All you would do is draw whoever this is out there to Joe and Naomi’s place. You might even be putting your patients at risk. Do you want that?” I’m not playing fair, but I’ll do whatever it takes to make her understand how dangerous this situation is.
“No,” she says sharply in a deceptively soft voice, and I feel a pang of guilt. “I don’t want that.” With a hefty shove, she manages to slip from my arms and takes off upstairs. She’s pissed. I can work with that.
Ten minutes later, I have given both Gus and Damian a call. On Gus’s suggestion, we’re going to stop at the GFI offices first, where Damian is going to meet us to pick up the map. It’ll give Kendra a chance to let off some steam with Emma.
-
I’d forgotten about Kara.
The moment I walk in with my arm around Kendra’s angry shoulders, I feel her stiffen even more when Kara’s bright smile greets us from the kitchen. “Hey guys! I’m just pulling some fresh lemon scones from the oven. Want some?”
The warm, slightly sweet citrus tang in the air makes my mouth water, but Gus is standing behind her in the hallway, tipping his head toward the office behind him. Guess no scones for me. “Not for me, duty calls.” I indicate Gus, who’s already walking down the hall. “I leave you in good hands,” I tell Kendra, earning a ball-shriveling look in return. Ouch. I open my mouth to try and dislodge my foot, but Kara beats me to it.
“Awesome,” she directs at Kendra. “I’ll finally have a chance to chat with you.” Kendra’s smile is as fake as a two-dollar bill and suddenly I’m not so sure this is a good idea.
“Where’s Emma?” I ask Kara, hoping she’s around to help.
“She’s out dropping off pies at the diner and picking up a few groceries. Only reason I have a chance at the oven.” She smiles with the tiny lift of one eyebrow. Kara noticed my girl’s reluctance. She would, she’s sharp as a tack and reading folks is part of her job as a social worker. Which is probably why she steps up, throws an arm around Kendra’s shoulders and marches her into the kitchen, chattering away. The last thing I see before walking down the hall is the slightly panicked look Kendra throws over her shoulder. I cross my fingers Kara can put her at ease, but I have to admit, I’m pretty fucking pleased at Kendra’s response. She wouldn’t react that way if she didn’t care about me.
So when I walk into the boardroom with the evidence in a Ziploc bag, I have a big-ass smile on my face.
-
Half an hour later, I’m not smiling anymore. The FBI was able to get a credit card, name and address for that postal box they linked to Maryn in Cortez. That lunatic has been right in our backyard the entire time. Not only that, a new missing persons case has just been filed in Cortez. Damian hands out a file. Franka Mellis, a home-care nurse and single mother of two, did not come home last night. Her twelve-year-old daughter contacted the Cortez PD first thing this morning. The children’s father was contacted in Norfolk where he is stationed and is apparently on a flight to Durango. The last person to have seen her is an elderly man with early onset Alzheimer’s. Apparently, during the first five minutes of the interview with him, he was clear as a bell, yet in the next moment, he didn’t even remember where he was. From what they could deduce, Ms. Mellis received an urgent text about her daughter, which is why she had to leave before her replacement came in ten minutes later. The daughter claims she never sent a text.
“Okay, let’s work from the premise that this is the same guy who dropped off the map at Kendra’s,” Damian suggests. “If he actually has Franka Mellis, all we can hope for is that he’s keeping her restrained somewhere. Jasper is looking for any other places, aside from the old farmhouse off of County Road D, that might be in his name. We’re getting ready to hit the farmhouse as soon as my warrant gets here. If she’s there, they’ll find her.” The agent puts his hand on his neck and stretches. “The other thing is, we haven’t been able to find a regular source of income for Maryn, aside from the sale of some of his art through the Farmington gallery. Not enough to live off, so we know he must have money coming in from somewhere. We’re in the process of getting access to his bank records—only one account with Bank of America in Durango found to date—but the paperwork is taking forever on that.”
While Damian’s been talking, I’ve been able to find a profile for Franka on MatureDatingOnly. Her handle was easy to spot, Franka not being a common name and FrankaMom2 was easy enough to pick out as hers. Especially since I’d already pulled up her picture from the DMV site and it was a match with the one on her dating profile. Fuck. It’s becoming more and more frustrating to see how many people don’t properly protect themselves when surfing the net. Some of this stuff can be hacked by a high school kid with half a brain. The woman’s password is a combination of her daughter’s name and her son’s birthdate.
“What have you got?” Gus asks me.
“She has a profile on MatureDatingOnly. I just got in her account and
am checking the profiles she’s been in touch with... Son of a fucking bitch!” A sick feeling settles in the pit of my stomach when I spot the tag name for one of the profiles she’s been conversing with up to last Friday.
“What?” Damian comes around the table and leans over my shoulder. “Goddamn motherfucker. Lucifer? The bastard’s named himself Lucifer this time? What the fuck does that mean?”
“The fallen one,” Gus mutters. “Also known as fallen star, or morning star. The ultimate dark angel.” Looking up at Damian, he leans back in his chair. “I’m coming with you.”
“So am I,” I add, but both older men turn their attention back on me.
“Yeah?” Gus looks at me questioningly. “And what about Kendra?”
Kendra
This is not awkward at all.
I self-consciously sit down on the kitchen stool Kara waves me to while she starts pulling mugs from a cupboard and pouring coffee.
“Sorry, I didn’t ask. I just assumed you’d want some? Coffee I mean?” she asks belatedly, wincing. Looks like I might not be the only one who is a little uncomfortable.
“Coffee is great, thanks.” I smile at her, hoping to break the obvious tension. “And I wouldn’t mind one of those scones you were talking about.”
“Of course!” She busies herself putting sugar and creamer on the counter and presents me with a pastry that is almost bigger than the plate it’s on.
“Holy shizzle—those are huge!” comes falling out of my mouth. A snort has me look up to see Kara with her hand covering her mouth, trying to hold back laughter.
“Mom tells me all the time to mind my size, but I can’t help it, bigger just seems better to me,” she says with a wink, before her eyes turn serious. “Look, I know its weird and this must be uncomfortable, but I want to tell you how happy I am about you giving Neil a chance. He’s really a fantastic guy. He’s kept me sane over the past few years.”
Okay. That’s nice I guess, but what the fudge do I say to that? “I’m glad,” I try with a little smile, feeling utterly out of my depth.
“I should’ve asked—I’m so sorry—but how are you doing?” She points at the bandage I still have covering the cut on my head. Instinctively my hand reaches up to touch it. “Neil mentioned you got hurt.”
Wait. Neil mentioned? I feel the ugly beast of jealousy taking a huge bite out of my stomach. “I’m fine,” I manage, but apparently none too convincing because Kara winces once again.
“I’m so fucking this up,” she sighs, oddly checking the hallway behind her and the door before leaning over the counter toward me. “I’d like to explain. Back when Mom came to live in Cedar Tree and I met Neil, I was really struggling. I mean, Mom is great, and I was happy that she was happy, but there was so much shit going on in her life that I didn’t want to add on to it. All these new friends she was making... It just seemed easier to leave things as they were. I didn’t want to mess anything up for her.” Kara looks down at her hands, where she’s been picking apart the scone on her plate into a pile of crumbs. “Neil seemed more of my generation, and he was certainly more in tune. I know he hasn’t told you because he always says it’s my story to tell, but sometimes I wish he’d just spill the beans for me.” Taking a deep breath, she looks me straight in the eyes, tears filling in hers. Without thinking, I reach out and squeeze her hand lightly. “Neil clued in right away that I wasn’t interested in him that way,” she continues. “He’s convinced it wouldn’t make one lick of difference to Mom or Gus if they knew. Or to anyone else for that matter. But I just don’t know. Things are good like this.” She hesitates for a moment, turning her head to look out the back window. “Or at least they were.”
She seems to have a hard time just coming out with it, but she doesn’t have to say the words for me to understand. So I say them for her. “You’re gay.”
Surprised, her head swings around. “You guessed?”
I can’t help the chuckle from slipping out. “Honey, you may not have said the words, but it’s pretty obvious.”
“It’s so silly.” Kara blushes a little. “You know how when you postpone things, they only get harder?” When I nod my encouragement, she goes on. “Well, when I met Marisa, I thought I would wait a bit until I felt more secure in our relationship and then I would tell. But life happened, and every time I would visit Cedar Tree, time was so short and I didn’t want to spoil it. So I wouldn’t say anything. Then I’d come back home and Marisa would get upset. I’ve met her family and they’re wonderful, and yet I’m keeping her from mine, and that pisses her off. I just never realized how much until she broke up with me on the phone last week.”
Now the tears are streaming and there’s nothing I can do but round the counter and pull the crying younger woman into my arms. “You know?” I begin carefully. “From what I can tell about your mom and Gus, they don’t have a judgmental bone in their bodies. I think you’re underestimating them. Sure, it may be a shock at first, but honey, that’s not judgement, that’s simply concern and a need to adjust their expectations.”
The sniffling against my shoulder slows down and then she lifts her head. “Neil says the same thing. I was a basket case last week, but he talked me through. Really, he’s such a good guy.”
Her eyes on me are willing me to hear her. Oh, I hear her, all right. Here I was, pissing away an entire weekend on anger over him being a good guy. I’m such a dumbass. “I know he’s a good guy, Kara,” I tell her with a little smile as I sit back down on my stool. “And he’s also right. You’re a grown woman and you can’t even say it out loud. I’ve heard enough about you to know that you’re smart as a whip, have a fantastic personality and are a kick-ass social worker. Come on, Kara, you’ve been living it for years. You’re a social worker for crying out loud.”
Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she finally swallows hard. “You’re right. I don’t have a problem at home in Boston, but here in small-town Colorado, I have trouble admitting I’m a lesbian.”
“Well, it’s about fucking time, girl!”
Both our heads swing to the hall where Gus is leaning casually against the doorway. Oops.
“You knew?” Kara’s voice is no more than a whisper as she watches Gus approach her.
Folding his stepdaughter in his arms, he mumbles in her hair, “What kind of investigator would I be if I hadn’t figured it out by now, sweetie?”
“What about Mom?” Kara asks him.
“What about Mom?” Emma echoes as she comes in from the front, having apparently just heard Kara’s question.
Oh boy. Seems I’m caught right in the middle of a family drama. With slightly panicked eyes, I look for an escape but instead find Neil walking in. He doesn’t stop, just walks up to Emma, divests her of the grocery bags on her walker and comes into the kitchen, quietly sorting and putting the stuff away. A quick glance my way, with a wink, makes it clear he’s fully aware of the bombshell about to drop.
“Well?” Emma prods, not having moved from her spot, but looking directly at her daughter who is facing her, with Gus’s arm now around her shoulders.
“I’m gay,” Kara blurts out.
Emma frowns, biting off between tight lips, “How long have you known?” For added emphasis, she puts her hands on her hips, swaying back and forth.
Kara rolls her eyes. “Mom, I’m a lesbian. I love girls. Well, really only one girl, but I messed that up. I—”
“I get that, but what I’d like to know is how long since you realized you were gay?” Emma cuts off Kara’s mumbling and Gus seems to find it all very amusing.
“Uhm, eighth grade?” Kara answers, her words laced with confusion.
“Right,” Emma states. “And as your mother, did you really think I was clueless? I’m pissed at you, Kara. But not for the reasons you think I am. I’m angry because it took you this damn long to tell me yourself!”
I’ve already slipped off the stool and am edging toward the door. Really, I shouldn’t be witness to this, but N
eil is now leaning with his back against counter, arms crossed over his chest, watching it unfold like real life TV. Not for long, though, because Emma makes her way into the kitchen and gives him a hard shove in the shoulder.
“Hey...easy,” he says with a smile, rubbing his shoulder, but moving out of the way nonetheless as Emma takes over sorting the groceries with much noise.
“You know what? She’s been miserable here since she apparently messed up with her girl back home. You knew this. I’ve seen you over at the guesthouse, Neil. You should have told me. I’m her mother.” Emma pokes her finger at Neil.
“And I’m her friend,” he fires back. “And what kind of friend would I be if she couldn’t trust me?”
That seems to hit home.
Emma stills before swinging around to face Gus. “And you don’t seem surprised.” It sounds more as an accusation than it does a conclusion. Gus seems impervious.
“Love this girl too, Peach. Wasn’t hard to figure out.” He stalks over to Emma, bracketing her against the counter and leaning in. “Now get over your snit, because we all know you’re dying to start fixing your girl’s broken heart, and I have a killer to go catch. Kiss me.”
“Ugh,” Kara exclaims, turning her back. “Too much PDA in this house. All over the damn house!”
Neil chuckles and hooks her around the neck, giving her head a good rub, but he’s watching me the whole time. Letting Kara go, he holds his hand out to me, and with my head still spinning from the laser speed turnarounds in these last twenty minutes, I grab hold and let him pull me out the door.
“What just happened?” I ask still a bit stunned when he has me tucked in the passenger seat.
“Family, Cedar Tree style. That’s what just happened.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Neil
“How long will you be gone?”
I’ve got Kendra pressed up against the wall in the bathroom. Joe is outside in the living room, taking over Kendra’s security for a couple of hours. I have a few errands I have to run in Cortez. For two days, we’ve been holed up in the apartment with only the occasional trip down to the diner for a bite. I’ve been busy running some searches for Jasper, but the FBI is firmly in charge. GFI now officially has been assigned to keep Kendra safe, and even though she thinks it’s only me, there is always a second monitoring the outside of the building. Often Joe, but sometimes Caleb or Mal. It’s tedious, but necessary, because despite all the information that we are uncovering, Casal Maryn is still in the wind. No trace of him and despite the copies of his driver’s license they had on file at the bank in Cortez, there is nothing registered with the DMV. No records at all. The man is a ghost. One with a farmhouse and a bank account with apparently not much in it.