by Liz Lee
Afterwards she’d do something totally pointless like clean the fridge or the windows, over and over and over, until they sparkled like diamonds.
And then she’d snap back. Same ol’ sweet Lil.
But she wouldn’t talk and she wouldn’t unload. She’d just smile like everything was perfectly fine.
Only this time it wasn’t about him being out with the guys or her mother calling and telling her she was wasting her life in San Mario when she could be in Cannes or London or the City, which could be Dallas or LA but it didn’t really matter because Lil hated both equally.
This time it was a dead student. And that student’s dead father. And missing brother.
And Lil wasn’t closed off, or cleaning or pretending everything was okay.
She was crying and it broke his heart.
He walked to the door and knocked. “Come on, Lil. Let me in.”
“Go away.” Only it was muffled and she sounded miserable.
Lil was very big into the whole I mean what I say and don’t try to interpret thing, but this was different.
That voice and those tears might not mean the opposite, but they needed the opposite.
He twisted the doorknob, opened the door slowly and there she was.
Devastated.
Sitting in the big chair by his bed, wrapped in a UT throw, papers in her lap, her tearstained eyes accusing.
“I said go away.” She hiccuped after away.
He stood there at the door, taking in her somewhat packed suitcase, her tears, those papers and that ratty UT blanket.
He thought about her need for distance when she was upset.
This was different. He crossed the room, knelt in front of her and gently brushed the tears from her cheeks. “I know what you said, but I couldn’t just let you cry.”
She gulped but she didn’t pull away. “Yes you could. Trust me, I’ve cried lots and you weren’t around.”
“Lil, don’t make this about us.”
She shook her head and pulled back. “I was out there playing pretend. For a few minutes I almost forgot. But I won’t again. I don’t know what I can do to help, but I’m sure going to try.”
Playing pretend. They’d both been doing that. She was right. He looked at the papers in her lap. “You’re looking again.”
She nodded and sobbed. “It’s not doing any good. I keep reading these essays thinking there’s got to be some clue but there’s nothing. Nothing. The only thing close is Miguel’s essay on Heart of Darkness but he just talks about the potential for evil in everyone. Not Degas.
“Solidad’s been gone longer. She talks about boys and motherhood, her favorite church. I’m an English teacher. My skills aren’t going to fix this.”
She pushed the papers to the floor and sidestepped him as she stood and walked to the window. The dawn sky was dark and he could see her tearstained face reflected in the glass.
He didn’t know what to do or say but then she started crying again and he couldn’t just let it go. He couldn’t.
He walked to her side, pulled her close, felt her tense at first and then sink into him.
“Shhh.” He whispered the words into her hair. “It’s okay. It’s okay to hurt, to feel powerless, to cry.”
She sobbed into his shirt and shook her head. “No, it’s not. It’s not okay at all. It’s pointless. It solves nothing.”
“It’ll make you feel better.”
“I don’t see you doing it.” She glared at him through her tears.
“I didn’t know these people. It’s different for me. Just go ahead and cry.”
For a minute he thought she was going to pull away from him, grab her suitcase and leave. Instead she let her head fall to his shoulder. He hugged her close, ran his hand over her soft hair as she cried and cried and broke his heart even more.
It was true. He didn’t really know the Hernandez family. But he knew Lil. He knew these tears didn’t come easily. That trusting him with them came at a huge expense for her.
He didn’t want to abuse that trust. He just wanted to ease some of her pain.
That’s what he told himself as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. As he thought of the way her soft lips would feel beneath his.
She tensed in his arms. Pushed away. “God, this is so like you.”
What? “Lil?”
She stalked away, shook her head as she glared at him. “Don’t even try to deny it. You were going to kiss me. I saw the look in your eyes. That tender oh-baby-let-me-help look. I can’t believe you.”
She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders.
Ah damn. “You were crying.”
She stopped him with a harsh laugh. “I’m so stupid sometimes.”
How had it come to this? David tried to replay the last few seconds in his mind. Tried to see how she’d misunderstood. “Lil, it’s not….”
She held out her hand. “Don’t bother explaining, David. Just leave me alone.”
David thought about trying to explain but decided it wouldn’t make a difference.
He picked up the scattered papers handed them to her and tried not to flinch when their hands touched.
Lil yanked her hand from David’s, but he grabbed it, refused to let go until she met his eyes.
She knew she had no choice.
She looked at him, bit her lip as he spoke.
“You’re an amazing women I admire a lot who’s going to help us catch Degas or at least figure out his connection at the school.”
She nodded. Tried to feel good about the whole amazing admired thing, but it wasn’t working. She just felt foolish. He’d been trying to make her feel better and she’d totally overreacted.
So typical.
“I’m sorry, Lil.” He held her hand a second longer, frowned as he met her eyes. “I wish we could’ve saved her.”
She looked away, but she didn’t pull her hand from his. She wanted to, but she didn’t. She wasn’t sure why.
After a few silent seconds he finally let her hand drop. “I think Ryan’s stopping by in a few. Chocolate chip cookies?”
He was trying to make this okay. Make her okay. Heal the pain that threatened to overwhelm her. Solidad was dead.
She wasn’t going to think about that. Not now. Not when David was trying so hard. “You know I love cookies.” Only her voice broke on the last word, and he started toward her again. She shook her head. “Go away, David. I’ll be out in a minute.”
She didn’t say anything about unpacking her suitcase, but she saw him look pointedly at the bed where she’d left it half full.
He got to the door before she thought to ask, “Is it safe for Ryan to stop by?”
“No. Not so soon. But sometimes it’s necessary. See you in a few minutes.”
David took the cookie sheet out of the oven and tried not to be worried about Lil. It was going on three in the morning. She was emotionally and physically exhausted and Ryan was interrogating her about the game.
Scamp sat by her hand, begging to be scratched, petted, anything.
He totally understood the dog’s devotion.
“So the principal kept some kid from getting carted off for public intox. And the guy you call creepy counselor….”
“Stan Anderson.” Lil took one of the cookies David offered. “He’s not really creepy just a total jerk.”
“So Stan was his normal unpleasant self.” Ryan took one of the cookies. “Nothing else unusual?”
Lil closed her eyes and shook her head and David thought about kicking Ryan out. Telling him this could wait until later.
But it couldn’t. Not if they had any chance of finding Miguel.
“People might have been more protective,” Lil said.
“More protective?” Ryan wanted more.
Lil shrugged. “You know. They held their kids tighter, didn’t let them run off. Nothing big. Not really.”
David could see the disappointment on Ryan’s face.
“You brought th
e papers home from school,” Ryan said, and Lil nodded.
“Yeah, but there’s nothing there.”
Ryan didn’t care. He wanted to see them. Lil got them, handed them over.
Ryan grimaced. “Heart of Darkness. I hated that book.”
Lil’s cheeks turned rosy and David could see the war she fought. Finally she broke. “If you hated the book, blame the teacher. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is will the papers help?”
“I don’t think so.” Ryan didn’t bother to hide the truth, but he took the papers anyway. “You say creepy counselor Stan wasn’t that fond of Solidad. That she was a partier.”
“Right.” Lil looked like she as going to cry at the mention of the girl’s name.
Ryan scanned the papers in front of him. “But she writes about boys and family and church. Doesn’t quite fit the image she projected.”
Lil looked away and David jumped in. “We know the Hernandez family was helping the missing girls. Maybe the party girl was a way to get in with them.”
“Solidad was a normal teenager,” Lil said. “Parties are a part of that. Sometimes it’s a little wilder than others. But she was working a little harder the last couple weeks. Before she disappeared.”
She stopped talking, looked at her hands and David wondered what she was asking herself.
He didn’t have to wonder long. “You said the family was trying to help the missing girls. Did they have success?”
“Some,” Ryan said. “We’re talking to a couple girls they helped out now.” He stood and pulled a photo out of his jacket pocket. “Rafe helped us ID one of the cops from this side of the border helping Degas the other night.”
He tossed the photo on the coffee table on top of Sports Illustrated, and Lil gasped.
It couldn’t be. But. She grabbed the photo. “That’s the officer from tonight. The one Mr. Miller stopped.”
Ryan didn’t look surprised. In fact, Lil wondered if he’d known all along.
“Yeah. Well, he’s dead now. Shots fired at a B and E. He answered the call.”
Lil looked at the young face in the photo. Was it all related? It had to be.
“His partner?” David asked the question she hadn’t even thought of.
Ryan simply shrugged and she wondered how he could be so cold about it all. “That’s the weird thing,” Ryan said. “His partner wasn’t there. This kid answered the call in uniform but off duty.”
“We weren’t even looking at this kid.” David sounded as dejected as she felt.
“He was new,” Ryan said. “Now he’s dead. We’ll get what we can from his place. You two keep working the school.”
Ryan put the photo back in his pocket and started to leave but stopped when he reached the door.
Lil didn’t want to hear anymore bad news. She wanted Ryan to leave. She wanted…she didn’t know so she just kept rubbing Scamp’s head and wishing the agent would speak so maybe this horrible night would finally be over.
“I’m sorry, Lil.” Ryan spoke the words softly and she realized this wasn’t as easy for him as he made it seem. He lifted the papers. “I hope these will help. For what it’s worth, Solidad wasn’t taken with her brother. She and her father disappeared a week before Degas showed up for the rest of the family. There’s still a chance.”
She nodded and tried to smile, but it wasn’t working. Ryan worked on facts. That little bit of hope had to be hard for him to dispense.
“Thanks,” she said because what else was there to say?
And then he was gone, and she and David were alone in the living room with Scamp and the knowledge that more people were dead and they still had no answers.
This sucked.
David disappeared for a few seconds and she wondered what he was doing. Scamp tilted his head to the side, wondering too she figured.
When David came back, she smiled. He knew her way too well.
He tossed a sponge on his counter, set a bottle of cleaner next to it. “It’s four in the morning, Champ,” he said. “I’m taking a shower, but I know you’re dying to do this. We’ll talk in a few minutes.”
And then she was alone with the dog, a bottle of industrial strength cleaner and a sponge.
The sad story of her life.
She thought about leaving the sponge on the counter just to prove he didn’t know her at all. Instead of tackling the fridge, she panned the cookies, cleaned off the counters and tried not to stare too much when he stepped out of his dark bedroom, shirtless in his green flannel pajama pants. Pants he wore for her benefit.
She gulped and tried not to think about his black wet curly hair.
Or about his flat stomach, the six-pack, the way the dark hair led from his belly and lower until it disappeared.
“You sure that’s the cop from tonight,” he asked, and she forced herself to think about the question, not the way it would feel to run her hands through his wet hair.
“Positive.”
He stretched his hands over his head, ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. Totally oblivious to the pure concentration it took for her not to slobber. “Damn.”
He was right about that. She needed to remember why she was here. And why she wasn’t. She tossed the sponge in the sink. “Could Mr. Miller know? Could he have stopped Degas from taking another student tonight?”
David sat at her clean counter and grabbed one of the cookies she’d put away. “We’ve looked at Miller. But we haven’t found a connection between him and Degas.”
She brushed the new crumbs off the counter and into her hand before tossing them in the trash. “You’re right. Besides if he was the connection, he’d have let the cop take that boy tonight.”
“It’s going to be crazy now that a cop’s dead,” David said, the words as a warning of sorts.
“But he died in a completely separate incident.”
David laughed bitterly. “Yeah. That’s what it looks like. But Rafe ID’d him. He was executed tonight same as Solidad and her father.”
Lil shivered at the thought, at how dangerous this all had become. She wanted to feel sorry for the dead man, for his family. But all she could think was that he had helped Degas. She was happy he was dead.
She yawned and he pushed her toward the bedroom, his hands soft on her shoulders.
“Go get ready for bed,” he said.
She walked into the room, still processing his words as she nearly ran into the pallet on the floor next to the bed.
“What’s this?”
“We’re supposed to be living together, Lil,” he said. “We don’t have to sleep in the same bed, but we’re not taking any chances. Not now.”
Lil couldn’t see how now was any different from before. But she didn’t want to be alone tonight. She disappeared into the bathroom with her nightgown and her robe and visions of him making her forget about everything except here and now.
David watched her close the door and tried not to think about what he wanted to do. He could follow her. She’d let him. Her defenses were down. The news about the dead cop and Solidad and Ryan’s visit had stripped her bare.
One night.
That’s all it would be. And she’d enjoy every second of it.
But she deserved more. So he wasn’t going to follow her.
He brushed his hands through his hair and walked back into the now spotless kitchen.
Everything had changed. The game had become far more dangerous. They’d have to look at Miller again. Anderson too.
He ate another cookie and listened as she opened the bathroom door, as the bedsprings creaked.
He imagined her in that crazy flannel nightgown she loved, could see the way it inched up her legs, the way she’d roll across the bed, claim her space and then after a few minutes of sleep spoon right up next to him like he was a damned teddy bear.
Independent Lil.
Sweet, sexy Lil.
“David.” Her voice was sad as she called.
Ah hell. He checked the lo
cks, flicked the lights off and stepped into the bedroom, determined not to think about her in his bed.
He slipped into the sleeping bag on the floor. Closed his eyes to eliminate the images of her, but it only made them more concrete.
The way she teased as she slid that nightgown over her head. The way she liked to pull his hand to her breast, the way her nipples would tighten under his palm. The way she gasped as he lowered his hand to her belly and lower until….
“David.”
He nearly groaned as his eyes snapped open, the fantasy made more real by her voice.
“Yeah.” His voice was gruff when he answered.
“That policeman was your brother’s age.”
“Yeah.”
Her voice was soft and sad and he wanted her to stop talking because it was hell to stay on the floor. Hell to know she was so close. So soft. So naked. “Lil.”
“Yeah?”
“Get some sleep.”
“Okay.”
Her legs moved on the bed, at least that’s what he thought the sound was.
She loved his sheets. Said they felt lived in. At least that’s what she used to say. Back in the days when she’d roll naked in his bed, laughing as she invited him to see more, feel more, do more. Damn. He was never going to sleep tonight.
“David.”
Damn, damn, damn. “Hmmm.” That sounded sleepy, didn’t it?
“I’m sorry.”
Ah hell. “Sorry for what, Lil?”
“You know. For crying all over you. I’m really sorry.”
Jeez. “Lil.”
“Yeah.”
“If you don’t want me in that bed doing everything in my power to make you forget all about crying earlier, about that sadness and fear and helplessness that was perfectly normal under the circumstances, you need to go to sleep. Don’t apologize for it again. Okay?”
She laughed softly and he couldn’t hold back the growl. “I’m serious, Lil. One hundred percent serious.”
She sighed. “I know. Good night.”
Yeah, she knew. That’s what that little laugh was about. “We’ll solve everything tomorrow when we have dinner at my mother’s.”
“Oh crap.”