“You could try.” The lump in Cali’s throat doubled. “But Mrs. Jasmine is famous for never changing her mind.”
“I’m sorry. When I got to the office and they said they’d called an ambulance, I thought it was you who was hurt. Then I saw the blood.”
“You were wrong,” she snapped. “Let’s just leave it at that.” She got out of the SUV and stepped up on the porch. Following her, he unlocked the front door and she walked inside. The silence in the house seemed so loud that if it had a volume switch she’d have turned it down.
He looked at her. “I’ll call her right now.”
Cali went to the kitchen, not wanting to hear that conversation. In a few minutes, Brit walked in, his expression telling her that he’d hit what the teachers called the Jasmine-scented brick wall. The woman didn’t budge when she’d made up her mind. To her credit, she normally made good first-call decisions. Which gave Cali a second of pause. It didn’t even take a second for her to see her mistakes.
She had already endangered Roberto’s life. Next time, it could be a student. Of course, Mrs. Jasmine had a right to be concerned. Hearing Brit’s steps, and not really eager to face him, she dropped her face in her hands.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “She wouldn’t even let me explain.”
Cali moved her hands and looked at him. She was still angry at him, but at this moment she was angrier at herself for overlooking the fact that her feeling “normal” shouldn’t come before the safety of others. “You tried,” she said.
He pulled a chair over and sat down beside her, so close his knee fit between her legs. “I’ve got to go to work. There’s plenty of food in the fridge. Susan bought groceries. When I come back, you can yell and scream at me. Call me every name in the book. Just know that while I was wrong, I was wrong for the right reasons. I care about you.”
She looked at him and realized something else. She hadn’t called him about Stan this morning because she had been worried about him. And by not contacting him, she’d prevented him from doing his job. Right or wrong in her decision, she’d done it because she cared. Just like he’d done to her. Her anger melted and guilt stepped in its place.
“I’m not going to scream and yell.” She closed her eyes and decided she owed him the same thing he’d given her. “I even understand why you did it. And I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier.” She bit down on her lip, still not comfortable telling him about the dream. “I had so much on my mind. The dream I had…it upset me.”
He brushed a finger over her lip where she’d just nipped. “And you still don’t want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
He kissed her, but pulled away before it went from sweet to sexy. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. But if I’m lucky, maybe I can fix it so you can go to work tomorrow after all.”
“You think you’ll catch him?” she asked.
“We’ve set up a hotel room, had it posted on your credit card. Which, by the way, you shouldn’t use for a while. And I’m going to drive your car to the hotel. We’re parking it in front of the room. If things go well, he’ll come looking for you tonight.” He pulled away.
“Be careful. I care about you, too.” The word ‘love’ danced on the tip of her tongue, ready to go into the limelight, but she couldn’t say it. Too soon. Way too soon.
“I will.” He gazed into her eyes as if searching, then smiled. “We did good, didn’t we?”
“Good at what?”
“Our first fight. I was angry, and you were angry, but we did okay.”
“We’ve fought before.” Cali grinned. “I think that’s all we did for a while.”
His stared into her eyes. “Yeah, but we haven’t fought since we’ve had sex.”
“And only fights after sex count?” she asked, finding that somehow humorous.
He leaned in. “How else are we going to have make-up sex?”
She rolled her eyes. “Men are dogs.”
“No, we’re just dickheads.” He kissed her and stood up. “If you need me, call. And leave a message this time. You got it?” He gave her hand a squeeze.
~
The radio spurted out Wolowitz’s voice. “Hey guys, did you know they got a porn station? I think I’m going to stretch out on this bed and enjoy myself.”
It had been four hours since Brit had left Cali and he ached for her. Now he and Quarles sat in an unmarked sedan, staring at the hotel room, waiting. Through the dark parking lot, Brit could barely spot Mark and Luke sitting in a green Toyota. Adams had placed Officer Wolowitz inside the hotel room. Another officer was at the front desk in case trouble broke out in the office. Parked outside the room was Cali’s Honda. They hoped Humphrey would see the car and go straight to the only room with the lights on.
Quarles leaned back, making the sedan’s seat creak. “You know what puzzles me?”
Brit relaxed on the neck rest and turned to look at his partner. “Women? And why they smell so good—taste so good?”
Laughing, Quarles reached for his bottled water. “No, I’ve got that mystery figured out. But I think you’ve got more of a show going on in your head than Wolowitz does on the television.”
Brit grinned. “Well, someday you’ll have to explain the mystery to me, because women baffle the hell out of me.”
“Someday, I will.” Quarles stiffened when a car pulled up.
Brit gripped the wheel and studied the driver as the car rolled by. “It’s not him,” Brit spoke into the radio.
“What puzzles me,” Quarles continued, “is why Humphrey didn’t do something worse to Garcia or the hotel clerk. Or you, the night at Cali’s mom’s house.”
Brit ran a hand over the steering wheel. He’d wondered about that, too. “Maybe he got rid of the gun.”
“The hotel clerk was before Garland’s shooting.”
“Maybe he didn’t want the noise?” Cold air snaked through the vents of the car. Pulling his thin coat a little closer, he missed his leather jacket, and made a mental note to ask Cali for it.
“Okay. So where’s the knife he used at the hotel?”
Brit sat up. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking Humphrey isn’t our man.”
“No. I’m just hoping like hell that when we snag him, he has both weapons on him.”
“He will.” Damn it, this conviction had to stick. The message he’d heard on Cali’s recorder replayed in his head. The man had told Cali he loved her. Cali wasn’t Humphrey’s to love. Not that Brit felt up to the challenge. The word “love” generally came with a serious commitment, like marriage. Sure he wanted Cali, wanted her in his life, but—
“Tell me about Susan.” Quarles, as if tired of sitting, repositioned himself and his knees popped.
Brit eyed Quarles’ profile. The more he got to know his new partner, the less he minded the idea of him and Susan seeing each other. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything, everything.” He paused. “She said something that led me to think you two had a stormy childhood.”
“I don’t think stormy quite describes it.”
“So it wasn’t that bad, huh?” Quarles sounded relieved.
Brit’s inside clinched. If he didn’t feel Quarles needed to know for Susan’s sake, he’d keep the subject to himself. “It was worse than stormy. Our dad was a drunk. A mean drunk and a part-time criminal. Hell, he was mean even when he was sober. Mom was his doormat. She laid down to clean his shoes on her every chance she got. Susan and I tried to stay invisible. When I got big enough to stand up to him, I stopped being invisible.”
Quarles raised an eyebrow. “That must have been hard. I have great, well, a little too worrisome, but good parents. I can’t imagine how that would be.”
“You live through it. It teaches you things.” Things like avoiding serious relationships. Which explained why his feelings for Cali felt like a pair of shoes a couple sizes too small. Could he make this work? Or was he setting both of them up for a world of trouble? .
; “Did Susan date a lot?” Quarles asked. “I mean before the blow-up doll freak.”
“She had lots of boyfriends before that guy. Things just didn’t work out.”
“Why not?” Quarles’ question came out low.
Brit hesitated, but decided Quarles probably needed to know. “They mostly asked her to marry them.”
A pause lingered before Quarles spoke, “Those pieces of shit.” Then he half-smiled. “And why was that a problem?”
Brit nodded. “We’ve seen marriage played out. Actually, thanks to our mom, we’ve seen many marriages played out. Like I said, if you live through it, you learn from it.”
A pair of high-set headlights pulled into the parking lot. Brit leaned against the steering wheel. Air hitched in his chest when he identified the vehicle. The truck rolled by, and Brit recognized the face from the mug shot. He reached for the radio. “It’s him.”
“We see him,” came Duke’s voice.
“And just at the good part, too,” Wolowitz’s voice came on the line. “This chick is stacked.”
“Let him get out of the truck,” Brit insisted. “He’s not getting away this time.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Cali called Roberto first, needing assurance that he was okay. Then she spoke to Sara’s mother. Thankfully, the woman agreed to make an appointment with Dr. Tien. Cali tried to talk the cat into becoming friends again, but all it would do was hiss. Now, with a ham sandwich and chips in tow, she walked into Brit’s living room.
Her footsteps echoed in the silence. The house seemed to hold its breath. When the heater clicked on, she actually jumped. Normally, she didn’t mind being alone, but as she’d told Brit, nothing felt normal right now.
Looking around at his house, she didn’t regret being here—didn’t regret that they’d made love, but she did feel as if she’d stepped into someone else’s life. Someone who didn’t have a mother, a home, a credit card, a car, or a job to go to tomorrow.
Of course, this other person had this great sex life. And maybe when she got her life back, she could keep the sex. Keep Brit. Oh, she really hoped so.
Thoughts of Brit doing police work filled her mind, and she cringed with worry. She pushed the worry back, but said a silent prayer that he would be safe.
Cali heard a car pass by; its headlights slicing through the blinds sent shadows whispering across the wall. The house seemed to hold its breath again. “Great, now I’m scared of ghosts.”
She sat down on the brown leather sofa and set her plate on the glass-topped coffee table. “You did this, Mom, thanks.”
Her mom didn’t answer and whether Cali honestly expected a reply was up for debate. Face it. She hadn’t called Brit this morning because a part of her did believe. Which explained why ghostly shadows sent fear bouncing around her empty stomach.
Cali eyed the plate with little interest for a girl on empty. If she believed the dreams, then what else had her mother said? Forgetting the sandwich, she stood and began to pace.
Read the files. Her mom’s words sang in her memory.
But why should she read Brit’s files? Then she recalled her mom telling her to figure out how she’d known Anderson, the officer who’d been killed. Things about him would probably be in the file. She started to the bedroom to see if the files were still on the dresser. As she moved down the hall, Cali could swear she got a whiff of cigarette smoke. But that couldn’t be, could it? Chills tap danced up her spine.
The files were there—as if waiting for her.
Nipping her bottom lip, she picked them up. The picture of Brit’s partner fluttered out like an injured butterfly. Goose bumps played a slow song up her arms. She stared at the image, recalling her mother mentioning it in one of the dreams.
Sitting on the bed, she focused on the face and tried not to think about him being dead. A strange sensation welled up. Recognition. Just like with Anderson, she knew the face. Where would she have known them? How? She didn’t run in the same circles with cops. Heck, she’d never even been ticketed. Non-bitches didn’t break the law, didn’t take chances.
She shook her head. No. This had to be a mistake. Her last three years had been surrounded by doctors and nurses, not cops. And when she wasn’t with her mom, she was at school or at school functions. She glanced at the image again, expecting the feeling of recognition to fade, but it bit down harder. She knew this man, just as she knew Anderson, but from where?
A shiver chased goose bumps around her body. She inhaled and the smell of cigarette smoke nearly choked her. Immediately, her thoughts went back to this morning’s dream. Of seeing Brit, shot and bleeding.
“Please let him be okay.”
~
“He’s out of the vehicle. Walking toward the room.” Brit spoke into the radio. “Ready, Wolowitz? Poe, stay in the office.”
“Ready,” Wolowitz said.
“You vested?” Quarles asked Brit.
“Yeah,” Brit lied. He hated vests. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, and he didn’t intend to let Humphrey get a shot off.
Brit and Quarles got out of the car, their weapons drawn. In the corner of Brit’s eye, he spotted Duke and Mark moving in with the same caution.
Time held its breath as they inched up behind Humphrey, standing in front of the door where he thought Cali stayed. The man paused, then knocked. The idiot, Brit thought. Did he actually think that Cali would open the door to him? She wouldn’t. She was finished with this creep. Finished.
Humphrey suddenly stopped knocking. He placed a palm on the door, hesitating as if sensing something was amiss. Then taking a step back, he swung around.
~
She stared at the picture of Brit’s dead partner again. Where? Where could she have known him from? All she did was go to work, take care of Mom, and maybe attend a school function?
School functions?
“That’s it!” Cali jumped off the bed so fast she almost tripped. They were the two cops who had spoken at the quarterly meeting for the At-Risk kids. She’d been late, because she’d taken her mom in for a blood test. So late, she hadn’t heard the two speak, but she’d arrived before the ceremony ended and she’d seen them sitting at the speaker’s table up front.
She folded her arms over her stomach, feeling lightheaded. Why was knowing this important? Surely, it didn’t have to do with their murders.
She looked at the phone on the bedside table. Should she call Brit? Biting down on her lip, she tried to think how she’d put it. It seemed like such trivial information. Or was it? But maybe she shouldn’t tell Brit until she knew for certain it had been them. But how could she verify it?
“Tanya.” Cali reached for the phone.
~
“Police. Don’t move!” Brit yelled. Humphrey started backing away. Expecting the man to go for his gun, Brit’s finger tensed on the trigger.
But Stan didn’t reach. Instead he held his hands up. “Don’t shoot.” He fell to his knees. Then he stretched out on the concrete walk, obviously familiar with the routine.
Quarles glanced at Brit. “This is too easy.”
Brit didn’t like it either.
~
“Why do you want to know?” Tanya asked.
“I know it sounds crazy,” Cali said. “But remember me telling you that I felt like I knew that cop Anderson, the one who came to my place and was later killed?”
“Yeah,” Tanya said.
“Well, Mom told me to figure it out. I didn’t listen, but now I think I knew him from that meeting. What’s really weird is that I think Brit’s partner, the other detective that was killed, was there, too.”
“Oh, fudge. You don’t think that the At-Risk kids are involved in this, do you?” Tanya asked.
Cali slumped against Brit’s headboard. “I don’t know, but Mom said it would be important.”
“Okay,” Tanya said, not sounding the least bit put off by Cali’s weird confession. Maybe being Catholic really did help some people believe in ghosts. �
��Let me call around and see if I can find out for sure if it was them. It’s late, so it might be tomorrow, but I’ll call you ASAP.”
“Thanks.” Cali looked around the room and wondered if her mom knew she had figured it out.
~
“Damn.” Brit hissed after searching the truck again. No gun, no knife, no damn baseball bat. He did find what looked like bloodstains. CSI would go over the truck with a fine tooth comb. Pulling away, Brit could hear Humphrey singing a tune of innocence.
Brit stomped back over to where the handcuffed-Humphrey leaned against the hotel wall. “What about the old man at the jewelry store? I suppose you didn’t take part in that either.”
Humphrey seemed to choose his words wisely. “I was there. I’ll cop to that. But it wasn’t me who roughed him up. I even tried to stop them.”
“I suppose you didn’t beat up any of those old girlfriends either? Or rough up the guy at the last hotel, or the guard at the school. Why, you’re just a friggin’ angel, aren’t you?”
Humphrey’s eyes went bright with anger. “I never killed anyone. And those bitches deserved what they got. One came after me with a hammer and the other cheated on me.”
“I suppose Cali McKay deserved to get roughed up, too, huh?” Brit gritted his back teeth so hard he thought they would crack.
“I didn’t play rough with her. Well, maybe just a bit when she ran from me. But Cali’s different,” Humphrey snapped. “She’s special.”
“You’re damn right she’s different,” Brit said.
Humphrey scowled and rose to his feet. “What’s that mean?”
Quarles grabbed the man by his arm and held him back.
“You got a thing for my girl?” Humphrey asked.
Quarles gave him another jerk backwards.
But too late. Brit had Humphrey by the shirt and slammed him against the building. “She’s not your girl. From what I heard, she kicked your ass out the night you shot the .38 through her door and tried to kill her.” It took everything Brit had not to ram his fist into Humphrey’s face.
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