by Lynn Red
“Anything?” he asked, looking down. She shook her head.
Her neck ached from being craned. Her feet stung from plodding over the hard, broken ground and the surprisingly rough carrot mess. From the road, she heard a car approach more slowly than it should have been.
When she stiffened, it caught Paul’s attention. “You hear something?” he called.
Elena nodded and jerked her head back toward the road. “Aw, shit,” Paul swore. “The car’s back there anyway. If anyone comes, we’re caught.” She shook her head and slunk back to her clothes. As she stood, human again, she had to pull her collar the rest of the way over her head, and she’d crammed two legs into a single side of her jeans.
“That’s a neat trick,” Paul said with a grin. “If you can shove both your legs through one pants leg, you need to eat more.”
Elena smiled, and opened her mouth to respond when the lights swept through the field. Both of them, instinctively, closed their eyes tight. “We’re fucked aren’t we?” Paul asked. Elena shrugged.
There was no point to hiding, and anyway, they did have a legitimate reason to be at this place. The crime scene was closed, so technically all they were doing was trespassing. Both of them moved to either side of the entryway, pulling into the shadows. “What are you thinking, El?” Paul hissed. “They comin’ in?”
“Shh!” Elena shot back, as she waved her hand for him to shut up.
The hyena climbed out of his car, bracing his back with one hand, and twisted back and forth. “Anybody in there?” he called toward the Buick. “Hello?” he tapped the windows with the butt of his Maglite, but for some reason didn’t call in the plate. Elena cocked her head as she watched.
With his hands hitched into his belt, the lanky deputy began slowly sauntering toward the gate. As he approached, he put one hand on his gun, and flicked the button open with his thumb. “If anyone’s here, let me know. I’m nervous when it’s dark.”
Elena took a deep breath and let it out slowly, silently. “Elena St. Claire,” she said. “Paul St. George,” Paul added. “We have a job out here, or... rather, we have a client.”
“Step out,” the officer said. As they both made themselves visible, he relaxed and let his hand leave his gun. “You two? You’re the Saints, right? The dicks?”
“Well that’s a little forward, don’tcha think?” Paul said, grinning slightly. “How the hell are you, Ralph?”
“You’re five-twenty-four from the radio?” Elena asked. “We heard you argue with the dispatcher.”
“Not the dispatcher, but the detective in charge. He’s convinced this is deer, but, let’s get real, Paul. When’s the last time you two saw a deer do... that?”
Elena and Paul both nodded in sync. “You two know each other?” Elena asked.
“Oh right. Ralph Mack, this is Elena St. Claire. She’s the other Saint. In a manner of speaking.”
Elena and Ralph shook hands, which is when he realized she was standing there with no shoes on, and had gotten orange goo all over his hands. “I use my hyena nose all the time,” he said with a grin. “Weirds out some of the others, but I figure if you got it, may as well use it. Anyway, did you two find anything out here? Wait, you said you have a client?”
“Nope,” Elena said curtly. “Client confidentiality. We can’t share anything.”
Ralph shrugged. “I could take you in for trespassing, I guess.”
Rolling her eyes, Elena sighed heavily. “Fine, but no details.”
The three talked over the weirdness of the case – the garden rampages, the carrots left sticking in the ground, and most importantly, the massive incisor mark in said carrot. When Paul and Elena finished laying it out, Ralph looked stupefied.
“Why didn’t anyone call us before?”
“I guess the answer is right in front of you. A field of carnage, blamed on a deer,” Elena said. “We took a molding of the teeth, it’s definitely a rabbit. But, there’s one problem.”
“Yeah?” Ralph stuck his hands slightly down the back of his pants, kneading his lumbar. “No leads?”
“No leads,” Elena confirmed. “Going on two weeks prodding at this case, and I’m about out of patience. And I’m for sure running out of time.”
Ralph grunted. “I might have something for you.”
He produced an evidence bag that was far more official than a Ziploc with marker label. Elena reached for it momentarily before thinking better of unconditionally accepting the bag. “Wait a minute, why are you helping us? Isn’t this sort of illegal?”
Ralph shrugged one shoulder. “Out here? The law’s more a suggestion than a hard and fast rule. And besides, Lieutenant Jorgenson already vetoed this being a case. I know it is, you know it is, but there’s some major dramatic play going on in the department. Sheriff on down, no one wants to be saddled with unsolved cases, so things are getting overlooked.”
Paul grabbed the evidence bag before Elena could ask anything else. “What is this?”
Pushing it against his friend’s chest, Ralph told him to wait, and look later. “Small stuff,” he said. “Take it back to the office and take a look there. It’s little scraps of paper, weird, vague threats. There’s nothing to really link those with these garden rampages, but... well, you’ll see. It’s hard to believe they aren’t related. I was coming out here to see if I could make the whole thing fit and then maybe pitch the case to Jorgenson again, but if you two are working it, I’d rather see it solved than mired in a bunch of department bullshit.”
“Thanks, Ralph,” Paul said, clapping his friend on the arm. “We’ll get on it.”
Ralph bid his goodbyes and spun his tires for a second before he made a dramatic exit. Elena and Paul sat in the front seat of the Buick, waiting for a moment in the extremely unlikely event anyone was watching the road. As soon as paranoia was satisfied, Paul turned the ignition and backed onto the pavement.
The Saints sat in silence for a moment before Elena finally spoke. “So, a friend on the force? How’d you manage that one? What other grave secrets do you keep?”
Paul shrugged. “I met him at the VFW. And before you say anything about how I’ve never been in a foreign war, that is true – but I do know where to go for cheap beer and good conversation.”
“Okay, well, fine. But what else are you holding back on?”
He pinched up his mouth, thinking hard. “Well there’s really only one thing I can think of you might not know about me, honestly.”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know quite how to tell you this, El,” Paul said. “It’s... it’s a hard secret to admit, but I guess I should come clean. I mean, you’re my best friend, after all. My partner in crime and all that.”
“I am presently waiting for you to deliver the punchline to this shitty joke,” Elena said, grinning slightly.
“My terrible secret, which you are presently belittling by saying things like that, is not a joke at all.”
“Oh, okay, well I apologize from the bottom of my heart—”
“I,” Paul said, dramatically interrupting. “Am actually a woman.”
Elena let out a long sigh, followed by a groan.
Paul, for his part, laughed wildly at his own joke.
-7-
“I’m not real sure this is legal.”
-Elena
Sweat ran down the sides of Elena’s face. Overhead, as she lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling and watching time tick by, the fan whop-whop-whopped in the hypnotic rhythm that sometimes put her to sleep and sometimes kept her awake.
She kicked off the sheet – she liked having it just for the weight, not for the warmth – and moaned softly as the air from above cooled the moisture on her skin. She clenched her eyes and wished for once she could get West out of her mind. But for that to happen, she knew what she’d need. Elena couldn’t handle the complication. She didn’t want to miss another chance at love, but she also didn’t want to get distracted, fall head over heels, and screw up the biggest case
of her career.
Like I haven’t fallen already, she thought, chewing her lip. The eleven projected on the ceiling ticked over to twelve. When she closed her eyes again, fully aware sleep wasn’t coming, the only thought in her mind was of the way his huge hand brushed against hers; of the heat that emanated from his palm and penetrated her shoulder, warming her to the bone. Even if she wasn’t going to sleep, at least she’d gone to bed before three.
Oh God, she thought. Why can’t I stop, why can’t I just get this out of my head?
The war she fought with herself was pointless. She’d fended him off this long, but for what? Why was she so worried about going to get coffee? Why couldn’t she just let herself finish one single, goddamn thing that she started?
The movie playing behind Elena’s eyelids turned to made up memories of his lips against hers, of her sucking at him, and tasting the salt from his sweat, when she kissed him back. He smiled and he tangled his fingers in her hair. His breath caressed her skin; he tugged her hair, forcing her head back before he sucked at her neck.
It was all right there, aching, filling her with desire that burned and prickled her skin.
“Well,” she whispered into her empty room. “If I can’t have the real thing, I may as well have...”
She tugged her lip into her mouth, biting softly with her pointed canine, and slid her left hand down her chest, lingering on her pebbled nipple. She imagined it was West’s hand, rough and hard from work, scratching tantalizingly across her chest. The miniscule hairs on Elena’s neck stood up as a rush of cold went down her back, followed by a wave of heat. The warmth spread down her belly, and moved inside her, warming her all the way to the core.
She pinched, gently, on her nipple, and then rotated her fingers, making the hairs on her chest stand up just like those on her neck.
“Tease me,” she moaned, arching her back into the pressure of her hand. “Pull me, kiss me, suck...”
Her voice trailed off into a whimper, desperate and hungry for a touch she convinced herself she couldn’t have. The first finger that disappeared under her soft, slightly wet panties, made Elena gasp softly. The second made her smile.
“More,” she whispered as she writhed under the pleasure. “Yes, yes, kiss me, please!”
Again she bit her lip, imagining it was West holding her lip hostage between his teeth in between kisses. He sucked at her lip, then swirled his tongue against hers before pulling away, driving his fingers deeper, and sucking at her neck.
Her skin was on fire. A hot, red flush crawled up her cheeks, and all the way down to where her fingers rotated inside her softest place. Her muscles tensed, and she paused momentarily to take a breath and prolong the ecstasy.
Breathing deeply, Elena opened her eyes in the darkness as a tear ran down her cheek. He wants me, she thought, almost pleading with her own mind. He wants me, why can’t I just give in? Why can’t I let my guard down?
She swallowed, and pushed her fingers even deeper, dragging them against her front wall, and gasping at the hungry tug of her sex against her fingers. Her heart rushed, thumping inside her chest. Every beat was part of a rhythm that hypnotized her, took her away from her confusion and fear.
The wave she rode crashed against an imaginary beach, broke, and as it did, the pleasure coursing through Elena crested.
Clenching the sheet with her free hand, she gasped, ground her teeth, and then bit her lip hard enough for pain to mix with the pleasure between her legs, running through her belly. The two sensations swirled around each other as Elena writhed, imagining it was her huge bear coaxing her to the edge.
“Yes!” she cried out, into the darkness. “Yes! I can’t stop, I can’t... you’re making me—”
The yelped squeal, the groan, and then the hiss as she clenched and released every muscle in her body sent a shock of pleasure all the way from Elena’s curling toes, to her sweetly tickling scalp.
As her breathing slowed, and her core temperature fell to something approaching normal, she rolled over, and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of sweat and sex. She imagined it wasn’t just hers, but West’s too. She imagined his hands on her bare skin, his kiss on the back of her neck, his muscled body curled up behind hers.
She imagined her eyes closing, and sleep overwhelming her. Sleep, for Elena, was an elusive treasure. But that time? Right then? Just the imagined closeness to West, the fantasy of his love, was enough.
Before she knew it, Elena’s eyes drifted shut, her hand relaxed against the sheet and fell open.
Gentle snores filled the darkness.
*
The pale gray of pre-dawn met Elena’s eyes as they fluttered open. That’s the longest I’ve slept in weeks, she thought. Maybe Oprah was right about a pre-sleep jostle being the best thing for a good night. She snickered at herself for actually thinking in words that Nanny St. Claire used to use.
She rolled left, then right. The sheets were still a little wet from her sweat, a little sticky from her sex. Just the feeling of that dampness against her skin brought all those memories from the night before flooding back. I have to get this guy out of my head, she thought. If I don’t, I’m going to have a heart attack, or a hernia, or... something.
Beside her, Elena’s phone started to buzz. She shook off the cobwebs and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” Paul replied, in a tone far too casual for – she looked at the time on the ceiling – five forty-six in the morning. “I’m not feeling so good.”
He followed his declaration with a groan so pitiful it would have made a mother weep. “Did you get shot?” she asked. “Sounds like you’re dying.”
He groaned again. She’d heard this before. Someone was feeling the after-effects of a very good night that led into a very bad morning. “Good night last night?”
“Nah,” he said, audibly rolling over and grunting. “Just woke up with a stomach bug or something.”
“Really?” she asked. “Stomach bug? You sure you and your buddy didn’t close down The Tavern and then eat a bunch of tacos from that truck? Anyway, it doesn’t matter,” she said. Somehow, just the fantasy of West, the idea she’d maybe decided she couldn’t actually fight herself anymore, took a little off her snark-laden edge. “So you gonna go in today?”
He paused, and gulped, swallowing something. Elena just rolled her eyes and smiled. A short cough later, he said that no, he wasn’t. “But remember you got that meeting with the cowboy today.”
Elena’s chest twisted into a knot. How had she forgotten that? Another case check-up with West was planned. She guessed she’d have a chance to try out her new resolve to stop being so guarded. “What do you mean you can’t make it?” Elena asked Paul. “Is this some kind of a set up? Are you trying to be cute?”
Paul groaned and made a sort of croaking sound. “Does this sound cute to you?” he asked before issuing a thick, hoarse cough. “I woke up at four this morning and started,” he trailed off for a second and made a gulping noise. “Anyway, it just wasn’t good. And you know I’d never leave you hanging like this, but—”
Elena’s phone beeped in her ear. Someone else was calling. “Hold on a second, someone’s buzzing in.” She took a quick glance. “Oh, it’s your cop buddy. Want me to tell him you’re too hung over to come to work, and that he has to talk to me?”
Paul laughed a little, and then groaned in pain. “Hangovers come with drinking. If they made me feel like this, I’d never touch another bottle. Anyway, I’ll talk at you later. Sorry again.”
“Feel better,” Elena said. “Seriously, get better. I need you.”
“Will do, I’ve got a day or two worth of Gatorade and saltines, I’ll probably live. I don’t want to come in and get you sick, too,” he said. For a second, Elena thought maybe his illness had brought out some sentimentality. “Someone’s gotta pay the bills,” he finished, banishing that thought.
“Yeah, yeah, get some rest,” she said, clicking
over.
“Saints,” she said into the phone. “Private investigators with a... to hell with it. What’s up, Ralph? Paul’s out sick today, so—”
He snorted a laugh. “I’ll say he is. I’ve never seen anybody eat that many tacos. He got the really crazy ones, too, with the sour cream, guacamole and barbecue or something.”
“That son of a bitch,” she swore, shaking her head and smiling despite having to hold down the fort on her own. Of course, when you’re talking about shuffling three cheating mate cases and one actual real case, that’s still not all that much to deal with, but still it’s the thought that counts. “I knew it. Well anyway, you must be calling me for a reason.”
“You know those little shreds of paper? The ones from the tomato jars?”
“Yeah, of course, though I never did manage to make any sense of them,” Elena said. She grabbed a pen, and got ready to scribble something. She wasn’t quite sure what, exactly, but it seemed like a good time to be prepared to write. “Any leads?”
“Yes,” he said, and then trailed off. “Sort of.”
“How do you have a sort-of lead? Either you got something or you don’t.”
Ralph chuckled under his breath. “Well, the department’s official position is that we issued a citation for improper food handling, we call it a Violation C-208. Like when the guy at Applebee’s drops a riblet on the ground and then just sticks it back on the plate?”
She shuddered. “You should issue a citation to riblets for existing. Anyway, what does a food handling violation have to do with the case?”
And there it was, like a shot of lightning forking through the night sky. Every damn time she thought of the case, every time anyone mentioned it, Elena thought of the guy who hired her in the first place. The guy she needed worse than anything to get out of her head, but who just wouldn’t let go of her consciousness. She shook her head, trying to clear the stupid.
Luckily, Ralph started talking again before she could really lose herself in the jungle of longing. “It isn’t exactly what we found, rather who we fined. Uh, so to speak.”