a Touch of Ice

by L. j. Charles

  “All right, pizza. Left over from the other night, right?” Annie stomach gurgled in approval as I trailed her upstairs and into the kitchen.

  Pierce didn’t so much as nod in my direction, stayed focused on the computer, mumbling incoherent syllables as he typed.

  “I’ll pop this in the oven. You want to hang around for a slice?”

  “Um. No, not really.” My stomach knotted with tension. I barely got the words out. “I want to borrow a gun for a while. Maybe an hour at most.”

  She stopped, pizza balanced on the palm of her hand, the pause barely perceptible. “Why?”

  “I don’t want any, what do you call it, ammo. I just want to borrow the gun without bullets. If I spend some time handling it, learning to think of it as a machine, a tool, it might be easier to accept having Mitch’s gun in my house. I don’t want to break into a cold sweat if I see it sitting on the table, or even tucked into his duffle or his waistband.” The memories flooded my mind, making my vision blurry. “Fear is…not good. And if I handle a weapon for a bit, it’ll help. I know it will because it works for my clients.”

  “You want to do this now? Right now?”

  “Yeah. Timing’s a little funky, but I’m bored, edgy. Thinking about Mitch, about Monster Man. I need a break. Maybe I’ll find some balance if I’m busy.” I motioned to living room where Pierce worked his magic with the computer. “There’s nothing I can do here, and I need to do something.”

  She glanced at Pierce, nodded. “Yeah. Keeping you busy is a good thing. You can borrow a gun, but only without the clip. It’s better to avoid weapons unless you’re trained. There isn’t a middle ground here.”

  “I get that. If this goes well, I’ll see about training. I want Mitch in my life, and that means accepting all of him, including the fact that he carries a weapon.”

  She disappeared down the hall, returned a minute later unzipping a black pouch. “Have you thought about the images you’ll pick up when you touch a gun?”

  I attempted a smile, failed.

  She pulled out the gun, removed the clip. “This is a Kimber Compact forty-five. It’s lightweight aluminum and packs a decent wallop. Trigger, safety. You saw how the clip fits.” Her voice was monotone, steady as she pointed out the various aspects of the weapon. She set the clip on a side table, put the gun back in the pouch, and handed it to me. “Be careful, Everly. I know the gun is safe; it’s your psyche I’m worried about. And just so you know, this particular gun has never been used outside the practice range. You shouldn’t pick up any images other than paper targets.”

  My fingers hesitated over the pouch, hefted it. Light. Much lighter than I expected. Big difference between physical and emotional weight when it comes to guns.

  “Thanks.” I gave her a quick hug. “I’ll be all right. Let me know when you’re ready to share your plan.”

  I approached my kitchen table carefully, laid out a soft, white cotton blanket. For some undefined reason, it was important to do this on a soft surface. I unzipped the pouch, and for the first time in my life touched a weapon. Okay. So maybe it was only part of a weapon since the actual killing part was safely stashed in Annie’s house.

  I closed my eyes and held the gun, ran my hands over the smooth surface of the barrel, the rough surface of the grip where the clip would be inserted to make it a viable weapon. I gently tossed it from hand to hand, played with the safety, and pulled the trigger. Finally, I opened my eyes and practiced sighting through the three little dots, then I put the gun on the table and examined it—the design, the steel gray color, the name of the manufacturer.

  I didn’t notice I’d been shaking until I zipped it into the black pouch, until after the shaking stopped. I was so totally lost in my thoughts, it barely registered there was someone pounding on my front door.

  “El? Are you there? Please open the door.” It was Shelly. Sounding hysterical.

  I planted my feet, inhaled a lungful of air, and swung the door open. She flew into my arms, crushing me in a fierce hug. “Shelly?” I gave her a quick squeeze, then wiggled free and stepped back so I could see her face. Mascara ran down her cheeks, red eyes and nose. No question she’d been crying for a while. I leaned over to grab some tissues from the box on my desk, and a bottle of water from the mini-fridge, handed both to her. “Take a breath and sit. Talk when you’re ready.”

  My heart thudded, suddenly too big for my chest. Something was very wrong. Shelly cries more readily than many of my clients, but this was unusual even for her. When the sobs degenerated into gasping sobs, I knew I needed to stop her. I grasped her shoulders, giving her a bit of a shake. “Shelly,” I said, sharply, “you have to stop. You’re making yourself sick.”

  She focused on me, empty eyes finally making the connection, and then she collapsed on the floor. “He’s l-left me. M-Marcus has l-left m-me,” she stuttered through gasps.

  “Tell me what happened.” I brought out my combination drill sergeant-loving grandmother persona and handed her another handful of tissues. She immediately shredded them.

  “H-he said his business is finished here. He’s f-flying out tonight.” She broke down as more sobs escaped.

  “Okay, Shelly. Take a swallow of water and blow your nose.” She drained the bottle and I handed her some fresh tissues.

  “He said to cancel the wedding party we’d planned for my friends.” She looked at me with doe eyes. “The party is tomorrow night. Why couldn’t he wait to leave? It’s just one more day.”

  “So, do I have this right? He still wants to marry you, but without having the party here. He wants to go straight to Paris. He hasn’t actually left you, but wants you to go with him. Tonight. Cancel the party, and get married in Paris tomorrow?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “But I can’t do that. There’s too much to do, too much to just cancel. I can’t leave tonight, so h-he’s leaving without me.”

  I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, letting her cry it out. “Doesn’t he have minions to do that kind of thing for you?”

  “Yes, but these are my friends, El. I can’t marry a man who would do this to me. I haven’t told him yet. He’s sending someone to pick me up soon. What am I going to do?”

  “The first thing we’re going to do is get up off the floor.” I stood, offered my hand. None of the images I’d picked up so far were clear. Too much emotion and they blurred into a mirage of color and distorted shapes. I was hoping when I touched her hand, they’d snap into focus, but no deal. “Okay, Shelly. We’re going to sit down and talk about what you really want, what’s important and what isn’t.”

  Shelly curled up in the corner of my sofa with a box of tissues and another bottle of water. The gloomy cloud hanging over me was fading away now that I had something to focus on. I had work, lots of work sitting right here in front of me.

  “Tell me why this is so devastating to you. When we spoke last week, you thought Marcus was the most incredible man in the world. I understand what he’s asking of you, to forgo your wedding party is a big thing, but marriage consists of give and take. Is it that he’s uncompromising, disrespectful, selfish? Give me some words to help me understand why you can’t compromise on this.”

  “I haven’t stopped loving him. It’s just that I hate him, too. All of those words apply. He knew I was leaving my friends, my job, for him. He knows how important personal training is to me, and he still wouldn’t postpone business for one day. I feel like a possession. I guess this has been building for a while, ever since you and I talked. You planted some seeds of doubt when you asked me about leaving my work at the gym. I thought he was the one. Believed he was the one. Now I just want him to go away.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe on the way to the airport. Can’t I just write a note and send it and the ring to the airport instead of going myself?”

  “I don’t have a clue about the proper etiquette for breaking an engagement, but since he changed everything with a phone call, you should b
e able to finish it with a note. Are you sure this is what you want to do? When you got here, you were distraught because he was leaving you. Now you seem ready to leave him. You could, you know, make all the necessary phone calls from the plane and go on with your Paris plans as though none of this has happened?”

  “No. I can’t marry him.” She tugged at her ring. “I need to get this off, I need to get if off right now.”

  “Why don’t you step into the bathroom, use some soap to get the ring off and wash your face. See if you don’t feel better. Then we can discuss what you’re going to do about the party.”

  On her way back from the bathroom, Shelly stopped dead in the middle of the room and fingered the ring with brusque, stilted movements.

  She pointed to the storyboard.

  “Why do you have a picture of Marcus pasted there?”

  Twenty-seven

  I spun around, focused on the storyboard. “Which one is Marcus?” Dread spread through my body and my stomach turned over.

  Her eyes were huge, her mouth open. “You know who Marcus is, what he looks like.”

  “How would I know that? I’ve never met him.”

  Total disbelief passed over her face. “The picture. I included his picture in the invitation I handed you.”

  “What?”

  She sighed, impatient. “In your driveway. The invitation. The other day.”

  I slammed the heel of my hand against my forehead. “Oh, no. Damn it how could I have been so stupid?” I sent her an apologetic smile. “So much has been happening that I haven’t opened it yet. It’s here.” I frantically sorted through the papers on my desk. “I’m sorry, Shelly, more than you’ll ever know. Believe me, if I’d seen the picture we’d have had this conversation days ago.”

  Curiosity sizzled through my veins. I had to see this picture. Now. Triumphant, I pulled out the thick cream envelope, slipped my finger under the seal, and tore the invitation open.

  Delano West’s icy gray eyes stared at me from the matte surface.

  “We need to go next door, Shelly, and share your story with some friends of mine.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind me.

  “What’s the matter with you?” She tried to tug her hand free.

  “This is much, much more serious than you can imagine.” I tucked the storyboard under my arm and hustled Shelly out the door and toward Annie’s.

  “Annie? Pierce?” I called, pushing open Annie’s front door without waiting for an invitation. “Where are you? Now. I need to talk to you now.”

  “El? What’s wrong?” Annie asked as she came downstairs to greet us.

  I pulled Shelly up next to me. “This is Shelly Summers. She lives across the cul-de-sac in the white townhouse with dark green trim.”

  “Nice to—”

  I stuck the storyboard in Annie’s face, effectively cutting off her greeting, while I madly tapped my finger on West’s picture. “This is Shelly’s fiancé.”

  Annie’s gaze moved between Shelly and the picture of West. Her eyes dilated to intense black with the barest rim of green, and her breath caught. If I hadn’t been watching carefully, her reaction would have been almost unnoticeable. A tribute to her training, and a reminder that Annie was so much more than my friend and a PI. “Pierce,” she called over her shoulder.

  I set the collage down, caught her eye. “He’s sending someone to pick her up. They’re supposed to fly to Paris this evening.”

  I stopped to catch my breath. Shelly filled the gap. “Who are these people, El? What’s going on?” She looked about ready to take off running so I tightened my grip on her arm, turned to reassure her, and realized she’d caught sight of Pierce moving up behind Annie.

  His mouth was set to grim.

  It didn’t inspire confidence.

  Annie reached over, pried my fingers from Shelly’s arm, and gently clasped her hand. “I’m Annie Stone, Shelly, a private investigator and Delano West is key to one of my cases.”

  Shelly’s forehead wrinkled into a stack of creases as she pulled her hand away from Annie, crossed her arms, and tucked both of her hands flat against her body. “Who is Delano West?”

  I spoke up hoping to prevent another melt down. “Delano West is the man you know as Marcus Stefano. I gently touched her shoulder, smiled. “I know this is a lot to understand in such a short time, but he’s…not a good person.

  Pierce stepped up, extended his hand. “I’m Tynan Pierce, Shelly,” he said softly, laying on a soft Irish brogue. “I work with Annie and we need to ask you some questions.” He guided her to the sofa, sat her down. “We’ve been interested in Mr. Stefano for quite some time.” He caught my eye, mouthed “scotch,” then turned his attention back to Shelly and hunkered down next to her. It decreased his size by a considerable amount. “Tell me about Marcus,” he invited.

  Shelly talked for about thirty minutes, with the occasional interruption to take a sip of scotch or to clarify a point for Annie. I settled into a chair, out of the way but close enough not to miss anything.

  It was amazing to watch Annie and Pierce at work, to listen to the bare bones explanation they gave Shelly that somehow gained them her complete cooperation, calmed her enough to stop her tears, and reduced her frantic movements to the occasional fidget.

  Pierce stood, gave Shelly’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry we had to put you through this, and I want you to know we appreciate it.” He winked at her and backed out of the room as he pulled his cell out of his back pocket. Smooth, very smooth. No surprise there.

  Annie sat next to Shelly on the sofa, reached for her hand. “Stefano’s car is going to come for you soon. Do you understand that we can’t let you leave?” She waited for Shelly to nod. “In fact, we can’t let you go home at all. Not until we know it’s safe.”

  Shelly jerked her hand free. “No. Really, as long as I don’t get in the car I’ll be fine. I need to…pick up my luggage.” Her voice broke. “I guess it doesn’t matter. When I decided not to go with Marcus, I thought I’d spend some time on Emerald Isle. To get away, you know.”

  I sent her a slow, reassuring smile. “You can do that, Shelly. Just not today.”

  “Detective Stone will be here shortly to take you to a safe house,” Annie explained. Shelly’s gaze met mine, panicked.

  “It’s a precaution.” I leaned forward to rest my elbows on my knees. “Annie and Pierce need to know you’re safe so they can do their job.”

  “Their job?” A visible shudder passed through her body and she looked directly at Annie. “You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?”

  Annie nodded, holding her gaze. “Not if we can help it, but yes. If it comes to that, we will. If we don’t, he will kill us. The man you know as Marcus Stefano is a known criminal, psychopathic.”

  Shelly blew out a wisp of air, slammed her eyes shut. “I know. I know you’re right. Just…” She opened her eyes, focused on Annie. “Make it quick. End this nightmare. I wondered why I had started feeling claustrophobic around him. I guess he’s not…right. Not…my knight after all.”

  Annie angled her chin toward me and I took her place on the sofa, wrapped Shelly in a blanket, and let her cry it out.

  When she was down to hiccups and dry sobs, I handed her another bottle of water, “Drink. This has been a shock. What you did today? It took courage.”

  She gave me a watery smile. “You’re drowning me in water. I’m going to be all right, Everly. It’s just too much, all of a sudden like this. I still haven’t faced the lesbian experience, worked through that.”

  Adam stuck his head around the front door, took in the situation, nodded. “Annie and Pierce?”

  “Upstairs.”

  He pushed the door open, reached back to take the elbow of the woman standing behind him. “Shelly,” he said as he approached, moving cautiously. “I’m Detective Adam Stone and this is Dr. Lisa Shaffer. She’s our staff psychologist and will be staying with you as long as you’re in our care.”

&nbs
p; “I…sleep, Detective Stone. I just need a place to hide and sleep until this is over.”

  Lisa Shaffer stepped forward. “Think of me as a body guard with benefits, Shelly.” Her smile was genuine and warm.

  It was hard not to like Dr. Shaffer. She looked like everyone’s favorite grandmother with her white hair and rounded body; plus she carried an air of calm, capable warmth. I had no doubt Shelly would feel safe with her as soon as the shock wore off.

  A uniform appeared at the door, signaled to Adam.

  “We have to leave now.” He tapped his watch.

  Shelly took a few steps then turned to me. I held my arms out for a quick hug. “We’ll talk later.”

  She slid the ring out of her pocket, handed it to me, turned on her heel, and followed Adam and Dr. Shaffer out the door.

  As soon as the front door closed, Pierce and Annie came back downstairs.

  I barely recognized them as they ran through a weapons check.

  They were dressed to kill.

  Literally.

  And it scared me.

  Annie grinned. “We’re the same people, just in a role you haven’t seen before. The plan is for Pierce and me to take Shelly’s ride to the airport.” She shrugged. “Seemed silly to let a perfectly good limo go to waste.”

  “Ready to roll?” Pierce asked.

  He took my shoulders, turned me to face him. “You need to stay in. Lock the doors and don’t open them unless it’s me or A.J. Unless there’s somewhere else you can go that would be safer?”

  He was thinking of my childhood home, I could tell by the timbre of his brogue, but I didn’t want to be tucked away while everyone I cared about was in the thick of things. My curiosity would go berserk. And I seriously did not want to bring this mess into my retreat. Way too much drama.

  “I’ll stay here. Locked up tight, I promise. Be careful, both of you.” Annie locked her door behind us, and I gave each of them a hug. Hugging Tynan Pierce? An experience to remember. The man gives good hug, and the twinkle in his eyes and the trace of satisfied male in his smile told me he knew it.