A Whole Latte Murder

by Caroline Fardig

  “Did you call the station or talk to any of the other cops?” he asked calmly.

  “Yes! I called everyone!”

  “I’m on my way back now. Sit tight, Jules.”

  I flopped down on the sofa and cried. I simply couldn’t take any more. After what seemed like an eternity, Pete came through the door and rushed over to me. He sat next to me and gathered me into his arms, trying to shush my crying, but in reality his gentleness only brought on another unstoppable wave of tears.

  “Hey, Jules, calm down for a sec. We’re going to figure out where he is,” Pete said.

  Failing to get myself under control, I blubbered, “I’ve looked everywhere and called everyone!”

  “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.”

  “Yes, like maybe he’s been thrown into the bushes at some park like a piece of garbage!”

  Pete took my face in his hands and forced me to look at him. “No. You’re not going to think that way. Maybe his phone is dead. Maybe he’s undercover and can’t answer his phone. Did you ever think of that?”

  “Why would he be undercover? He’s working homicide, not vice.”

  “There could be a million reasons why he’s not answering. Maybe it’s as simple as he drove somewhere rural and lost his signal. You’re exhausted, and your brain is fried. You’re jumping to crazy conclusions.”

  “Don’t call me crazy,” I snapped, pulling away from him.

  Pete sighed and with overexaggerated patience said, “I didn’t call you crazy, Jules. I’m just trying—”

  There was a knock at the door.

  Pete gestured toward the door. “See? That could be him right now.”

  A ripple of hope coursed through me at the thought. I hurried over, and when I opened the door, elation flooded my entire being. Ryder was standing there, unharmed. I nearly collapsed with relief.

  “Ryder! You’re alive!”

  I rushed into his arms and squeezed him tightly. But as my fear and anxiety ebbed, something else sparked inside me. I pushed back from him and slugged him in the chest. He didn’t flinch when I hit him, which pissed me off even more.

  “Why didn’t you call me? I’ve been worried sick!” I cried.

  Pete got up from the couch and slunk out the door. I didn’t blame him. It was about to get ugly up in here.

  Ryder shut the door. “I’m sorry. I was following a lead and lost track of time.”

  “Did you lose track of your phone, too?”

  “I had it turned off.”

  I threw my hands in the air. “Seriously? Well, did you lose track of your partner as well? Because Cromwell didn’t have a damn clue where you were, either.”

  Crossing his arms, he replied, “He and I don’t have to be joined at the hip all the time.”

  “Look, I don’t mind so much that you’re late. It’s not about that. I’m upset because you’re currently tracking a killer who’s quite possibly taken someone I care about and seems to be on a rampage. If you tell me you’re going to meet me or check in at a certain time, I want the courtesy that you’ll actually do it!”

  His eyes got hard. “Oh, so now I have to check in with you?”

  “You’re twisting my words. Do you not care that I’ve been beside myself for an hour worrying about you?”

  “You need to get over this worrying nonsense. My job is dangerous, but I’m good at what I do. The sooner you can come to terms with that, the better off you’ll be.”

  “So I shouldn’t care that much whether you live or die?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t be so dramatic, Juliet.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Well, maybe I wouldn’t be if this weren’t the hundredth time this week you’ve blown me off to work this case!”

  “It hasn’t been a hundred times.”

  Rather than fully unleashing the Redheaded She-Devil, I stopped and studied him for a moment. He showed no remorse and had barely apologized to me. This wasn’t the Ryder who had swept me off my feet with his charming machismo and snarky wit. He was different. Cold. Distant. Angry, even.

  “Maybe we should take a break.” The words were out of my mouth before I’d completely thought it through, but once I said them, I surprisingly felt a little better.

  Frowning, he said, “Come on. You’re just mad at me.”

  “No, it’s more than that. I don’t need to be anyone’s second choice.”

  His face fell. “Give me another chance, Juliet.”

  “I am. That’s why I don’t want to force anything right now. After this case is over, we’ll give it another try. But right now, I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re quitting,” he growled. “Just like you did when we first met.”

  “I’m saving what’s left of my sanity. And if you don’t want another chance later on, by all means, keep talking.”

  “I’m done talking.” He walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

  I sank back down onto the couch, placing my throbbing head gingerly in my hands.

  After a moment, Pete peeked his head into the office. “You okay, Jules?”

  Lifting my head up, I said, “Yeah, just great.”

  “What the hell happened?”

  “I’m not sure. I told him I wanted to take a break, and then he got pissed and said he was done talking. I don’t know if we’re broken up or not.”

  He shrugged. “You two are such hotheads, I’m surprised you lasted this long.”

  “What? No ‘I’m sorry you guys are going through a rough patch’ or anything like that?”

  Coming over to sit next to me, he said, “Well, no, because I’m not sorry. I’ve never thought he was good enough for you, and this only proves my point. He’s broken dates with you all week. He has always put you last, even from the very beginning. You deserve more than that. I’m happy you’ve finally begun to see the light.”

  “Whoa, wait a minute. I thought you two had worked out your problems and were cool with each other.”

  Pete smiled. “I may have decided for your sake to look past our differences, but I’ve never trusted him not to break your heart. He’s not the one for you, Jules.”

  His words hit me in the gut. I didn’t know how to respond. I stood up. “I…um…I need some dinner. See you later.”

  I hurried out of the office, grabbing my keys on the way. The coffeehouse, normally my favorite place to be, suddenly felt like it was pressing in on me. I had to get out of there. Even though my feet protested every step of the way, I jogged the couple of blocks to my apartment and raced up the rusty stairs to my door. I let myself inside and slouched against the door, finally feeling at ease. My apartment wasn’t much, but it was home, and it seemed like I hadn’t been here for an eternity.

  Not long after I got home, I had a call from Polly saying that the numbers in all the groups had dwindled so drastically, she’d made the decision to halt the search for the night. I was relieved. No sooner than I had that thought, I felt horrible for being happy I didn’t have to go back out and look for Kira. She wasn’t any less missing, but the community seemed to have lost the interest—or in my case the energy—to look for her.

  Even though it was still a few minutes before eight o’clock, I crawled into bed and pulled the covers tight around me. My aching body and frazzled mind were so ready for some rest, I fell asleep instantly.

  —

  What the hell? Some jackass was banging on my door, waking me from the most peaceful sleep I’d ever had in my life. I looked at the clock. It was ten-thirty. I clamped my pillow over my ears to drown out the noise. Damn college kids. I’d bet anything one of them was drunk and had the wrong apartment. Maybe they’d figure it out and go away.

  “Juliet! Open up! I know you’re home. This is important.” The voice was muffled, but I thought I recognized it as Trevor’s.

  Cursing the whole way, I got out of bed and stomped to my door. When I wrenched it open, I said, “You’d better have a damn good
reason to be waking me up.”

  “I think I found Kira.”

  Chapter 17

  “What?” I exclaimed. “Where?”

  Trevor flicked his eyes down the hall toward her apartment, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I…There’s a light on in her window. It wasn’t on earlier. Someone’s there.”

  “Did you knock on the door to find out?”

  He fidgeted with the drawstring on his hoodie. “Um…no.” Looking at me pleadingly, he said, “What if it’s Chelsea all over again? I can’t go in that apartment.”

  “And you thought I would want to?” I snapped before thinking. When his face fell, I said, “I’m sorry. We’re all a little stressed. How about this—we’ll go knock, and if no one comes to the door, we’ll call the cops. Deal?”

  Trevor blew out a breath. “Deal.”

  We walked slowly across the balcony, neither of us relishing the thought of a replay of Wednesday night. When we got to the door, I knocked tentatively. We waited, but when no one answered, Trevor nudged me and pointed to the door. I knocked more forcefully this time, and after a few seconds Kira opened the door a crack.

  Trevor and I both shouted, “Kira!”

  Startled by our outburst, Kira shrank back and started to close the door.

  “Wait, Kira. We want to know that you’re okay,” I said gently, trying to calm her down.

  Trevor took a more direct approach. Pushing me aside, he stuck his foot in the door and forced it open. “Kira, what the hell? We’ve been looking for you for twenty-four hours straight! No one knew where you were, and now you just show up at your apartment? Start talking!”

  Wow. I’d never seen this much fire out of Trevor.

  Kira cast her eyes down. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I…fell. And…blacked out. I didn’t know people were looking for me.”

  “Bullshit,” Trevor growled. “Word was all over campus, the news, and social media. Unless you’ve been under a rock, you knew.”

  “I’m sorry you wasted your time looking for me.” Her mouth set in an angry line, she wiped a tear that had fallen down her cheek. When she raised her hand, I noticed a bandage sticking out of the wrist of her sweater.

  I asked, “What happened to you, Kira? Why is your wrist bandaged?”

  Tugging both of her sleeves down and crossing her arms tightly over her chest, she said, “I told you—I fell.”

  The door of the neighboring apartment opened, and that idiot Jasper stumbled out. “Hey, guys, what’s up?” When his eyes focused and he saw Kira, his jaw dropped. “Kira…you’re alive. We thought…we thought you were dead!”

  While Trevor and I had our attention turned to Jasper, Kira slammed her door and turned out her lights.

  Trevor swore under his breath. “Well, now what?”

  I said, “Now I let Stafford know he can call off the search. It’s Kira’s problem to explain to him where she disappeared to.”

  When Trevor and I brushed past Jasper to head back to our apartments, Jasper drawled, “Hey, sexy mama. Why don’t you come in for a beer? I’d like to see what it does to that tank top you’re wearing.”

  “Piss off, Jasper.” In hindsight, it would have been smart to throw on a robe or a jacket before coming outside in my pajamas. I had on my usual nightwear—flannel sleep pants and an old Belmont University tank top, which was frankly getting threadbare, with no bra. And it was rather chilly outside. I crossed my arms over my chest and stalked back to my apartment.

  The news about Kira definitely deserved more than a simple check-in text to Stafford. I called him, hoping I wasn’t waking him up from his own much-needed sleep.

  “Hello,” he said. He sounded groggy.

  “Hey, John, it’s Juliet. Um…I’m sorry to call so late, but this couldn’t wait.”

  “It’s fine. You know you can call me anytime for any reason.”

  I took a deep breath. “Kira Gibson is alive, and she’s in her apartment.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line.

  “John?” I said.

  “Yeah. Sorry. I’m stunned. I’ll…I’ll be right over. Don’t let her leave.”

  Don’t let her leave? “Um…okay.”

  After I hung up with Stafford, I went and got Trevor and had him stand guard at Kira’s door while I changed into something presentable. After what had happened the last time Stafford came to my apartment, I wanted to make sure I was properly and fully dressed this time. He must have been close, because by the time I got changed and down to Kira’s door, Stafford’s car was screaming into the lot. He got out and raced up the steps, practically skidding to a halt in front of Trevor and me.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked me, his face concerned.

  “Yeah, a few minutes ago, Trevor noticed a light on in Kira’s window, and he came to get me. After we found Chelsea, neither one of us really wanted to go check the apartment, but Kira answered when we knocked.” I paused a moment before adding, “She’s acting really strangely.”

  Stafford nodded. “I’ll have a chat with her, and then I may want to talk with you two again as well. You can go home for now.”

  Trevor and I again shuffled to our respective apartments while Stafford knocked on Kira’s door. I flung myself down on my couch and turned on my TV to try to numb my brain, but when a passing thought of Ryder entered my head, I immediately clicked the TV back off. Thanks to my dickhead ex-fiancé stealing all my possessions last year, I didn’t have a TV, so Ryder had bought me one for Christmas. I’d balked at the extravagance of the gift, but he claimed it was so he could watch TV when he came over. Now I wondered if he’d ever come over again.

  I rose and got myself a beer, hoping it would calm me down enough so I could eventually go back to sleep. Stafford knocked on my door a while later. He looked beat.

  “Come on in.” I held up my bottle. “Want a beer?”

  He walked into my apartment and shut the door behind him. “Thanks. I could use one.”

  “I would have thought finding Kira would be cause for excitement,” I said, retrieving another bottle from the refrigerator.

  He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “Me, too, but speaking to her only raised more questions for me.”

  I handed him his beer and motioned for him to sit on the couch with me. “Same here.”

  After dropping down heavily next to me, he said, “Walk me through everything that happened tonight.”

  I started with Trevor waking me up and recounted everything I could remember about our odd conversation with Kira. “Unfortunately, we got interrupted by her neighbor. Kira took the opportunity to slam the door in our faces. Stupid Jasper.”

  “Jasper? That dick in apartment 28?”

  I burst out laughing at his out-of-character remark. “Is that your professional assessment of him, Detective?”

  Stafford smiled. “I had the pleasure of talking to him a couple days ago. That kid is a piece of work.”

  “Tell me about it. Of course he took the opportunity to say something sleazy to me as Trevor and I were walking away.”

  I noticed his grip tense on his bottle and his eyes narrow. “You want me to go over there and have a talk with him for you?”

  I hid a smile. “No, but thank you for the offer.”

  After we nursed our beers for a while, I asked, “John, did you talk to Kira about the bandages on her wrists?”

  “If I did, I couldn’t tell you.”

  “I know, but…I can’t shake the feeling that she’s been abused. And I don’t think this is the first time.”

  Stafford nodded, his face somber. “I can’t do anything about it unless she seeks medical treatment or files a complaint. And even then, assault is hard to prove in court unless there are witnesses. My hands are tied.”

  “Wait. You said you can’t do anything unless she seeks medical treatment. She did. It was…” I thought back to the conversation I overheard between Brooke and Ryder this morning. “It was Thursday. She
went to the Vanderbilt ER. You can ask Brooke Nussbaum. She was the nurse who treated Kira.”

  He eyed me skeptically. “And this nurse just spilled her guts and told you all about treating one of her patients?”

  I glanced away, not really wanting to admit to eavesdropping. “I…um…I might have overheard her telling Ryder about it.”

  He couldn’t contain his smile. “You’re very nosy, you know that?”

  I hid my face with my hands. “I know, I know.” I peeked out at him from between my fingers and pleaded, “Please don’t tell anyone I told you this, especially Ryder. He’s not exactly thrilled with me right now.”

  “Oh, really?”

  A knock at the door saved me from having to tell Stafford any more about my breakup, or whatever it was, with Ryder. But, unfortunately, when I opened the door, Ryder himself was standing there.

  “I heard you found Kira. Why didn’t you call me?” he demanded, zeroing his gaze in on me.

  I thought I was done having to deal with him for today. “Well, for starters, it’s not your case. And given our earlier—”

  “What’s he doing here?” he interrupted me with a growl, now focused on Stafford, who was staring back warily.

  “Questioning me about tonight, because it’s his case,” I said sharply.

  Barging in uninvited, Ryder gave Stafford one of his condescending glares. “So, Stafford, looks like you’re using a new tactic to conduct interviews now. Tell me, does the beer help make your witnesses more candid? Or does cozying up next to them do the trick?”

  Stafford got up, shaking his head in disgust. He muttered, “I’m not doing this,” brushing past us and out the door.

  “Was that necessary?” I asked Ryder wearily.

  “It was if he’s trying to move in on my territory.”

  I stared at him. “Did you just call me your territory?”

  His eyes widened, and he instantly dropped the macho act. “That came out wrong. I’m sorry.”

  “You should be! Stafford is one of your colleagues, and he was only doing his job. So what if I was having a beer and offered him one, too? I don’t think he was even on duty tonight, yet he came over to check on the situation with Kira personally.” Fuming, I added, “Oh, and another thing—you don’t own me!”