by Charly Cox
Through the grapevine, she’d heard that HBO had offered the woman and her parents a lucrative sum for their story. The parents had informed them that their daughter’s suffering was not for sale and to never call again before hanging up on the caller.
Someone tapped her arm, and Alyssa turned to her left. Her partner, Cord Roberts, leaned his head toward the exit, and Alyssa nodded, giving the parents’ shoulders a squeeze as she stood to leave.
Outside, she shooed a stray cat away as she, Cord, and her favorite forensic artist, Liz Waterson – who had rendered the sketch that led to Bloomfield’s arrest – walked down the steps of the county building.
Liz’s satchel containing her sketch pad, charcoals, pencils, and facial recognition catalog thumped against her back as she slowed her pace to match Alyssa’s. Years ago, someone had asked Liz why she always had ‘those things’ with her, and she’d said, ‘I’m superstitious that way,’ and left it at that. Now, she swiped an imaginary check mark in the air and said, ‘One less pervert roaming the streets.’
‘Unfortunately, there’s never a shortage of them out there,’ Alyssa said as Cord nodded his agreement.
‘Sadly, that’s true,’ Liz replied, before moving ahead. ‘I’ll catch you two later. I’m off to the cemetery. Thirty-seven.’ She waved before trotting down the rest of the steps and heading in the opposite direction.
Every year on her sister’s birthday, Liz announced the age her sister would’ve been and placed flowers on the grave. Five years ago, just as Cord was signing on as her partner, Alyssa had solved the mystery of Liz’s murdered sibling. Unknown to her family, an ex-boyfriend of Amelia’s had started coming back around. When she rebuffed him, his explosive temper had taken over, and after beating her, he shot her in the face point blank.
It had taken Alyssa less than a week to determine who Amelia’s killer was and arrest him. Shortly after the man’s conviction, Liz requested to be transferred to their precinct. Alyssa wished it hadn’t been under those circumstances, but she was grateful to have her on their team.
Before heading the one block to the designated parking garage for officers and courthouse officials, Alyssa pulled out her phone and turned the sound back on. When she saw the blinking blue light, she opened her texts to find a message from her husband, asking how things had gone.
Guilty on all charges, she replied before catching up to her partner who waited at the corner.
‘Wish you and Sara could’ve come to Holly’s party,’ she said, switching gears from professional to personal. ‘It might’ve been easier to ignore Mabel if you’d been there. I swear that woman could drive Mother Teresa to drink if she was still alive.’ That woman was Alyssa’s interfering mother-in-law who never passed up an opportunity to let her daughter-in-law know how she felt about her.
‘Sorry, Lys. Had a ball game to play. You know how it goes.’
‘Still wish you’d been there. Then you’d see once and for all I haven’t been exaggerating about her all these years.’
‘Never thought you were,’ Cord said. ‘At least you can be grateful you don’t have to deal with her every Sunday anymore.’
‘True. Yet, she still finds a way to make my Land of Enchantment a House of Horrors.’ Alyssa grimaced, remembering the days when Mabel had insisted on spending Sundays with her beloved son and grandchildren. Now, however, both Holly and Isaac were teenagers with busy schedules, so the Sunday ritual had thankfully gone by the wayside. Still, the time spent with her husband’s mother came all too frequently for her taste.
But she tolerated it because Mabel was the only grandparent her children had. Brock’s father had died before Holly was born, and her own parents… well, even if they had been alive, there was no telling what kind of grandparents they’d have been. Would her children, like her, be nothing more than a daily reminder of Alyssa’s mistake?
She slowed as they came to one of her favorite cafés situated next door to the parking garage. ‘I need coffee. Want some?’ she asked, already reaching for the door.
Predictably, her partner shook his head even as he reached around her to hold the door. Chivalrous to the bone. ‘No, thank you. I’ll never understand how you ever manage to sleep with all that caffeine running through your veins.’
As they waited in line, Alyssa continued where she’d left off. ‘Did I tell you Mabel mentioned buying that vacant house on our street so she could be closer?’ She winced, remembering the panic she’d felt at that prospect.
‘You ever consider she gives you such a hard time because she knows you don’t like her?’ Cord asked, reaching out to steady an inattentive twenty-something girl who nearly collided into him as she texted on her phone and then had the audacity to glare at him as if it had been his fault instead of hers.
Alyssa ignored the people around her and stared at her partner like he’d suddenly grown two heads. ‘What? Just, what? Haven’t you been listening? She has never liked me. Ever. Seriously, the woman wore all black to our wedding! If people didn’t know better, they would’ve thought they were attending a wake!’
‘Maybe black’s her color.’
Her response was to roll her eyes. ‘She’s rude and undermines everything I say.’
‘I don’t know what to tell you, my friend. You know the saying, though – kill ’em with kindness.’ Cord winked.
‘Sure, that’ll work. Not.’ Now at the front of the line, she paused long enough to place her order, a grande black coffee, no room for cream, and a decaf passion fruit tea for Cord, though he hadn’t asked for it. ‘I know it was Holly’s birthday, but, Lord Almighty, I didn’t think that party was ever going to end!’
Cord leaned against the counter as Alyssa watched the barista make three fancy coffees before finally pouring her brew. Her mouth salivated. The poor kid behind the counter barely had a chance to set the cup down before she snatched it up and took a careful sip. Her eyes nearly rolled to the back of her head as she let out a sigh of contentment.
‘Ever consider that addiction of yours might cause a health issue somewhere down the road?’ Cord asked as they headed back outside. It wasn’t the first time he’d posed the question to her.
And her answer was the same as always. ‘Nope. So, do you want to take a stab at what she got Holly for her birthday? Even Brock ’bout lost his mind,’ she said as they made their way up the ramp to where Alyssa’s car was parked. ‘Isaac, on the other hand, suddenly became the most attentive brother on the planet when he saw what his grandmother got her. He was tripping all over himself trying to please his sister. If I hadn’t been so pissed, it would’ve even been funny. Go ahead. Guess.’
‘A yacht? A Lamborghini?’ Cord volunteered.
Alyssa shot her partner what both her kids called ‘the mom look.’ Paired with her ‘detective look,’ it could bode danger for the person on the receiving end. ‘Be serious. Plane tickets to Europe this summer with any friend of her choice. All summer. Any friend. That’s what.’ Alyssa, trim, athletic, and solid at five foot three, had a six-foot-four attitude when she was good and angry, and this weekend, she’d definitely been good and angry.
Cord choked on his tea, and his eyes widened comically. ‘Seriously? How can I get your mother-in-law to adopt me?’
‘You can have her,’ she muttered under her breath.
Cord laughed. ‘Just kidding, but seriously, didn’t the woman ever see Taken, that movie where girls are kidnapped in Europe and set up for human trafficking?’
‘Exactly my point. We already told her no when she suggested it two months ago. She “just wants to give her first grandchild the experience of a lifetime,”’ Alyssa mimicked her mother-in-law. ‘We even explained – well, Brock did because she sure as hell wasn’t listening to me – that we weren’t comfortable with the idea of Holly traipsing around Europe by herself. Her solution was to get two tickets so she wouldn’t be alone.’
Her Chevy Tahoe in sight, Alyssa pressed her key fob twice to unlock the doors. Before Cord slid i
nto the passenger side, he glanced up and then cleared his throat in a way that told her whatever he was about to say, she wasn’t going to like.
‘Holly is eighteen now. Maybe it’s time to let her get some life experiences under her belt.’
She was right. She didn’t like it. She glared at her partner over the hood of the car. ‘Life experiences? Why does she need to go to Europe to get life experiences? She can get them just fine here in New Mexico.’
What Alyssa didn’t mention was that she knew, if push came to shove, that Holly was now legally an adult and could venture anywhere she liked with whomever she liked, with or without her parents’ permission. Of course, since she was still living under their roof…
Alyssa opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. As soon as Cord climbed in, she said, ‘You know what, forget I brought it up.’ She knew his silence was less capitulation than it was speculation. Either way, for now, the subject was closed.
She turned the ignition and shifted into reverse just as her phone rang, the car’s built-in Bluetooth flashing the caller’s name. Foot on the brake, Alyssa pressed the button to answer the call.
‘You’re needed for a missing person’s call,’ Ruby, the squadron’s no-nonsense secretary said before Alyssa could issue a greeting. Once upon a time, there’d been a secret pool placing bets on Ruby’s age. Nobody had won because she’d found out, and there’d been hell to pay. Getting on Ruby’s bad side was never a good idea. It had been said that the cops in her precinct would rather face a gunman than a pissed-off Ruby.
‘Joe and Tony are already there, taking the initial report. Husband reports wife was missing when he came home from work. Name’s McCormick, Rafe and Callie.’ She rattled off an address and then snapped out, ‘Are you getting all this down, Detective?’
Alyssa could picture the woman looking down her bespectacled nose as she barked out information.
‘I’ve got it, Ruby,’ Cord answered. ‘And we’re on it.’
‘Good,’ was all she said before she ended the call, making both of them chuckle. Not even Cord’s charming personality could melt Ruby’s outer shell. Warm was definitely not a word one would use to describe the grandmotherly-looking secretary. It was a clear case of deceptive appearances.
‘Well, I didn’t really want to do any paperwork today anyway,’ Alyssa said as she released the brake and headed to the McCormick residence.
Chapter Three
Monday, March 25, 8:00a.m.
Callie opened the shower door, steam billowing behind her. Absently, she pulled a towel off the heated towel rack – something she didn’t know existed until she’d married Rafe – thinking of all the things she needed to get accomplished today. She considered writing a list, not that she necessarily needed it; she just felt more of a sense of achievement when she could mark things off. In fact, there were times when she made her list, did something that wasn’t already on it, then wrote it down simply so she could cross it off. Oh well, she thought. There were worse things in life than being obsessive compulsive.
As she stood there debating whether or not to pen her To-Do list, she heard Scorpions singing ‘Wind of Change,’ and she scrambled to answer the phone before it went to voicemail.
‘Hello?’ she said breathlessly.
‘Busy?’ her husband asked.
Did he sound irritated, or was it just her imagination? ‘Just got out of the shower. Why?’ Sometimes Rafe called just to chat, but, more often, he needed her to do something.
‘I called the service shop to have your transmission looked at. You have an appointment at nine. Can you make that?’
Callie glanced at the clock sitting on her nightstand. 8:07. If she hurried, she could make it. She stifled her frustration that Rafe rarely considered what her schedule may be like before he made appointments for her. Sighing, she reminded herself he was only trying to be helpful, even if it was mainly because he was tired of hearing her nag about the trouble with her car. For weeks, an awful grinding and clunking sound could be heard under the hood.
If only she’d paid attention when her father had tried to teach her about vehicles, she might’ve been able to figure it out herself. Growing up, she understood her family couldn’t afford to take their cars somewhere else to be repaired, but as a teenager, she couldn’t be bothered to learn. And even though she could now afford simply to buy another vehicle, like Rafe urged her to do, she liked her Jeep. ‘Sure. I can make that. I’ll just move some things around,’ Callie said.
‘Good.’ He paused then added, ‘I tried calling you earlier, but it went straight to voicemail.’
This time, the accusation in his voice was clear.
‘I was either in the shower or talking to Terrie.’ She pulled her phone away from her ear long enough to see that she had, indeed, missed a call. ‘Well, I need to finish getting ready so I’m not late.’ She hesitated a beat before adding, ‘Thanks for calling the shop for me.’
‘No problem. See you tonight.’
‘See –’ Rafe was already gone. ‘All righty then,’ she said, setting the phone on the sink. Before she donned her skirt and blouse, she stood in front of the mirror, examining her body from various angles, frowning as she did, unhappy at the few extra pounds she’d packed on. Even though Rafe hadn’t specifically said anything about it, she felt like he looked at her differently. ‘It’s not entirely my fault I’ve gained a little weight,’ she said to her image. ‘With all the charity boards Rafe wants me on, it’s not like I have as much time to hit the gym.’ Where they’d first met nine and a half years ago. Theirs had been a whirlwind romance with him treating her to fancy dinners at fancy restaurants with menus that didn’t bother to display prices – places which, in her world, existed only in movies. And before she’d known what was happening, they were married.
She feared the concept of further change in her body was the main reason behind her husband’s refusal to discuss the possibility of her becoming pregnant. Before they’d married, they’d agreed on waiting five years before trying. That time had elapsed by an additional four plus years.
Callie shook her head. She didn’t have time to ponder why her husband suddenly clammed up when she brought up the subject of adding to their family of two. Before her emotions could get away from her, she slapped on some eyeshadow and mascara, then dried and brushed her long, unruly hair before tying it back into a low ponytail.
After another quick peek in the mirror, she deemed her appearance good enough, and grabbed her purse, making sure to slip her e-reader into the pocket. She wanted to have something to do while she waited for her vehicle to be serviced. Unlike Rafe, she was unable to sit for more than fifteen minutes without having a book to read or a puzzle to solve.
In the garage, she climbed into her Jeep and started it, wincing at the sound that escaped from beneath the hood. She was glad it was a short drive to the dealership’s service station.
* * *
Five minutes after she arrived, Callie handed her keys to the service technician and went to the lobby, prepared to sit for the next hour or so. So far, she was the only customer inside. She spotted a freshly brewed pot of coffee sitting in the corner of the room and helped herself to a cup. Taking a small sip to test its bitterness, she nodded in approval. It was better than most service station coffees. Even so, she added a liberal amount of sugar and cheap powdered creamer to improve the taste.
On her way back to her seat, she stopped to peruse the various magazines strewn about and decided she really didn’t need to read about ‘15 Ways to Please Your Man’ or ‘The Top Ten Things Your Man Wants You to Do, But is Too Afraid to Ask.’ Really? Who supplied this stuff?
She glanced around the little room, but saw no newspapers in sight, which was good because she was on a self-imposed media strike, refusing to read or watch what was going on in the corrupted world around her. Some days, she even refused to watch the weather channel, something that irritated Rafe. As Callie made her way across the lobby, she glan
ced at the television in the corner, recognizing the current morning show as one she used to enjoy. She sat in a chair furthest from the mechanic’s workshop but closest to the window. She set her purse and bottled water in the seat next to her, settled in, and grabbed her e-reader, ready to continue the romantic suspense story she’d started late the night before while Rafe watched some reality show he was currently addicted to.
She’d been reading for approximately ten minutes when another customer, an older man, walked into the room. He looked to be in his late sixties and was hunched over, wearing a red flannel shirt and worn jeans with holes in the knees and frayed edges on the hems. He reminded her of the cranky neighbor she’d had as a child. She watched as his eyes wandered the room before he chose the chair next to her.
There was a small table separating the two of them, and Callie wondered why in the world the man would choose to sit practically on top of her when there was plenty of available seating. Slightly annoyed, she went back to reading.
She jumped when the man suddenly exclaimed, ‘I don’t believe it. No one wants to work at anything anymore. If it ain’t easy, just give up.’ Callie glanced up to see if he was speaking to her or merely talking out loud. Since he was staring at the television, she turned to look. Someone had changed the channel and turned up the sound, but she’d been so absorbed in her story, she hadn’t noticed.
The news anchors, or whatever they were called, were discussing yet another celebrity couple who had announced they were splitting up after nine years of marriage, but who still loved each other and would remain steadfast friends.