“Good work.”
“Lucky break,” Sam countered, ever humble.
“Strange the husband hasn’t called in a missing person.”
“Very strange indeed.”
They came to a stop at apartment 22B and flanked the door, eyes locking as Linc gave a solid knock, still frowning down at the photo.
They’d expected to be met with the groom in the photo when the door swung open. So when an older woman appeared, raising her gray eyebrows, Sam and Linc had a moment of pause. Wearing beige slacks and a beige cashmere sweater, the woman had stark straight gray hair, gray eyes, and a string of pearls hanging from her neck.
Linc lifted his badge. “Good morning, ma’am, SRPD.” He spoke the name that had been attached to the reception’s credit card receipt. “Are you Mary Richardson?”
“Yes,” Mary nodded, wide gray eyes blinking rapidly as she brought a wrinkled hand to her heart.
Sam lifted the photograph of Gregory and Kathy Richardson at their wedding reception. “Do you know this man?”
“Well, yes. He’s my son.”
“So you know Kathy Richardson?” Sam asked.
Mary sputtered. “Of course. My daughter-in-law. They just got married.” A slow smile spread on her face. “Oh, she was such a beautiful bride.”
“You paid for their wedding reception, correct?” Linc asked.
“And the ceremony,” Mary said. “It’s standard for the parents to foot the bill, after all.”
“Your son is worth a lot of money,” Linc said. “Why would he choose to have his wedding reception on the hill, in Little Mexico?”
“Please don’t get me started.” Mary deadpanned. “Kathy insisted. For nostalgia’s sake, I suppose. Said it reminded her of her home in Guatemala. Thankfully, most of the guests found my daughter-in-law’s unconventional choice of venue more charming than crass.” She rolled her gray eyes, and a moment later, the wrinkles in her face deepened. “What’s going on, officers?”
“Why don’t you let us ask the questions?” Sam’s voice remained friendly even as she made demands.
Mary’s eyes widened, hand coming over her heart once more. “Forgive me.”
“We have a warrant to search the premises.” Sam removed the warrant from her pocket and held it up.
Mary didn’t hesitate to step away from the door, motioning for them to come in. “Well, you wouldn’t have needed one. I’m Blue Lives Matter, through and through. I’d never give the police any trouble—Oh!” she shrieked when, the moment she opened the door to invite them in, Sam and Linc drew their guns, pointing them inside the apartment.
Guns primed, they stepped inside and split up, moving through the upscale unit with strong, sure strides. Only after they’d checked and cleared every room did they meet up in the foyer, where Mary still had a hand over her heart, chest heaving, her eyes wide as saucers.
“What on Earth is this about?” she demanded.
Linc approached the living room mantle, pointing to a plethora of family photos that sat on top of the fireplace.
“That’s Kathy,” Mary nodded. “What in the world is going on?”
Linc faced her as Sam came up next to him, deciding to put the woman out of her misery. “She’s dead.”
Mary gave a sharp gasp, hurrying across the room to join them at the mantle.
Sam motioned to the photos on the mantle as Mary approached. “He’s got Kathy locked in his arms pretty tight in most of these photos. Was your son the possessive type? Jealous?”
Understanding the insinuation, Mary was left sputtering, still visibly recovering from her shock. “Gregory would never hurt Kathy. He worships the ground she walks on.” She stumbled. “Of course he’s got her wrapped up tight. Forgive me, but it’s clear that my son isn’t going to be winning any Sexiest Man Alive awards anytime soon. He knew what he had from the moment that vision in white said, ‘I do.’”
“Yeah, she was a real vision the other night too,” Linc said. “When we found her face down next to a trashcan with her teeth pulled and her face seared off.”
Sam stepped in front of Linc when Mary gasped again. “Do you know where Gregory is?” When Mary shook her head, Sam pushed. “Can you call him and find out, please?”
Mary seemed to have a moment where she was re-thinking her “Blue Lives Matter” stance—which was natural. It was a woman’s most primal instinct to protect her child from harm, and at that moment, the sight of Linc and Sam gaping at her spelled nothing but harm for her son. Even if they did have shiny police badges hanging from their necks.
Still, Blue Lives Matter seemed to win over, because Mary bent down and seized her cell phone from the coffee table, struggling to dial a number as it wobbled in her hold.
“Speakerphone,” Sam said.
Mary did what was asked, putting the phone on speaker and holding it out between them. The ringing sang out into the air.
Then the phone clicked. “Ma, I can’t talk.”
“Gregory,” Mary’s voice shook. “Where are you?”
Silence.
Gregory must’ve noted his mother’s quivering tone and realized something was off. “I can’t talk.”
The phone clicked as he ended the call.
Mary’s wide eyes, now filled with tears, rose to Sam and Linc.
But they weren’t looking at her—eyes instead locked to each other. Sam took Linc’s arm, moving him out of earshot.
“Did you hear that noise in the background?” Sam whispered to him.
“Sounded like slot machines.”
An unspoken understanding passed between them and, without another word, Linc and Sam left the apartment in a hurry, not even bidding Mary goodbye.
——
As they made their way through the parking lot of The Navajo Casino, built on a small Indian reservation in downtown Shadow Rock, Linc and Sam had already prepared themselves for disappointment. They’d already accepted the fact that Gregory Richardson would be extremely difficult to find in the hectic casino that was always filled to the hilt. That the phone call with his mother may have alerted him that something was amiss and caused him to flee. That finding the truth about Kathy Richardson’s murder might be just out of their reach once more. So, as they approached the casino entrance, and Sam’s eyes narrowed to the end of the sidewalk, she could hardly believe what she saw.
She came to a rapid halt, just a few feet away from the entry doors.
Linc didn’t notice she’d stopped until he held the door open for her and realized she was no longer behind him. The music of the slot machines inside snuck out into the open air as he shot Sam a look over his shoulder. Noting that something had caught her attention, Linc released the door and approached.
“Twelve o’clock.” Sam nodded forward.
He followed her gaze to a trashcan at the end of the sidewalk, where a middle-aged man stood with a red duffle bag on his shoulder. One look at the overweight man, wearing bifocals that made his blue eyes look three times bigger than they were, and Linc knew they’d found their guy.
Without a word, Linc began toward Gregory Richardson, making sure to use a calm pace that wouldn’t startle him.
Sam was right next to him. “And we thought we’d be here for hours.”
Linc frowned as he watched a fidgety Gregory swiftly surveying his surroundings. Oblivious to Sam and Linc, Gregory lifted the lid of the trashcan a second later, scanned his surroundings once more, and then dropped the duffle bag inside.
Linc’s eyebrows shot up.
“Well, nothing suspicious about that,” Sam said.
Linc lifted his badge as they approached. “Gregory Richardson.”
Gregory froze in the midst of putting the lid back on the trashcan, his blue eyes flying over his shoulder and doubling in size behind his bifocals as he caught sight of Linc and Sam. His cartoonish eyes fell to the gold badge gleaming in Linc’s hand, and for a moment, shuffling his feet, eyes darting across the lot, he seemed to contemplate runn
ing.
“You can’t be here.” Gregory’s high-pitched voice was just as distinctive as his explosively big eyes. “You can’t be here! They’ll think I called you. They’ll kill her.”
Linc and Sam blinked slowly.
When Sam went to speak, Gregory jumped in. “I don’t care about the money. I don’t care about having them arrested. I don’t care. I just want her back—you have to go!”
Linc planted his feet when Gregory reached out and shoved him, but he didn’t get angry. From the fat tears filling Gregory’s eyes, the tremble to his thin lips, and the string of saliva dripping from them as he fought hysterical sobs, Linc could see that this situation had layers he hadn’t yet realized.
Sam showed Gregory the photo of Kathy Richardson clutched in her hand, taken at the crime scene the night of her death.
Gregory’s blubbery eyes fell to the picture, and with one look, his face collapsed, and his knees gave out from under him.
Linc took Gregory’s arm to stop him from crumbling onto the sidewalk, but down Gregory went, sobbing out the whole way. “No! Oh, Jesus! I did everything they asked! I did everything they asked!” A sob ripped up Gregory’s throat as he hit his knees, bent at the waist, a violent heave shooting up his trembling body.
As Linc tried to bring Gregory back up to his feet, Sam approached the trashcan and lifted the lid, seizing the red duffle bag inside. After unzipping it and getting a look inside, her face fell. Her eyes shot up to Linc, and with a shake of her head, she tilted the bag so he could see what was inside.
Linc cursed under his breath. Several dozen wads of hundred dollar bills rolled up in rubber bands filled the bag to the hilt. With one look, Linc guessed it was at least half a million dollars.
He released his hold on Gregory, allowing him to melt into a sobbing heap on the sidewalk. Several passersby slowed their pace to look over, curious what all the fuss was about, as Linc pulled out his cell phone to call this in to their Lieutenant.
13
Later that evening, Dante’s bar was bustling as usual. Rap music pounded the walls, and also Veda’s skull since she’d come straight to the bar from the hospital. She’d trained her body to get used to working doubles at the hospital, but something about working doubles at the hospital and Dante’s was ten times more exhausting.
She was sure it would kill her if not for Jake’s bright blue eyes, shining at her from the other side of the bar. Sauntering over to him, black booty shorts and black apron swinging at she moved, she spread her arms wide in her baby t-shirt before leaning on the edge of the bar.
Jake’s eyes fell to her breasts as she bent forward, proving that even a gay man was defenseless to a bosom propped up by a Victoria’s Secret Miracle Bra. And what a miracle it was. Guaranteed to triple her tips without even trying.
“Hey, handsome,” she purred, drinking in Jake’s unimpressed eyes, even as he was unable to rip them from her tits. “You got the stuff?”
“Have I got the stuff?” He lifted an eyebrow as he reclaimed her gaze, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a vial of sodium thiopental. “Calm down, Vandyke. This isn’t a back alley in Westside Story.”
They pretended to shake hands over the bar to transfer the vial. An exchange that seemed slick to them but was surely embarrassingly obvious to anyone who happened to throw them a passing glance.
“I really think you should stop,” Jake said, in a singsong voice as Veda pocketed the vial.
“Like I said, tonight’s the night.” She nodded over Jake’s shoulder to Matthew Russo, who was having after work drinks with a few friends in a booth at the back of the bar. “Dante’s already agreed to let me off early—whenever I’m ready. As soon as Russo gets up to leave, I’ll be right on his heels—” A customer on the other side of the bar called for her, cutting her off, and Veda snapped her head in their direction. “In a minute!” she barked before rolling her eyes and looking back at Jake. “I swear to God, these customers…”
“Are expecting you to do your damn job? The audacity!”
“Seriously!” Veda beamed, feigning obliviousness to his sarcasm. They shared a smirk before she began making his favorite drink, finishing in under a minute before setting the martini glass down in front of him.
Jake took a sip of his drink—its fruity flavor evoking a little shimmy of his shoulders—all while watching her flirtatiously over the rim. “I know you’re not going after number seven tonight.”
“Oh, no? I’ve got a sedative in my pocket that says different.”
Jake calmly set down his martini glass and then went into his jacket pocket. He produced an envelope, held it up, and then tossed it across the bar.
Once it landed, Veda nudged the flap of the envelope—which was so full it was already halfway open—got one peek at what was inside, and gave Jake a skeptical look.
“You sure this isn’t a back alley in Westside Story?” she asked. “Because a wad of hundreds in an envelope feels awfully theatrical.”
Jake leaned into the bar, lowering his voice. “It’s from Gage.”
Just like that, Veda’s heart melted. Her face fell. She lost her voice, shuffling her feet. She planted a hand on her hip, unable to find words.
“And judging by your stupefied expression,” Jake said. “You miss him just as badly as he’s missing you. My God, it hasn’t even been a week. You guys are pitiful. Honestly.”
“I don’t understand,” Veda said, swallowing thickly.
Jake sighed. “Before he left for the cruise, he gave me the money. Told me to give it to you if and when he gave me the word. Well, this morning, he gave me the word. Texted me from an unknown number that he needs to see you… now.”
“Anyone could’ve texted you.”
“Not with the secret code word he and I previously agreed on. He wants you to use the cash to buy a plane ticket to Kauai. You’ll have to connect through Maui. Says he’ll take care of everything from there.”
Every bone in Veda’s body screamed yes. Yes, go and see your boyfriend, whom you miss dearly. Yes, go and take advantage of the dick you’ve been fantasizing about since the moment he left. Yes, give in to the flutter assaulting your stomach at the very thought of alone time with him in Hawaii.
Yes, yes, yes!
“No.” Veda gazed longingly at the envelope, heart racing, knees weak. “He said it would be too risky for us to have any contact.”
“I guess he no longer gives a fuck, bub.”
Veda’s fingers itched to snatch up that envelope. So instead, she tapped them on the bar while nibbling her bottom lip.
Jake took another slow sip of his martini, watching her intently.
She gave him a sideways look. “Are you sure you’re not just trying to sway me away from Matthew Russo?”
“If you’re so easily swayed, maybe you don’t want Russo as badly as you think you do?”
Veda went to spew a rebuttal, but came up short, unable to argue his point. Then, her shoulders collapsed. “Damn it…” She looked off toward Matthew Russo. “Damn it.”
“Don’t fight it,” Jake purred, his tone far too serene to be trusted. “You know you want to see him just as badly as he does you. Just take your little chocolate butt home and pack a bag. You’ve got the next few days off from the hospital and Dante’s. How often does that happen? How often will it ever happen again? Why not spend it in a beautiful place, with a beautiful man?”
She cursed under her breath. Not because Jake’s sudden commitment to derailing her revenge scheme was becoming tiresome. Not because taking that money and hopping on a plane would mean Matthew Russo walked away with his balls once more. Not even because her body was nowhere near bikini ready to be flaunted on an island in Hawaii.
No, Veda cursed under her breath because a cold hard truth had just hit her like a thousand bricks.
Gage.
She wanted Gage.
She wanted Gage more than she wanted revenge. She wanted him more than she wanted Matthew Russo’s blood
y giggle berries in her hand. She wanted him more than she wanted to finish monsters number six through ten.
She wanted his arms around her. His kiss brushing her lips. His voice warming her ear. His hardness slipping inside her.
She wanted him more. And as she found herself reaching out and picking up the envelope, she couldn’t, for the life of her, figure out when. When had Gage not only become the love of her life, but also her best friend?
She didn’t know when it had happened.
She just knew it had.
And as she slid the envelope into her back pocket—sharing a look with Jake—all she could think about was getting on an airplane as quickly as possible. Getting to Kauai as quickly as possible.
Getting to Gage.
As quickly as possible.
——
On the other side of town, in an interrogation office at the police precinct, Linc slid two photos across the wooden desk.
Gregory Richardson—who hadn’t stopped weeping since they’d picked him up at Navajo Casino—had been very cooperative. So they’d opted to question him in one of the precinct’s nicer offices, and not in the cold, windowless room they used to cross-examine the dirtier suspects. Unlike the interrogation rooms, the office was flanked with windows that welcomed in the evening sky and had softwood finishes all around.
Linc and Sam sat on one side of the desk, Gregory and his lawyer on the other. His lawyer hadn’t said much, nor had Gregory looked to him for the answer to a single question they’d asked him, proving to Linc that Gregory probably wouldn’t be their prime suspect in Kathy’s murder.
Gregory’s nose was Rudolph red, glasses foggy from tears, and lips quivering. He wiped his nose with a tissue as he took in the photos Linc had just slid across to him.
“That’s my Kathy,” Gregory blubbered, pointing to the photos with trembling fingers. “That’s her bird tattoo, and her birthmark that’s shaped like a Cheerio.” He took a moment, fighting not to fall apart, and then pointed to another mark on her body in the crime scene photos. “And the scar on her elbow from when she fell off her bike in first grade.”
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