by Gerri Hill
“But a cute kid.” Casey stopped as the doors closed behind them, feeling every eye in the place on them. Of course, there were only four other people inside, so it was most likely true.
“You sure this is an airport?” Tori murmured.
Undeterred, Casey nudged her arm. “Come on.” She smiled broadly at the woman behind the counter. “How’s it going?”
“Wonderful. Yours was the last flight tonight.” She waved across the room to one of the crew leaving. “See you tomorrow, Hank.”
“Great. Last flight.” Casey winked at Tori. “Told you it was the airport.”
“Unlike those big-city places, we actually shut down at night. Which is what I’m about to do.”
“Wonderful. Well, we won’t keep you.” Casey tapped the counter. “We’re from out of town. I’ve arranged for a rental car. Do you know where we pick those up?”
“Rental car? The only place that rents cars is the Ford dealership in town. Is that what you mean?”
Casey sighed. “Not sure. The arrangements were made for me.” She opened her phone, her thumb moving quickly as she searched through her numbers, finally finding it.
“They open up at seven,” the woman told Tori.
“That’s lovely,” Tori said dryly. She leaned closer. “Maybe we should call the local police or sheriff,” she suggested.
Casey glanced up, listening to their exchange.
The woman’s eyes widened. “What for?”
“I’m Detective Hunter and the whiz kid here is Detective O’Connor, from Dallas. And if we don’t have a rental car, I’m going to hope that your local police department will help us out.” She drummed her fingers impatiently on the counter. “So, you want to call them or what?”
“You’re the police?”
“Detectives,” Tori corrected.
“I wasn’t expecting… women,” she said with a slight hint of distaste.
Just then, Casey’s contact picked up and she confirmed the details of the car rental. “Supposed to have a car here waiting.” She looked closer at the woman’s nametag. “Dorothy. Supposed to have a car here.”
“Yes. As I was telling her, I was expecting men.” She bent down and came back up with a set of keys. “They delivered a car a couple of hours ago. It’s an SUV, what with the weather and all.” She handed the keys to Casey. “Sorry about that.”
“Not a problem,” Casey said as she pocketed the keys. “We’ve got reservations. Holiday Inn?”
“Yes, it’s down on the interstate. Head back toward town, you can’t miss it.”
“They got a bar there? A restaurant?”
Dorothy glanced at her watch. “At this hour?”
Tori looked at Casey and leaned closer. “I hate you,” she whispered.
“Nothing like sitting in a hotel bar in Midland, Texas, on a Friday night,” Casey said as she held up her drink. “Cheers.”
Tori flicked her glance to the three other patrons in the bar, all sitting on barstools watching a late basketball game on ESPN. She nodded as she tipped her own drink in Casey’s direction. “I’m still trying to figure out how you talked me into this trip to begin with. I mean, one minute, I’m sitting at home enjoying beer and pizza for dinner and the next, I’m sitting in a Holiday Inn bar in the middle of nowhere.”
Casey leaned closer. “Aren’t you just dying to talk to him?”
Ah, Father Tim. Tori took a sip of her margarita. “I see you’re still rather proud of yourself.”
“The elusive name of the lover. Yeah.” Casey took a large swallow from her drink. “Pretty good,” she said. “Not a Rios Rita, but pretty good.”
“A margarita expert? I figured you for beer.”
“Beer’s for fishing.” Casey grinned. “And pizza.” She spun the paper coaster around on the table. “Tell me about Sam,” she said unexpectedly.
“What about her?”
“What’s she like? Tell me about you two.”
Tori smiled as she thought of Sam. “I miss her.”
“Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me. So, what’s she like?”
“She’s… she’s gentle. She’s soft where I’m hard. She’s compassionate. People like her.” Tori shrugged. It was true. “Which is why we worked well together. People don’t generally like me.”
“You know, I asked around about you. I heard horror stories.” Casey laughed. “But I like you. What does that say about me?”
“I don’t normally open up to people,” Tori admitted, oddly not uncomfortable with the conversation. “I don’t really have friends.”
Casey raised her eyebrows. “Just Sam?”
“We like being together. And Sikes, well, he’s become a pal. He likes to fish so he comes out to the boat some.” She nodded at Casey. “I’m going to guess you’ve got lots of friends.”
Casey smiled sadly. “Lots of friends, yeah. Lots of acquaintances.” She sipped her margarita. “Just not that one person, you know.”
“Yeah, I know. There was never anybody for me. Sam came into my life and didn’t give me a chance to run.”
“You tried?”
“Oh, yeah. I was scared to death.” She met Casey’s eyes. “Still am.”
“I miss not having somebody at home. After a bad day, I miss not having someone to talk to.”
“If you miss it, then you must have had it.”
“Oh, a few years ago I was with someone. I thought maybe she could be the one.” Casey shook her head. “Didn’t work out. She couldn’t understand the job. She wanted me to quit, to do something normal,” she said with a laugh.
“Sam’s boyfriend was the same.”
Casey’s eyes widened. “Boyfriend?”
Tori nodded. “Robert. Defense attorney.”
“You dog. She was seeing a man when you met?”
“Yeah. But it’s not like you think. We didn’t start an affair or anything. She broke up with him. She knew he wasn’t the one. With us, it just kinda happened. We had been dancing around it.” Tori smiled. “Like I said, I didn’t stand a chance.”
“You ladies want another round?” the bartender called from across the bar.
“Absolutely.” Casey held up her glass. “But at your age, you better not overdo it, Hunter. We’ve got a two-hour drive in the morning.”
“I think I can keep up with your scrawny ass, O’Connor.”
Casey laughed. “Yeah, I like you, Hunter. Good to see you’ve still got a sense of humor.”
“What do you mean?”
“This job.” Casey spun the coaster round and round on the table. “How do you do it? Death all the time.”
Tori looked up at the TV, watching without interest, wondering at her answer. “Murder—death—it hit close to home when I was younger,” she said quietly. It was still hard to talk about. Even with Sam, she didn’t talk about it. She glanced over at Casey. “It was never solved. No one was ever brought to justice. I do it for them.”
Casey frowned. “Who?”
Tori wasn’t going to go there tonight. “I’ll tell you about it as soon as you tell me about this brother you don’t talk to.”
Casey looked away. “It’s nothing big, Hunter. It’s nothing pretty, you know.”
“Maybe you’ll tell me someday. And maybe I’ll tell you.” She thanked the bartender who’d brought their fresh drinks. “But there is a lot of death, yeah. It’s hard sometimes to remember there’s more to life than this job.”
“I guess so. Your victims are always dead.”
“But how do you deal with the sexual assault—rape—all the time?”
Casey tipped her glass toward Tori. “You mean as opposed to murder? At least mine are alive. But it’s the kids that are the worst. Man, I’ve seen some shit, Hunter. Some stuff you wouldn’t believe.” She met Tori’s eyes. “Nightmare material. But my shrink says it’s perfectly normal to have nightmares about it.”
Surprised, Tori raised her eyebrows. “You see a shrink?”
“Well, she pr
efers to be called therapist, but yeah, at least once a month, whenever I need to talk. Don’t you?”
“Oh, hell, no,” Tori said. “It’s just bullshit. I don’t want someone psychoanalyzing me and poking around in my brain.”
Casey laughed. “No, I don’t suppose you do, Hunter. But I took a lot of classes in college. In fact, I thought I wanted to be a therapist myself. So I don’t mind her poking around my brain.”
They were quiet for a moment, both twisting their glasses on the bar. Finally, Tori tapped the table lightly, waiting until Casey looked at her. “So, you have nightmares?” she asked quietly.
“Yeah. Sometimes, yeah.”
Tori thought about that for a moment, remembering her own nightmares. “What does she say about that?”
“She says when I stop having dreams about it all, that’s when I’ll know I’ve stopped caring.”
Tori nodded again, but didn’t say anything.
“You dream?” Casey asked, staring at her. “Nightmares?”
Tori nodded again. “Sometimes.”
Casey reached out and quickly squeezed Tori’s hand. “Good. I’d hate to think you didn’t care anymore.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“You’re kinda quiet this morning, Hunter.”
At the sound of Casey’s voice, Tori opened her eyes briefly. “I wonder why,” she murmured. The tiny headache from earlier had turned into a throbbing monster.
Casey laughed. “That last margarita do you in?”
“Let me just say again, this trip better be worth it.”
“Look at it this way, we’ve had some quality time together, not to mention this beautiful scenery we’re getting this morning.”
Tori looked out the window at the rocky, treeless landscape that sped by as Casey drove them south to Balmorhea. “Right. Just beautiful, O’Connor.” She closed her eyes again. “Wake me when we’re there.”
“You don’t want to talk? Visit?”
“No.”
“You want to talk about fishing?”
“No.”
“And you’re sure you don’t want me to tell you about my afternoon with Marissa?”
“Shut up before I shoot you,” Tori murmured.
“Hey, Hunter, wake up.”
Tori rolled her head toward Casey. She couldn’t quite bear to open her eyes. “What?”
“We’re here.” Casey paused. “I think.”
Tori cracked her eyes open and peered out the window. “You think?”
“It’s not exactly a booming metropolis.” Casey slowed at a blinking light before proceeding through the intersection. “In fact, it’s smaller than I imagined.”
Tori sat up and stretched, feeling a little better after her nap. She reached down for the bottle of water, drinking nearly half of it in one swallow.
“Yeah, tequila makes you thirsty.”
Tori narrowed her eyes. “Shut up.”
Casey laughed, pointing down a side street. “Downtown? Wow, it looks kinda like an Old West town.”
She turned, driving them down the wide street, the area bustling with activity. Ranchers in town for the day, Tori thought. The old brick and stone buildings—some two stories, others with façades—still housed businesses, and most seemed to be doing a booming business on this cold Saturday morning.
“I guess Saturday is the day everyone comes into town for shopping,” Casey commented. “What do you think people do for a living out here?”
“Ranching, most likely. Old homesteads have probably been in the family for generations.”
“Yeah, but is there any grass or anything? It looks desolate.”
“It’s winter, O’Connor.”
They passed through the two blocks of the old downtown area, coming upon what appeared to be a school. Beyond that, Tori spotted the telltale signs of a Catholic church. The ancient adobe building stood tall at the corner of town, and a massive wooden cross erected right by the road shadowed a small sign, Our Lady of Guadalupe Catholic Church.
“This is it,” Casey said unnecessarily.
“It looks deserted.”
Casey drove past the church, no doubt looking for an office or something. There were three buildings behind the church but all appeared to be closed and unoccupied. “Surely there’s someone around. Churches don’t close, do they?”
Seeing a narrow entry, Tori pointed. “Go through here.”
“It looks like a private drive.”
“Yeah. The rectory is probably back here.”
“Good, Hunter. There’s a car.” Casey slowed, pulling to a stop beside it, its paint chipped and faded.
“That thing has seen better days.”
“I’ll say.”
They both got out, their breath frosting around them as they headed to the door. The rectory was a modest building, painted white at one time. But it, like the car, was showing signs of wear and neglect. Tori stood by, hands shoved deep in the pockets of her jacket, while Casey went up the wooden steps and knocked on the door.
“So he doesn’t know we’re coming, right?” Tori said.
“No.”
“And what are your plans if he’s not here?”
“Where do you think he’d be, Hunter? Vacation?”
“Hell, I don’t know. I just know it’s cold, I have a headache, and you’ve dragged me out to the middle of nowhere to interview a man who had an affair with a dead priest on a case that’s now closed,” she stated, her voice rising with each word.
“Damn, you’re cranky this morning.”
Tori narrowed her eyes. “Knock again.”
But before Casey could pound on the door, it opened.
“Good morning.”
Casey and Tori exchanged glances as an elderly man greeted them.
Casey said, “Father Tim?”
He smiled. “No, no. He’s at the church this morning. I’m Father Wayne. May I be of assistance?”
Casey shook her head. “Actually, we just wanted to have a word with Father Tim. Is it possible for us to just go on over?”
“Certainly. He’s hearing confessions this morning.” He raised his eyebrows. “Are you in need?”
“Not me, no.” She gestured at Tori. “But my friend here is in dire need.”
Embarrassed, Tori scowled. “Can we go now?”
“Thank you, Father Wayne. We’ll just head on over to the church.” Casey nodded, taking Tori by the arm and chuckling as they walked away.
“I would think after the afternoon you spent with Marissa, you’d be the one in need,” Tori said as she jerked her arm away.
“You ever been to confession, Hunter?”
“I’m not Catholic. You been?”
“Yeah. When I was a kid.”
“It never occurred to me you were Catholic.” But with a name like O’Connor, she shouldn’t be surprised.
“No, I’m not. Well, not anymore,” she said. “Kinda goes along with… you know, that story about my brother.”
They paused at the door to the church, both looking at it, then looking at each other.
“So, what, we just go on in?” Tori asked quietly, uncertain as to protocol.
Casey shrugged. “I guess.”
“Want to tell me about your brother?”
“No.”
Still shivering from the cold, Tori took her hands out of her pockets. “Want me to open the door?”
Casey laughed. “We’re a pair, huh?”
Tori laughed too. “Yeah. It’s just a building, right?”
“I suppose.”
“So, you want me to open the door?”
“I guess one of us should.”
Just then the door swung open and a young priest stood there, his own jacket collar standing up to guard against the wind. “Oh, you startled me,” he said. “You’re here for confession, I assume.” He glanced at his watch. “I stop hearing confessions at ten. We have an early Mass today at noon. For the funeral, you know.”
“Actually, we’re no
t here for confession,” Tori said. She pulled out her badge and held it up. “I’m Detective Hunter. This is Detective O’Connor. We’re from Dallas.”
His eyes widened and he looked away. “I see. I suppose you’re here to talk about Michael.”
“Yes. Is there someplace we can talk?” Casey asked.
“I share the rectory with Father Wayne. There’ll be no privacy there.” He pointed back to the church. “We can go inside.”
Tori took a step back. “In the church?”
“Yes. The heat is on. It’s warm inside.”
“Is there no place else?” Casey asked.
He leaned closer. “I assure you, you’ll be perfectly safe inside,” he said quietly. “After all, I’ve survived it.”
Casey laughed. “Yeah. I guess.” She looked at Tori. “Okay?”
Tori let out a deep breath, then nodded. Sam would think she was being silly. In fact, she knew she was. She was an adult, not a child. But those long-ago memories, those few terrifying minutes at the church when the caskets were being closed—locking her family away forever—leaving her alone, those memories still haunted her.
Casey nudged her when Father Tim held the door open for them. “You okay?” she whispered.
Tori took another deep breath, looking into the concerned eyes of her new friend. Genuine concern, she noted. So she nodded and gave a half-smile. “Childhood memories.”
“I completely understand.”
Father Tim led them inside, and Tori walked shoulder-to-shoulder with Casey, glancing around the church quickly.
“Here,” he said, pointing to the last row of pews. “We can sit back here.”
“It’s kinda dark in here,” Tori murmured.
“Yes. We rely on the windows for most of our light. We’re hoping the sun will break through by noon.”
“What do you do at night?”
“We light the candles,” he said, pointing to the candle sconces that adorned each of the large pillars lining the church.
Tori cleared her throat. “Well, first of all, let me say how sorry I am about Father Michael.”
Father Tim nodded sadly. “I only found out three days ago. I still can’t believe it.” He shook his head. “They haven’t really told me anything, just that he was found dead a few days after I left.” He sighed. “You see, I’m being punished. I’m not really allowed contact with the outside. No TV, no phone, no papers.”