by Camel Press
“You hustled pool?”
Quinn sat up between their seats. “She was the best. You wouldn’t believe how many belligerent drunks would try to take this skinny little girl’s allowance.”
A smile crept across her face, despite her reluctance to take this drive down memory lane. Quinn caught it and pointed at her.
“See? You loved it. Just say the word and we can do it again. Might be a good way to make some extra cash for your wedding.”
“Oh I don’t—we aren’t ….” Cat struggled and finally just shook her head from side to side.
Benji pulled into the apartment parking lot. “We’re not sure there’s going to be a wedding yet.”
“Oh, Catty. Don’t tell me courthouse vows? That would kill Grams.”
Cat stomped her foot on the floorboard. “Drop it.”
“Is this because Dad can’t give you away? Because I’ll walk you down the aisle if you want, or maybe he’d qualify for a temporary release.”
Cat was tapping her foot against the floor of the car with so much force she thought it might burst through, but she remained silent.
“Better yet, you could get married in the prison chapel. Your colors could be orange and black so that his jumpsuit would fit right in.”
Finally, Benji turned into their parking stall. Cat shot out, slamming the Focus’s door behind her.
The tears came quickly, and she wiped away black streaks of dissolving mascara with the back of her hand. She quickened her pace, zipping up her jacket to keep out the chilly October air.
Another car door slammed and she recognized the hurried footsteps as belonging to Benji. As he sidled up to her, she sniffed and hoped she had managed to wipe away the evidence. “I’m fine, really. I momentarily forgot that Quinn’s just a jerk. Still.”
“He’s a brother. If sitcoms have taught me anything, that’s pretty, uh … par for the course.” He gave her a playful nudge. “Sports metaphor ….”
She smiled and sniffed again. “Correctly used and everything.”
“Don’t give him another thought. You’ve got the playoffs coming up and the last thing you need to worry about is our houseguest.”
“Don’t call him that. Houseguest makes it sound like he’s a welcome addition to our home.” She sighed and looked back to make sure Quinn was out of earshot. He was leaning against Benji’s car, smoking a cigarette and tilting his head back to exhale the long puffs of smoke.
“We’ve got to get rid of him.”
“What do you want to do with him? He needs a place to stay.”
She smiled wryly. “There’s a motel down by the docks that has reasonable hourly rates. I wonder what they’d charge to keep him for the next couple weeks?”
“Actually, I was thinking more like why don’t you and I do that?” Upon seeing the horror on her face, he laughed. “Not the no-tell motel! I mean we should get away for a night. There’s a place that does weddings up by the Falls. I thought we could check it out tomorrow night.”
“Oh. Uh … okay, I guess.”
“Don’t sound so excited.”
“No, I’m excited. Niagara Falls. It sounds nice.” She leaned over and put her head on his shoulder as they approached the stairway. “Especially the part about getting away from Quinn for a night.”
“Bam, sucka!”
“Oh!”
“Sorry, bitch. Give this hand a hand and all your money while you’re at it.”
“I knew I should’ve folded.”
Cat finally opened her eyes at the sound of the voices blaring from the other side of the bedroom door. She sighed as the confusion cleared in her groggy mind.
Quinn.
“You awake?” Benji turned and wrapped an arm over her stomach.
She groaned and snuggled into him. “Unfortunately.”
“This has been going on for the last hour but it started getting rowdy about ten minutes ago.”
“He’s been here less than twenty-four hours. How has he already made poker buddies?”
“Who wants another beer?” a male voice said.
“I gotta hit the can," replied another.
The phone rang before she could come up with any theories. Benji reached over to his nightstand and hooked his hand under the receiver, pulling it over to his pillow.
“Hello? Yeah. Yeah. I know, Mr. Finley, I’m very sorry.”
Cat sighed and threw the covers off. She knew this was the only warning they’d get. Every tenant in the building had an Old Man Finley story. The apartment next to his belonged to a single mom who told Cat that the grouch had actually complained last Christmas morning that her two boys were being too noisy while unwrapping presents.
Her feet hit the cold hardwood and stormed out of the bedroom, down the hallway and into the living room. She was engulfed by a miasma of cigar smoke.
“Cat!”
“McDaniel!”
“Hey, reporter girl. You live here, too?”
She attempted to wave the smoke out of the air. The faces that greeted her weren’t strangers after all, but the same faces she saw in the clubhouse one hundred and sixty two times a year.
“This is my place. That is, it belongs to my boyfr—, um, fiancé and me.” She looked around her apartment. They’d scooted the loveseat over to the small dining table and had the four chairs wedged around it. Bottles of Leinenkugel’s Oktoberfest surrounded an open pizza box. They were using tea saucers as ashtrays. “I think.”
Adam Alvarez looked her up and down with his leering gray eyes. “Nice outfit.”
“Jeez, Sis, put some clothes on.” Quinn smacked Adam’s arm. “I’ve got company over.”
Cat looked down at her revealing nightie and crossed her arms over her chest. She’d forgotten she was wearing the Valentine’s Day gift. “That phone call was our downstairs neighbor. You’re making too much noise.” She spotted Quinn’s leather jacket on the arm of the couch and slipped it over the satin negligee.
Quinn’s green eyes popped out innocently over a pair of sunglasses hanging on his nose. “Nah, it’s probably just this tile floor; it amplifies every little sound.”
Cat narrowed her eyes. “Nah, it’s the fact that it’s one in the morning.”
“Let me deal ya in. We could use another hand.” Quinn patted the empty chair on the other side of him.
Cat began to corral the empty bottles. “I know that no one here has to work tomorrow, but I do.”
“It’s an off day.” Adam Alvarez leaned back in her dining chair, his two hundred pounds testing the strength of its wooden legs.
“For you. I still have to go in, Adam.”
Quinn raised his hand. “Okay, okay. We’ll keep it down. The guys here just get so excited when they’re giving me their money.”
The guys began to chortle at that and the trash talk started up again, each man louder than the next.
“That’s what your mom said to me last night!”
“You wish.”
“She said that, too!”
“Shh!” She started to lean over the table and then remembered the low-cut nightie peeking out from under the jacket. She cleared her throat and stood back up. “Do I have to remind you guys that the tabloids love to hear about players at non-sanctioned poker games?”
They rolled their eyes and begrudgingly nodded.
“So let’s keep it down so the cops don’t come, okay?”
Quinn began to shuffle the deck. “You heard the lady. Name of the game is Chicago Low by Night.”
On her way back down the hallway, the bathroom door swung open.
“Cat!”
“Spencer?” There was no disputing the sight of her best friend. He was still wearing his dress pants and sport coat from earlier. The addition of a green eyeshade over his shaved head made it clear that he was in the game. “You’re playing poker with these guys?”
He whipped the visor off and combed through his nonexistent hair. “They invited me and you asked me to keep an eye on Quinn s
o I thought—”
“Spencer, jeez. I didn’t mean all this.”
“I know you didn’t, but I thought maybe I could help with crowd control.”
Loud laughter emanated from the dining room.
Spencer frowned. “I failed, by the way.”
“No kidding.” Cat saw his eyes fall to the open jacket and she cinched it tight. “It’s not your fault.”
“Do you want me to go? I feel weird being in your house and not hanging out with you.”
“Stay or go, just don’t let Quinn take too much of your money.”
“Too late for that.”
She bit her lip. “Sorry. Hot dogs on me for game one?”
“Deal.”
She patted him on the shoulder as she wiggled past him to go back to the bedroom.
Chapter 5
She didn’t know how long she’d been asleep when the scream tore through the dark bedroom and smacked her awake. Benji’s eyes snapped open, too. Simultaneously, they threw the comforter off and shot out to the hallway, hurrying into the living room. The remnants of the poker night were still visible, cards and beer bottles scattered over the table. The chairs were empty and her eyes darted to the balcony. The sliding glass door was wide open and a cold breeze blew through the room. The players all gathered near the edge.
“Quinn?”
Cat sprinted to the balcony. She breathed a momentary sigh of relief when she saw her brother in the corner, disguised by Benji’s spiraled boxwood topiary.
The telephone rang.
“That’s got to be Finley again,” Benji said, turning around to answer it.
Cat hopped out to the balcony, planting her feet on the coarse entry rug. It was still cold, but beat the bitter chill of the concrete. “What’s going on?”
Joel turned around and shoved past her, running into the kitchen. She heard him wretch and hoped he had made it to the sink.
Quinn, Damien Staats and Adam Alvarez were all peering over the balcony. Cat was filled with dread as she approached the ledge. “Guys?”
Where’s everybody else at?
Slowly, she began to recall the guests from earlier.
Quinn’s here.
So’s Damien Staats.
So’s Adam Alvarez.
Joel Faulk’s in the kitchen.
Her stomach dropped.
“Oh my God, where’s Spencer?”
No one answered her. She cringed as she finally made it to the edge and followed their gazes to the ground.
Damien bounced on his heels and repeatedly shook his head. “Shit man, shit.”
A twisted body lay on the grass two stories down. It wasn’t Spencer. Her friend was short and this figure spanned two sidewalk lengths. She recognized his shaggy, dirty blond hair immediately.
Ryan Brokaw.
Now she remembered him from earlier. The pitcher had sat on the loveseat, next to Adam. He’d made the “your mama” joke.
“Oh my God! Ryan? Ryan!”
He didn’t move.
Benji rushed to the balcony and looked over her shoulder. He gasped.
She pulled her hands away from her mouth. “We have to call nine-one-one.”
Benji nodded and ran to the phone.
She whirled around to the guys. “What the hell happened?”
Damien’s hands flew in the air defensively. “He … he ….”
Adam placed his hand on Damien’s shoulder. “He fell.”
“Fell? Quinn?”
Quinn nodded. “We were just having a smoke out here, shooting the shit and goofing around. Ryan leaned back and just … fell.”
Cat surveyed the railing. It was a concrete ledge but she pushed against it just to make sure it was sturdy. It was solid. “I don’t understand.”
Quinn shook his head. “Me, either. It happened so fast. He was leaning like this.” Quinn demonstrated by resting his hips on the edge. “He lost his footing and just tumbled back.”
Cat leaned over the side. “Ryan, can you hear me?”
His body still didn’t move. She pushed past Adam and ran out of the apartment. Her hand glided down the railing as she shot down the three flights of stairs. She sprinted across the grass. The blades felt like porcupine quills under her bare feet and the ground was cold and wet with frost. She reached his body and looked up at her lighted balcony. Quinn and the players were no longer there but she could see Benji pacing back and forth in the living room, the cordless phone pressed against his ear. She tore her eyes back to Ryan’s contorted body.
“Ryan?”
His arm was twisted behind his body like a cruller and his shoulder popped out like an extra glob of icing. “Ryan, it’s Cat McDaniel.”
She got on her hands and knees to inspect his face. He was still breathing. She waved her hand in front of his face, squinting to see any reaction under the street lamps. She wished his blue-green eyes would pop open, even if only for a second.
“Just hang on, Ace. The ambulance is on its way.” She draped Quinn’s jacket over his body for warmth.
She sat up and rocked back and forth, wrapping her bare arms around her knees, trying to warm herself in the chilly night.
Behind her, the building door blasted open, and Quinn, Damien and Adam ran to her side.
“Don’t move him.” Adam knelt beside her and examined Ryan the same way she had. “If he’s got a spinal cord injury, you could paralyze him.”
“I know that. I haven’t touched him. All I did was cover him with the jacket.”
Quinn squatted down next to her.
She looked around. “Where’s Benji? He didn’t come out with you?”
“Joel’s totally freaking out. He’s making a pot of coffee for him.”
She nodded and looked up to the apartment, but she couldn’t see anyone. Thoughts of how much this fiasco was going to screw her crept into her mind and selfishly trumped her concern for Ryan. He was the Soldiers’ best pitcher and here he was, on her lawn, unconscious. The media was going to have so many questions …. She knew this because in any other situation, so would she. So would Spencer.
Spencer.
“Where’s Spencer?”
“Who?”
“Spencer Kekuia. My friend? I know he was here, Quinn, I spoke to him before.”
“Oh, the Hawaiian-looking dude? He left awhile ago.”
Cat still didn’t know how long she’d been asleep since the first disruption. Before she could ask, police sirens sounded and down the street she saw the red and blue flashes. Adam and Damien waved frantically at the police car.
Quinn rose and helped her to her feet. “For your friend’s sake, if the cops ask, it was just us here all night.”
“What? Why?”
“Trust me, Cat. If there’s one thing I know, it’s police harassment. You don’t want to bring that down on your pal.”
The ambulance was right behind the first squad car. The paramedics rushed up to the scene and Cat stepped back, watching them load Ryan on the gurney. Quinn grabbed his leather jacket from off Ryan’s body and helped her put it on.
“We should get you upstairs. It’s forty degrees out here and you’re wearing lingerie. You’ll give the EMTs a heart attack and they won’t be able to help your pitcher.”
She tore her eyes from the scene as they secured Ryan inside the ambulance. He was still unconscious as they slammed the back doors shut.
A light-skinned black man—slender and sharp in a tan sports coat and well-fitted jeans—intercepted them before they got to the door and flashed a police badge at her. “I’m Detective Kahn, BPD. Ma’am, it was your apartment Mr. Brokaw fell from, correct?”
Quinn scowled down at the man as if he’d been expecting this. Detective Kahn was still a respectable six feet tall, with excellent posture. He didn’t look like a police officer. More like an up-and-coming young executive on casual day. “Uh, yes.”
Uniformed officers passed them and hurried up the stairs. Before the exterior door could close, the detect
ive grabbed the handle and gestured for them to enter. He stopped inside the foyer.
“Do you have any issues with my officers checking out the scene?”
“You got a warrant?” Quinn was seasoned when it came to dealing with the police.
Cat placed her hand on his arm. “Quinn, stop.” She smiled at the detective. “This is my brother. He’s a little overprotective. It’s fine if you need to look at the balcony or whatever.”
“Good.” The detective took off up the stairs. Her apartment door was wide open. She and Quinn stepped in to see police officers crawling all over the living room and out onto the balcony. Benji was sitting with one at the dining room table. Another officer came out of their bedroom.
“Hey, what are you doing in our bedroom?”
Before he could respond, Detective Kahn intercepted her.
“Ms. McDaniel, I’m going to need a statement from you.”
She looked around the messy apartment and pointed to the sofa. “Oh uh, okay. Here, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She pointed at Quinn. “This is my brother. Do you want him, too?”
“No ma’am, we like to hear each account separately. Sir, if you could just wait right there, my partner will take your statement when he gets here.”
“Whatever.”
Detective Kahn took a notepad out of his jacket pocket and pulled an ink pen off the side. “Now this is your apartment, correct?”
“Mine and my fiancé’s.” She pointed across the room at Benji, seated at the dining table. He’d put his E. Coli Happens hoodie over his flannel pajama pants, but his hair was still poking out in all directions. He was leaning back in the chair with his arms crossed over the graphic of a blob that she could only guess was an E. coli bacterium. He looked a lot more relaxed than she felt.
“Right, the teacher. And you’re the team reporter for the Soldiers?”
She nodded.
“Were you on the balcony when the incident occurred?”
“No, sir, I was not. I was sleeping in my room with my boyfriend—uh, fiancé—when we both woke up to a shout.”
“So you weren’t even part of the party?”
Cat frowned at the word. “Party” conjured up images of blaring music, dancing and keg stands. At least, Quinn’s parties.