by Vella Day
“That’s bullshit! My sister would never drive that fast.”
“Ma’am—”
“Oh, no.” Bile raced up her throat as she fumbled for the chair for support and slid down.
“What is it?” The cop took a slight step forward. This time he sounded less like a robot and more like a human who cared.
2
I...I just remembered,” Kelly said. “Stef called me back a little after eight thirty. She’d already stopped by Rayne’s house, but Rayne wasn’t feeling up to having visitors, so she left. That was the last time I spoke with her.” A giant tear slid down her cheek.
Silence hung between them like a dark, heavy cloud. The female officer knelt down and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Is there someone you can call to be with you?”
Kelly rocked back and forth, her mind unable to put meaning to the woman’s question. The officer handed her the box of tissues from the kitchen counter, and Kelly dabbed her eyes and blew her nose again. “What did you ask?”
“Is there someone to stay with you?”
She swallowed. “My sister was my best friend, and my mother...lives in California.” Her fists clenched at the agony. The room spun.
“A neighbor perhaps?”
She shook her head, grappling for an answer. Kelly blinked back the tears, forcing herself to answer the woman’s question.
Derek sat cross-legged on the floor of his darkened bedroom. Two candles flickered on the hand woven straw tray, along with his prized hawk feather and cherished wolf skin. His sister had given him some incense a few years back, but he hadn’t burned the sticks because his way of praying was different from hers.
Tonight, he lit the sticks—for Rayne.
Even after eleven hours of solitude, he hadn’t figured out squat. Damn. He wouldn’t give up—or rather he couldn’t give up. There had to be a reason for Rayne’s death—and it wasn’t because she was pregnant.
An avalanche of injustice slammed into Derek. A giant claw grabbed his insides and twisted. Rayne had wanted another child worse than anything. Now her wish would never come true.
Seinkievitz had found the tossed pregnancy test in her bathroom trashcan and implied she might have been depressed over the results. Unmarried and the sole supporter of her son could have triggered the suicide, he’d said.
Derek didn’t buy the scenario. Someone killed her.
Scented smoke curled upward, and the mesmerizing effect of the candles helped him go inward to find his soul.
“Tell me why you took Rayne,” he intoned to his spirit guides, even though he didn’t expect them to answer. They rarely spoke, but he had to try to reach them.
Derek slowed his breathing and concentrated on his surroundings. His nightstand clock ticked, and the air conditioner hummed a constant buzz. A television show rumbled in a neighbor’s apartment.
He closed his eyes and rubbed his hands over the feather and animal skin until he could feel their powers unleash. All noise fused into a static hum. His legs numbed, his shoulders relaxed, his heartbeat slowed. Then his body ceased to exist, and his mind floated above him.
Don’t try to wake the person who is pretending to sleep, said a voice deep inside his head. At least he thought his mind had conjured up those words.
A shiver pricked every nerve. He kept his eyes shut and his body still. “Who’s pretending to sleep?”
His arms turned heavy and a loud shout outside his window brought him back to his world. He waited for the low voice to return, but the guides were gone.
His eyes flew open and one candle went out. Had the air conditioner killed the flame or had the guides entered his world? His heart beat rapidly, and his hands dampened as he realized he’d successfully linked with them—unless the whole event had been his imagination gone wild.
What the hell good had contacting them done? Derek was no closer to understanding Rayne’s last moments than when he’d started the ritual.
More frustrated than ever, he blew out the other candle and stood up. Angry his rare contact with the spirits hadn’t told him shit, he flicked on the overhead light.
Fuck it. He didn’t need any Indian gods to tell him Rayne would never have taken her own life. Strong people didn’t crack, no matter what happened to them. His sister’s husband had been killed in Iraq leaving her with a nine year old, and yet she’d gone back to law school. She’d learned to take one day at a time.
He’d have to do the same. Take one day at a time, that is. Even if it killed him, he would find justice for Rayne’s death.
Hell, he’d watched men kill time and time again, and he’d managed to stay whole, believing death to be a normal process of nature, but Rayne’s dying served no purpose.
His younger sister had always been there for him. Then, in a flash, she was gone, leaving a void so deep he wasn’t sure he could climb out. But he had to, for Billy’s sake.
Billy.
Guilt grabbed him by the ass and nearly toppled him. He should have been there for his nephew; been a better uncle. He kept telling himself his job came first, but now he could see what a line of crap that had been. He should have taken more spent more time with the kid, shown him how to hunt and fish. Maybe then, his nephew wouldn’t have grown up so angry.
Once Sosa finished interrogating his nephew, Derek had asked Billy to stay with him. They needed each other, yet Billy had insisted on returning to the academy where he attended school. Derek still couldn’t believe it. The kid said his friends were there, and they’d understand how much he was hurting.
Like he couldn’t understand his pain?
Billy’s rejection hurt almost as much as Rayne’s death.
Damn it. Tomorrow, after his dad returned from hunting, he’d have to tell him his only daughter had blown her brains out.
Tomorrow a little bit more of him would die.
A loud rap on his front door disturbed his introspection. Who the hell could that be at 10p.m.?
He couldn’t handle more bad news. Derek strapped on his Glock and strode to the front of the house as the pounding continued.
“Benally, open up,” the man yelled.
“I’m coming.” What was this guy’s problem?
After checking the peephole, he opened the door, surprised to see Rayne’s boyfriend standing there. Their paths had only crossed once or twice before. “Justin?”
Justin Bladen’s tie was half undone, his shirt untucked, and it looked as if he’d run his fingers through his hair a hundred times.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me about Rayne?” Justin shouted, as he barged in uninvited. “I had to find out on the goddamn television that the woman I love is dead.” His face turned red.
At learning Rayne’s suicide made the evening news, a fresh wash of anger blasted him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have your number.”
Derek closed the door and studied the wild man, refusing to rise to the bait. Justin’s gaze bounced all over the place, clearly not able to focus on one object for more than a few seconds.
“I assumed you knew.”
“How could I have known?” Justin spit back, waving a clenched fist. A moment later, his chest deflated. “I called Rayne early this morning, but she didn’t answer. I never thought she’d kill herself. How could she have done such a thing?” The last sentence resembled more of a croak than a human voice.
“Come on. Sit down.” Derek wondered how Justin had found out where he lived. Maybe he’d looked up his name in Rayne’s address book.
Justin tugged on his tie, and then whipped it off as he swayed over to the sofa.
Without prompting, Justin began. “We spent yesterday together with your dad. Rayne was so excited. Did she tell you we were having a baby?” He sniffled and rubbed his eyes with the back of his sleeve.
“Not in person. CSU found her pregnancy test in the trash.” Derek forced down his depression and focused on Justin. Could he have killed his sister?
“Oh.”
“Did something happen
at Dad’s?” Derek tried to put the pieces together.
“I’d never met your father in all these months we’d been dating, but Rayne really wanted your father to be the first to know about the baby.” He wrapped one end of his tie around his palm, made a fist and tugged on the other end.
That didn’t surprise him. Rayne always cared what the old man thought. Derek eased back. “She was excited, huh?” Derek could almost hear her squeal as she announced the news. Deep inside, a part of him smiled.
“I’d never seen her beam like that before.”
Her cheerful image didn’t mesh with suicide. “Then why would she kill herself?” Like a flicked switch, Derek fought back his rage. Her death wasn’t fair; wasn’t right.
“I wish I knew.” He brought his fists to his mouth, then dropped his hands and looked straight at Derek. “No, that’s not true. Maybe her death was my fault.”
Derek jumped up from the seat and lunged at him. Justin stiffened and held up his hands. “I didn’t hurt her, I swear.”
Derek stopped in mid-stride. “Tell me,” he threatened.
“Once we returned to her place, we argued. That’s all I meant.”
Derek studied Justin’s face. Justin’s hands didn’t fidget, and his gaze remained steady. Derek eased back down on the edge of the seat, anxious to hear how their fight might have led to his sister’s death. “Keep going.”
“Rayne blew everything out of proportion. I think her hormones were on a rampage.”
Not this early in the pregnancy, he bet, but what did he know about babies? “What did you argue about?” He wasn’t able to keep his voice even.
Justin dropped his head into his hands and sobbed. When he gained control of himself, he looked up. “I wanted to get married right away.” He wiped a hand under his nose. “Your sister didn’t. She said she wanted to wait until after the baby was born before we tied the knot.” He swallowed hard. “I couldn’t understand why she didn’t want to give the baby my name right away.”
“What reason did she give?”
Justin drew his fingers along the corners of his mouth, and his lips distorted. “She wanted to see how I’d handle her pregnancy before she committed to marriage. Does that make any sense?”
Derek tried to put himself in Rayne’s shoes. “She practically raised Billy by herself. I guess she thought she could do it again.”
“Yeah, that’s what she said. But still.”
The strain on Justin’s face mirrored his own. “Rayne was her own woman.” And fiercely private about her background.
“Don’t I know it?”
“How upset was she during this argument?” Derek asked, his mind attempting to put the scenario into a neat compartment. Order brought closure.
“Very. I said some awful things to her.” His eyes watered, but this time, Justin didn’t wipe away the tears. “We, ah, yelled a lot until she refused to talk anymore. I stupidly told her we were through, caput, done.” Justin scrubbed a hand over his face and sniffled. “I didn’t really mean I’d leave her for good. I only told her that in order to force her to change her mind.”
“Yeah, well shit happens.” The callous sounding comment came out without any thought.
“I know.”
Derek never let his gaze drop from Justin’s face. “Then what? There had to have been something more serious than that to have caused her to take her own life. Rayne was no stranger to arguments. She was a goddamn lawyer.”
Justin jumped up and stepped behind the chair, acting as though it would protect him from the horror of Rayne’s death. He rubbed his hands along the back edge. “My boss, Mr. Davis, was throwing a party I had to go to. I couldn’t stay and work out our issues.”
“You left her?” Derek raised his voice. He wanted to pummel the guy.
“What? You’ve never walked out on woman who wasn’t reasonable?”
Derek took a moment to decide whether he wanted to admit he’d done the same thing. “Yeah, I have.” To Kelly. He’d walked out on her when she wanted to break up with him. “Tell me this. Would you have lost your job if you’d told Mr. Davis you were having problems and couldn’t go to the party?”
A flash of uncertainty crossed his face. “No, but my boss was counting on me to land a big client that night. The commissions from this guy alone would have paid for all of Billy’s tuition this next year.”
Derek softened. “If that were the case, why didn’t you tell Rayne what was at stake? For Billy, she might have understood.” Derek knew the answer, but he wanted to hear Justin’s explanation. Once his sister became pissed off, she sulked, and then got even.
“I explained all of that. Rayne grabbed a soda, flicked on the TV, and refused to talk to me. What was I supposed to do? She wanted her space.”
A bit of understanding surfaced. “Then you left.”
“Yes. I figured she’d fume a little bit, sleep on it, and by morning she’d see my side of things.” He wove his tie through his hands as though the feel of silk soothed his pain. He hung his head. “I feel so bad about the way things ended.”
So did he. Derek still couldn’t imagine Rayne being so unreasonable. “Did she act more despondent than angry by the time you split?”
Justin avoided eye contact and asked instead, “Could I have something cold to drink?” He rubbed his throat. “I’m dry.”
His avoidance of the question put Derek on alert. “Sure.” He retrieved a cold beer from the fridge, handed Justin a bottle, and sat down. “Mad or sad?”
The bottle froze halfway to Justin’s lips, and then he lowered the beer. “What’s with the routine questions?” His lips pulled back in a sneer. “This just another case to you, Detective?”
Derek tamped down his anger. If Justin understood Rayne at all, he’d know how close they were. “Hardly. I loved Rayne. The way I ask questions is an old habit. Nothing more.”
Justin’s shoulders relaxed. He stepped in front of the chair and collapsed back down onto the seat. “I’m sorry. I’m not thinking straight.” Justin stroked his fingers through his hair and leaned forward. “Can I be honest with you?”
Derek stilled. “Sure.”
“I never expected Rayne to react the way she did. Yes, she argued, being a lawyer and all, but once she quieted, I freaked. I wasn’t prepared to deal with the silent treatment. We were in love. At least I thought we were. I’ve never seen anyone go inward like that before.” Justin slammed his palm against his forehead. “The whole discussion was stupid. If I’d agreed to wait longer to get married, she’d be here today.”
“It’s not your fault.”
Or was it? Justin should have stayed with Rayne to make sure she was okay before he left. He studied Justin. If he’d been in Justin’s shoes, and the woman had not been his sister, would he have walked out? Derek hoped to hell not.
“I can’t believe she’s dead.” Justin stared ahead, his voice flat. He leaned back against the chair and polished off the beer.
Derek took a swig of his drink, but tonight the cold brew tasted flat.
Something about Justin’s story made no sense. When Rayne got mad, she stayed mad until her fuse fizzled. Depression, listlessness, and hopelessness were not words in her vocabulary. She was upbeat, aggressive, and a take-charge kind of woman.
The whole scenario tilted too far to the right, only Derek didn’t know how to readjust the playing field.
Justin stood. “I’m glad we had this talk. I’m relieved to find someone who understands what I’m going through.”
Relieved? Once he shared his grief, all was well?
Derek stood and offered a hand. “Take care.” He showed Justin out and returned to the sofa.
Closing his eyes, Derek reviewed what Justin had said, refusing to eliminate his sister’s boyfriend as a suspect.
Derek needed to talk with his father to tell him about the tragedy, but he had no way of reaching him. “He’s hunting,” was all his dad’s friend had said. As soon as his father returned, maybe
the two of them could make sense of the horror. Together they could share the grief.
Tomorrow was going to really going to suck—maybe even more than today.
After escaping Derek’s place, Justin drove over to Rayne’s house. He parked one street away from and scoped out the area. Once convinced he wasn’t on anybody’s radar, he slipped between the two houses behind her home and edged up to the back door.
After wiping his sweaty palms on his pants, he held his breath as he slipped in his key. With a twist, the lock clicked. Yes! Derek hadn’t had time to contact a locksmith to change the locks. Once Derek thought about it, he wouldn’t want to give Justin free access to the house ever again.
He ducked under the police tape and entered. Justin pulled a small Mag light out of his pocket and flicked it on. The place smelled of death and disinfectant—both final evidence Rayne was gone.
She’d been the perfect woman for him—until he learned she was a goddamn Native American. Why couldn’t she have been the full-blooded Irishwoman like she has said she was?
God was he dumb. No wonder she only displayed photos of her now dead husband and son and none of her Seminole Indian father. As for Derek, no wonder he shaved his head. Those blue eyes had sure fooled Justin.
Yesterday’s events replayed in his head. As soon as they’d returned from Indian Bob’s house, he’d waited until Billy left, and then gone ballistic on her.
If the snoopy neighbor, Mrs. Anton, hadn’t yelled at them to keep their argument to a low roar, he could have denied being at the scene of the crime the night Rayne died. Christ. He didn’t need the police attention now.
Enough reminiscing. He’d come here for a purpose—to retrieve the file he’d left there by mistake—a file that could doom him for good.
Justin entered the dining room, his flashlight scanning the table. Crap. It wasn’t there. He bumped in a side table he didn’t remember being there, and something toppled and crashed to the ground. He jumped. “Damn.”
His breath rushed out of him, and he froze to see if anyone had heard the noise or seen the light. He twisted off the flashlight and stood still, the blood beating in his head, drowning out all other sounds.