Texas and Tiaras (The Book Cellar Mysteries 2)

Home > Other > Texas and Tiaras (The Book Cellar Mysteries 2) > Page 16
Texas and Tiaras (The Book Cellar Mysteries 2) Page 16

by Melissa Storm


  “That movie wasn’t so bad, actually,” Brooke admitted as she helped him pull the raisins, nuts, and dried cranberries from the cabinets.

  He laughed and shook his head. “It’s one of the lesser evils when it comes to kids’ programming, but watch it another million times like I have and you’ll hate it too. Can you grab the sauce pan from under there, please?”

  She retrieved the requested container and handed it over to Jesse.

  He frowned. “Man, I can’t believe Heather pulled this again. Oh, wait. Yes, I can.”

  “Does she cancel plans a lot?”

  “So much that I never expect her to actually follow through any more, and the girls are starting to catch on,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “Truth be told, I didn’t realize just how alone I’ve been until you moved in.”

  Warning lights started flashing in Brooke’s brain, but she also didn’t want to back down from whatever may happen with Jesse if she’d just let it. With a friendly-but-not-exactly platonic smile, she asked, “What do you mean?”

  “I feel like I finally have a partner, a friend. You’re more of a mother to those girls than Heather is right now, and you’re more of a—”

  No, this is wrong. “Jesse, don’t.”

  “...Wife to me,” he finished.

  “I told you not to,” she whispered.

  “Not to what?” He closed the small gap between them and brought one hand to her waist, the other to stroke her cheek. “Not to… kiss you?”

  His lips followed close behind his words. Soft, curious, searching, and so, so different from Brian’s. He pulled back quickly and studied her reaction.

  “Not to… stop,” she whispered, leaning back in for another kiss. She now understood how Eve felt when sinking her teeth into the first bite of that sweet, sweet forbidden fruit. Knowing Jesse was off limits made sharing this moment with him all the more thrilling. Because that’s what it was, right? Wanting what she couldn’t have. She hadn’t seriously fallen in love with—?

  Thunk!

  A sudden burst of noise at the edge of the kitchen startled them from their perfect moment. Brooke pulled back for air and scanned the room until her eyes landed on…

  Heather.

  “And just what is going on here?” she demanded.

  Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no. Brooke could explain this. She could, but first she’d start with an apology. “Heather, I—”

  “I’m not talking to you, princess. Jesse, what’s going on?” She glared at Brooke with a serpent’s eyes, then turned her stony gaze toward her newly wayward husband.

  “Heather, stop. It wasn’t her fault. I—”

  “Not her fault? Not her fault? I see the way she traipses around this town, using her feminine charms to get whatever she wants. I should have known it would only be a matter of time before she came for my husband.”

  Brooke jumped in to apologize again, but Heather cut her off.

  “No, you don’t get to explain yourself. And after we took you in? Get out.” She pointed toward the door, her hand shaking with fury. “Now.”

  “Brooke, you don’t have to,” Jesse said.

  “Are you kidding me right now, Jess? Yes, she does have to. Either she goes or I do, and if I leave, I’m taking the girls with me. Oh, and all the money.” She laughed bitterly.

  “It’s fine, Jesse. Really. Heather’s right. I don’t belong here.”

  “First smart thing that’s ever come out of that mouth,” Heather hissed.

  “But you can’t go back to that lunatic!” Jesse protested, pushing past his wife to follow Brooke toward the door.

  “I’m not going back to him, but I can’t stay here.”

  “But where will you go?”

  “I’ll figure something out,” she said, knowing even then that she only had one option left.

  Vi.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Annabeth

  Annabeth flexed her feet away from her body. She and Marcus had been following Heather’s boss around all day. Besides catching them exchanging something that looked like a thumb drive, neither had seen anything that warranted suspicion. Mr. Morgan hadn’t been keen on the idea of involving the police especially since he often encouraged them to work outside the confines of the law to do their job. He had more than a little thrilled to hear they had cloned Heather’s old laptop’s memory, even though they hadn’t gotten any new information off of it.

  “Mike messaged me again. The forensic team wasn’t able to identify the chemicals on the cloth the dead girls were wrapped in. He really wants us to come forward and work with the police,” Annabeth said.

  Marcus cracked his neck. “Yeah, but we promised Morgan that we would hold off a little longer. If we don’t make any headway by Monday, then maybe we should.” He sighed and rubbed his upper thigh. “I’m not sure what else I can do. We got nothing from the Abrahamsons and the others don’t really have much of an electronic footprint. Fin just posts pics of his pecs on Instagram. Something I can never un-see, by the way.”

  Annabeth’s arms broke out in goose bumps at the mention of Fin. She hadn’t told Marcus yet about the incident on campus. She’d tried a few times, but the words just wouldn’t come out. She shook her head, trying to shake the feeling of dread in her heart. “I know we’ve talked about this before, but is it at all possible that Heather is unaware of the company's connection to the group?”

  Marcus wet his lips with a quick sweep of his tongue. The car’s AC did little to cut the oppressive heat, but did a great job of sucking the moisture out of the air. “I don't know, babe. The financials are squeaky clean. Too clean for there not to be some kind of funny business. I can't imagine that the CEO and the VP don’t know what’s going on. And the whole thing with the big deposits of cash in her business account and that thing with the thumb drive, that was weird.” He nibbled a broken nail bit off his index finger.

  Gross.

  A sigh escaped his full lips. He looked tired. “I don't know, Anna.”

  Annabeth tossed a stick of gum in her mouth to get rid of the acidic, after-coffee taste. Her phone buzzed with an incoming text.

  “Fin, again?” Marcus smirked and looked out the window.

  Annabeth’s stomach did a flip-flop. His messages had begun to escalate. They were more graphic and suggestive since the day on campus, which meant it wouldn’t be long before he struck again. She opened the text, which was, of course, from Fin. A photo of some familiar looking girls looked back at her. Why do I know these girls? Another photo showed up. The second one clued her in to where she had seen them before. They were the women participating in Ligia’s event.

  Marcus glanced back at her. “What is it this time?”

  Annabeth handed him the phone. He flipped through the photos and handed it back to her. “He's hanging out with Ligia’s beauty pageant clients again.”

  Marcus continued to fiddle with his nails—a disgusting habit. “It looks like the pictures are just of the same girls who are participating in Vi’s charity thing.” Marcus’s lips formed a thin line.

  “Of course. Of course, he’s going to go after them now.” She tossed her phone onto the dash causing it to hit the glass with a sickening thunk.

  Her headed pounded. I just can't catch a break.

  “That’s it. What's Mike’s friend’s name?” Marcus shifted in the leather seat and rubbed his leg where the cast used to be. He might be doing too much, too soon. Though she couldn’t blame him for being anxious to get out from behind his computer screen.

  He gave her arm a light squeeze. “I know Morgan doesn’t want us going to the cops, but that app isn’t working to track Fin when he messages your phone. And I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to run out of ideas. This is way too much for just two people.”

  Annabeth nodded and turned her head away from him. The whole thing overwhelmed her. She couldn't let him see the tears welling up in her eyes. She bit her lip hard and dug her nails into her palm—anything to st
op the sob from escaping her tightly clasped lips.

  Marcus’s deep baritone voice dropped to a near whisper. “This isn't like it was at the FBI, babe. The cops can help us make some headway…”

  His words tore at the raw wound left open. If she could burn the memories of her time at the bureau, she would.

  The shame. How could she get over that?

  They hadn’t fired her, but they hadn't really encouraged her to stick around either. That day she’d turned in her badge and gun....She didn’t even want to think about what might have happened if Marcus hadn’t swooped in and suggested the whole PI thing. Even when no one was asking him to leave. His intense gaze bore into her, leaving her raw and exposed.

  “Babe.” He tugged her arm so she would turn and face him. Another tug and she whirled around.

  “Marcus, just... don't.” The tenuous hold she had on her emotions released.

  Marcus cupped her cheek with his strong, sure hand and her frozen heart began to melt. “We’re in this together, Anna. You don't have to shoulder this challenge alone.”

  The sheer effort of keeping it all together caused her to tremble and shake. “I can do this. I have to do this.”

  Marcus sighed. “It’s not a sign of weakness to ask for help. That's been your problem all along. You have to let people in…. you have to let me in. Can you do that for me, baby?”

  Annabeth crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “I let you in!” Even as the words left her mouth she knew it wasn't true.

  “None of this is going to work, Anna. Not until you stop lying to yourself. It’s not just you with skin in the game. This is a two-person job, babe.”

  The nerve of this man, telling me what to do and how to feel!

  Marcus’s features softened and he settled into the leatherback seats. “I love you. Why can't you see that?” He reached for her like he might touch her, but pulled back at the last minute. “I’m only trying to help.”

  Annabeth steeled herself against his efforts to break through her walls. Even though they had talked through the whole incident with him and the bartender, she still resisted getting close to him again. She loved him—she did—but didn’t know how to let go and trust him. “I should call Ligia and let her know her clients are in danger.”

  Marcus shook his head. Disappointment dripped from him like the sweat that clung to his brow. Once more, she had managed to let him down.

  “If that's the conclusion you want to jump to—”

  “What other conclusion is there?”

  Marcus’s brow formed an angry V. “That this guy is messing with you…distracting you from what he is really up to. He’s pushing your buttons and you rise to the occasion every time.” He crossed his arms more tightly, causing his forearm to flex—distracting her and making her lose her train of thought.

  She shook her head and looked away from him. “What if you’re wrong? What if they really are in danger? What then? Another girl…” She choked on the ball of emotions that rolled around in her throat, preventing her from speaking her fears.

  What if I make another mistake and another young woman dies?

  It had been hard enough after the incident, when their relationship problems had distracted them during a time when they really should have been paying attention. During an attempt to catch some of the low level operatives, one of the men used a young woman as a hostage and human shield. The standoff ended badly with the young girl being shot. Annabeth still dreamed about the young girl dying on the scene before the ambulance came. They weren’t held responsible, but in her heart she knew the woman’s death was all her fault. Then of course Amy and Anjali died after she failed to protect them. She didn’t think she could take another loss.

  Marcus unbuckled his seat belt. “All the more reason to work with the police.” He opened his car door and glanced back at her. “I need a little fresh air. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He left the car—slamming the door shut behind him.

  Annabeth couldn’t hold it in a minute longer. The welled-up emotions erupted from her and she buried her face in her hands. Her body quaked and the shifting plates of her unspent sadness kept the violent tears coming. She knew if she didn’t do something soon she would lose him for good. His patience with her could only go so far, after all. The thought of him walking away from her by choice wakened her to the reality of the situation. She couldn’t continue to let her pride get in the way of her relationship with Marcus.

  A knock at her window startled her. She looked up to see Marcus holding up his phone. She rolled down the window. “What?”

  “I just got a notification that another large sum of money was transferred into Heather’s personal business account.”

  “More hush money?”

  “Something must have happened. Maybe they know we are watching them.” A bead of sweat ran down his cheek. “With your permission I think I am going to hit on her assistant. Try and see what I can’t find out from her.”

  He said that she could trust him, but he didn’t have the best track record when it came to fidelity. She was the only woman he’d had a serious relationship with. Even though it pained her to say so, she did need to learn to trust him again. So why not today?

  “All right, but remember whose man you are.”

  Marcus smirked and pecked her on the lips. “I’m yours. Just yours.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Vi

  Vi stumbled up her driveway, where her dance studio friend had dropped her off. She’d just been through a grueling meeting with the Indian Consulate to discuss her client who’d overdosed on drugs after she and Annabeth had talked to her about the sex ring she’d escaped from. The poor girl had wanted to go home. If her parents had taken her back, maybe she wouldn’t have died.

  It had taken the consulate weeks to get hold of Vi, and the interview had only lasted an hour, though it seemed like a century long.

  “You were the last person to see Ms. Anjali Sharma alive?” The old baldheaded man had asked her right off.

  “Yes, but I didn’t know she was doing drugs or that she had any with her at the shelter.” She still felt responsible for the young girl’s death. She should have noticed, right?

  It was clear pretty the consulate wasn’t at all interested in discussing the girl’s drug use. They needed someone to blame for her death and they could easily find a ready-made scape goat in the shelter and specifically, in Vi.

  “What did you and Ms. Anjali discuss?” they wanted to know.

  “Is it customary to allow private investigators to interrogate the women?” One of the men, a stout man in his mid to late sixties, had been the worst.

  “We...she...I didn’t interrogate Ms. Anjali,” she said. “We wanted to help her to get home safely to her family. They refused to let her come home. I’m sure she must have felt lost and betrayed by her family.”

  Vi couldn’t get out of there fast enough. She longed to go home and unwind.

  Her house looked especially creepy in the dark. The windows resembled giant eyes, the door a cavernous mouth. Scary things crept to the forefront of her mind. Halloween decorations littered the neighborhood—showcasing the macabre in a mostly fashionable way.

  The most frightening thing to Vi, however, wasn’t the zombies or the fake, life-like bodies that hung from the trees.

  No, what kept her up at night were things like the shut-off notices, maxed out credit cards, calls from collection agencies or the consulate placing the blame on her and shelter. Horrors of reality scared her more than the banal, go-bump-in-the-night monsters that were always in vogue this time of year.

  But…

  She couldn’t hide under the blanket forever. Eventually she would have to face her problems head on. Perhaps not tonight, though. No, a hot bath, some tea, and a relaxing book were on the agenda instead.

  Vi sighed and dragged her tired legs up the walk to her front door. The grass had been mowed and her shrubs had been pruned. Jesse…that man. She couldn’t than
k God enough for his friendship. I should send him a thank you card…or a six pack of beer or something. Lost in thought she didn’t notice right away that she wasn’t alone.

  On the front stoop of her porch sat a box of tissues and an ex-friend. Brooke. A rush of emotions hit Vi all at once. She hadn’t seen Brooke in the flesh since that horrid night. Despite the fact that she was ready to talk to her again; she still felt the bitter anger boiling in her veins. The anger mixed with the longing to go back to the way things had been since before they stopped talking. After the last few Brooke-less weeks, she’d learned how much she’d relied on her ex-BFF.

  Apparently, she needed that little drama in her life—or at least the fun kind that Brooke tended to bring along with her. Besides, even with all that had happened, Vi never once doubted that Brooke loved her and wanted the best for her and Joy.

  “I’m sorry. I had nowhere else to go.” Brooke looked up from the crumpled tissue in her hands. Her normally perfect face ran down her cheeks, creating a horrifying mask. Even her nails were chipped.

  Vi had never seen her look so vulnerable before. Something about this new change softened her heart towards Brooke. She stood in place, a yard of space separating them. The last few steps were the hardest to make. She would need something from Brooke for her to bridge the gap between them

  “Heather kicked me out.” A deep-heaving sob escaped her lips. “And I left B-B-B-Bri...” Her face collapsed into the worst ugly cry Vi had ever witnessed.

  “Ligia told me everything. I’m so sorry, Brooke.”

  “I’m the one who should be sorry, Vi. I messed everything up…you have every reason to hate me…I hate me.”

  The words she had been waiting for had at long last been spoken. Brooke was sorry and there was no doubt in Vi’s mind that it was a genuine apology. Tears stung the corner of Vi’s eyes as she walked the rest of the way up the walk and took a seat next to her bawling friend. She wrapped her good arm around Brooke’s stooped shoulders and pulled her in close. “I’m here.”

 

‹ Prev