by L. T. Vargus
He was still wearing the mask of nonchalance, but underneath it, Darger thought she could see something else. A fierceness in his gaze.
“Are you done?”
She stared back at him, gritting her molars together. She knew what he meant, but just now she had an urge to be melodramatic. Anything to rattle that unflappable expression he was wearing.
“Maybe I am.”
His eyebrows finally twitched.
“What does that mean?”
She shrugged.
“You’re gonna quit, then? Go back to teaching deep breathing exercises in OVA? If the Bureau would even let you, that is.”
She shook her head, not quite able to believe he could be such an asshole. At least not to her.
“Best of luck to you,” she said, scooping her phone from the table and rising to her feet.
When she reached the doorway of the lounge, she didn’t look back.
Chapter 5
Darger flopped onto the hard hotel mattress and glared up at the ceiling. Loshak’s words repeated in her head.
Go back to teaching deep breathing exercises, if they’ll even let you.
Dickhead.
But he wasn’t wrong. She didn’t know where she’d go at this point if she left her current position. She seemed to have a knack for losing the few friends she had in the FBI.
And leaving was the last thing she really wanted. Darger had never been the quitting type.
Her eyes wandered over to her purse, and she remembered the rectangular package inside. She sighed. Might as well get it over with.
But just as her fingers wrapped around the pregnancy test and slid it free, a musical jingle spurted out of her phone. She glanced at the screen, saw it was Owen, and winced.
“Hey,” she answered.
“You never called me back.”
“I know," she said, staring at the fuchsia box still clutched in her hand.
She hadn't told him about her missed period yet. Figured she might as well be certain before she dragged someone else into the mess. Still, she felt guilty about it. Like she was keeping secrets.
"I had to rush to make a flight, and then I forgot. I’m sorry.”
“So I’m assuming you’re now in some exotic locale?”
Darger’s eyes flitted to the window, catching a glimpse of the glittering lights of the Strip in the distance.
“Does Las Vegas count as exotic?”
“What’s in Vegas?”
Darger sat up, eyes roaming the flowered wallpaper border while she considered how she should answer. Owen would worry if he knew this was about Stump. He’d been there when she opened the letter and hadn’t stopped worrying since.
But he must have made the connection on his own.
“Does this have to do with Stump?”
“I don’t know. It might.”
No one had seen or heard from Leonard Stump since he’d escaped from a Carson City courthouse twenty years ago, after his first string of murders. It was one of the biggest unsolved mysteries of the last century, right up there with D.B. Cooper and Jimmy Hoffa.
True crime message boards on the internet were rife with theories: He lived in a remote cabin somewhere in the wilderness of Canada or Alaska. He’d gone to Mexico for radical plastic surgery and now sold life insurance in Fort Lauderdale. Many were convinced he was dead.
Even Darger might have entertained this last hypothesis up until a few months ago, when she received a letter signed by Leonard Stump. The FBI document lab analyzed the handwriting — comparing it to Stump’s jailhouse diary — and told her what she already knew: the letter was either authentic or an expert-level forgery.
I get the feeling, just now, that our paths may cross again. Perhaps soon, he’d written.
And now it looked like he was making good on his promise. Two female victims found burned in a car was textbook Stump.
Owen’s voice was tense. “I don’t like this, Violet.”
“No? I love it. Popping a trunk and finding two burned up bodies inside? Good times.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah,” she said, dropping the sarcastic tone. “Have you ever seen pictures of Pompeii? The plaster casts of the bodies?”
“That’s the volcano in Italy, right? I’ve seen photos, yeah.”
“That’s what the bodies reminded me of. The way they were huddled in that trunk. All curled up.”
Darger shook her head, trying to shake the images loose. When that didn’t work, she let herself fall backward until she was lying flat again.
“Anyway, it’s probably all moot at this point. I think I’m off the case.”
“What happened?”
“Loshak and I got into an argument. I may or may not have been a little overly dramatic.”
“How so?”
“Threatened to quit and then stormed out.
“He knows you don’t mean it. It’ll blow over.”
She pressed a fist against her forehead. “Maybe I did mean it.”
“Seriously?” Owen asked. “You’d leave the FBI?”
“I don’t know. He lied to me about why he was coming out here in the first place. I’m sick of getting jerked around. ”
“I’m sure he has his reasons.”
“He always does,” she said. “Know anyone looking to hire a loose cannon criminal psychologist?”
“As a matter of fact, I know of a very talented PI firm that might be able to make use of your skills.”
She scoffed. “Yeah, I know the kind of skills you have in mind.”
“You make it sound as if I’m suggesting something untoward, Miss Darger.”
She smiled at the old nickname.
“That’s because I know you. There’d be fine print in the job description that requires me to work in the nude.”
“Please. This is a legitimate operation I’m running here. I’d provide a uniform.”
“What kind of uniform?”
“Well, I was thinking one of those little French maid outfits.”
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t keep herself from grinning.
“Pass.”
Over the line, she heard the clack of lightning fast drums and a heavy distorted guitar.
“What are you working on right now?”
“How do you know I’m working?”
“Because I can hear the music in the background. You always listen to metal when you’re on surveillance.”
“Then you answered your own question right there, didn’t you? I’m on surveillance.”
“Well, what’s happening?”
“Nothing at the moment. I’m just sitting in my car waiting for the subject to come out of the house.”
“Who’s the subject?”
“I can’t really talk about it.”
Darger chuckled. “Cheating husband?”
“No.”
“Cheating wife?”
“No.”
“Trying to catch someone claiming a workman’s comp injury doing cartwheels through their front yard?”
“No.”
“Something more illicit? Does it involve our favorite biker gang, the Nameless Brotherhood?”
“No.”
“OK, I give up.”
Only silence answered her on the other line.
“Hello?”
“I’m still here.”
“But you’re not going to tell me what you’re up to, is that it?”
“Hard as this might be for you to believe, Violet, I am a professional.”
She snorted. “Says the guy suggesting a prospective employee wear a French maid outfit.”
“Hey, I’m not really supposed to discuss these things. There’s a certain level of discretion and privacy inherent to the job.”
“Discretion and privacy… What about the girl that ran off to join the alien sex cult? Or the landlord that was convinced one of his tenants was a Russian spy?”
“That was different.”
“Why?”
> “It just was.”
“You’re being shady.”
“I’m not discussing an ongoing investigation with you. How does that make me shady?”
“Because it’s not about being professional. You obviously have something to hide.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“No, I’m not. I can hear it in your voice. You’re all tense and defensive and, like, nervous. You never get nervous. You’re like… the Fonz.”
“The Fonz? Huh. I always thought of myself as more of a Han Solo.”
“Don’t try to change the subject. Are you doing something mildly illegal? Is that why you don’t want to tell me?”
He sighed.
“No.”
Darger twirled a lock of hair around her finger.
“Alright, well then I’ll have to assume the reason you don’t want to tell me is that you’ve been rethinking our relationship and—”
She heard an irritated grunt over the line and then Owen said, “Oh, for crying out loud. It’s a cat, OK?”
“A cat? What’s a cat?”
“The client is apparently just dying to know what her cat does when she’s away from the house. Not for any particular reason, mind you. She’s just curious.”
“About her cat?”
“Lady’s a higher-up at Delta. One of those corporate jobs that sound so boring they have to give you the big bucks just so you won’t off yourself. So she’s bored and loaded, and now she’s paying me to follow her cat.”
“Tail.”
“Pardon?”
“In this situation, you’d be remiss not to use the term tail. She paid you to tail the cat.”
“You know, I wouldn’t normally take on something this absurd. But it’s been a slow couple of weeks, and when I turned her down, she offered to pay double my usual fee.”
“What is the going rate for spying on a household pet these days?”
“I’m glad you’re so tickled by this.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how serious this was.” She cleared her throat. “Maybe she’s worried that Muffin has been cheating on her with the cat lady down the street?”
“And you wondered why I didn’t want to tell you.”
“So what kind of cat is it? I’m picturing one of those overly inbred Siamese cats with the crossed eyes, because who else pays to have a cat followed around?”
“It’s gray and white.”
“And?”
“How else can I describe a cat? He’s got four legs, two eyes—”
“No, I want to know if he’s done anything that’s going to get him in trouble with your client.”
“He’s a cat. He walks around and licks himself. Yesterday he chased a bird, and earlier today he used a neighbor kid’s sandbox as a toilet.”
“Scandalous.”
“Hold on… he just came out through the cat door. I have to go. One thing I’ll say about following a cat is that he’s forced me to hone my shadow skills. Any little noise or sudden movement tips him off. I’ll be a ninja by the time I’m through with this job.”
Darger squeezed her eyes together, thinking.
“Violet?”
“Sorry, I was trying to come up with a cat-related pun that would work as a goodbye, but I can’t think of anything.”
“Goodnight, Violet,” he said, only sounding a little annoyed. And she could tell he was smiling when he said it.
“Goodnight, Owen.”
She’d been able to forget her fight with Loshak during the phone call, but as soon as the line went dead, it all came flooding back. Muffled voices passed by the door on the way to the elevator, and Darger realized the thing that bothered her most about the argument was how much Loshak hadn’t seemed to care. He’d shrugged her off like it was nothing.
Her hands clenched into fists, and it was then that she realized she still held the pregnancy test box in one hand.
She'd put it off long enough. It was time.
* * *
Three minutes the box said, but it felt more like three hours.
Darger paced the length of her hotel room, back and forth, trying to keep her mind clear.
What if it was positive?
The question forced itself to the churning surface of her thoughts no matter how much she tried to push it away.
It wasn't that she didn't want kids. She liked them well enough. Thought it might be nice to one day have a family. But now? She tried to imagine cooking up a stack of pancakes for the kids in the morning and then running out to the latest grisly crime scene.
And what would Owen think? They'd never discussed it. Hell, they'd only been together for a few months.
She checked the timer on her phone. There was still a whole minute left and then some.
The ability to create life, to produce a fully formed human being — a body and a soul — that was the real magic of the universe. It made every woman a potential Goddess. But what an incredible responsibility. Too much for her, perhaps.
And now she waited. Waited to find out if she would wield that power. Watched from her place on the edge of the threshold of life and death — stared down the well to see if any light flared in its depths.
Her phone screeched. Time was up.
She inhaled long and deep and then stalked over to the bathroom.
Darger paused just inside the threshold, not quite having the courage to look yet. The stick rested on the sink with the business end hanging over the edge of the basin. Two lines meant the test was positive. One line was negative.
She counted to three and took the last few steps across the tile floor. Her eyes scanned along the white stick, coming to rest on the small window.
One line.
A sigh filled her chest, relief mixed with a bit of sadness. She was glad, of course, for all the reasons she'd recounted a hundred times over the last day or so. But a very small part of her worried that she may never have a family of her own, whether by fate or by choice.
Knuckles rapped lightly at her door, interrupting her thoughts.
She tossed the test into the trash bin and dragged herself to the peephole.
It was Loshak, of course. Who else?
The latch clicked as she turned the handle and opened the door. Loshak met her eyes from across the threshold. She stared back. Neither of them spoke for a moment. She sure as hell wasn’t going to be the first one to talk.
Finally, he sighed.
“Can I come in?”
He lifted his arm then, and she saw that he had a brown paper bag in his hand.
“I brought beer.”
Darger stepped back to let him through.
“First, I owe you an apology,” he said. “This whole thing has me a little rattled. And you’re right. I haven’t been a very good partner these last few weeks. I’ve kept things from you. Lied about why I was coming out here. I hope you know that it isn’t an issue of trust.”
“Then why? Explain it to me,” she said, closing the door behind her.
Loshak set the beer down and slumped into the chair by the desk.
“It got to me. The Stump case, I mean. It was my first big one. I was young and ambitious, and when he got away, I took it personally. This is a wrong I’ve been waiting to right for almost twenty years, and I know it’s dangerous to be that far in, but I can’t help it.”
Darger didn’t speak. She wanted to hear him out from beginning to end.
“Not to mention, I made promises the first time around. Promises that are still hanging over my head.”
“But why not just tell me?”
“Because of the letter. When he sent you that letter, I knew it was as much for my benefit as it was for yours. He’s messing with me. It’s a test. He wants to know if he’s gotten so far in my head that I’d use my partner as bait. But I won’t. I won’t do that to you, Violet.”
“Letting me do my job isn’t using me as bait.”
“Are you sure about that?”
She threw h
er hands in the air.
“So what am I supposed to do? Not work the case?”
Loshak snorted.
“Like you’d ever agree to that.”
Darger smiled.
“Besides that, when all is said and done, you’re still my partner. I need your help. Why else do you think I called you out here?”
“I don’t know, I figured you might have a hot gambling tip. A sure bet.”
Loshak raised his head finally and looked her square in the eye. “There’s no such thing as a sure bet.”
And Darger didn’t think he was talking about gambling anymore.
Chapter 6
The house creaks. The timber breathing.
Shifting a little in her seat, the pain flares again. Makes everything go dark for a few seconds.
Emily takes deep breaths as reality fades back in.
She can only picture her skull as a broken eggshell. All spider-webbed like a shattered mirror. Shards of bone missing. Scalp flaking off at the edges like peeling wallpaper.
It’s probably not that bad. Almost surely not. She knows this. It hurts worse than it is. Like all those times as a kid she was sure she was bleeding but the fingers checking the point of impact came away clean.
Not today. This time there’s blood.
She tastes it at the corner of her lip. It’s caked there along the left side of her mouth. Crusty and dry.
She probes with her tongue. Investigates. No wounds that she can find.
The red must have drained down from the dome of her skull. The point where the steel made impact. Blinking a few times she can feel where the dried blood pulls her eyelid taut as well.
She opens her eyes wide. Sits up a little. Another stab of hurt jabs at her temple as soon as she moves. Pain so sharp it wobbles her reality. Shuts her eyes for her. Almost pulls her back into unconsciousness.
She takes deep breaths. Endures it. Watches everything go darker and fade back to bright again. Conscious of little but her breathing and the awful throb in her skull.
The pain makes it hard to think. Hard to open her eyes. Hard to exist at all.
She waits a time like that. Just breathing. Chin tucked almost to her sternum. And then she opens her eyes again. Careful not to move at all.
At first, she is only conscious that she is alone, at least in terms of her immediate surroundings.