by Mary Stone
A poster advertising holiday happy hour specials hung over the taps, reminding Katarina that this would be her first-ever Christmas with her daughter. Her heart swelled in her chest but doubt soon pricked holes in her elation.
Since when did she know the first damn thing about celebrating the holidays, with a freaking eight-year-old, no less? She needed to make sure everything was perfect, but how? It wasn’t like Katarina and Kingsley had sat around the Christmas tree, singing carols and stringing colorful lights. And she’d rather not dwell on her foster families before that.
“Whaddaya having?” The bartender stood in front of her with his round stomach bulging beneath a black t-shirt, staring from beneath a pair of arched, bushy gray eyebrows.
Katarina’s gaze wandered back to the poster, and the doubts multiplied.
You and me, we’re a family now, Katarina. No one else could possibly understand us.
She’d planned on ordering a beer, but the unwelcome intrusion of Kingsley’s voice changed her mind at the last second. “I’ll take a gin and tonic.” Banishing the psychiatrist from her head required stronger measures.
The bartender went to work, mixing her choice into a squat glass and topping the combination off with a twist of lime. He slid the drink across the bar to her. “That’ll be five dollars.”
Katarina handed him six and then spun sideways on her stool to discourage any additional conversation. She sipped at the drink, the first she’d had in months. The more she sipped, the more her anxiety melted away.
A new song kicked off on the ancient jukebox. Some twangy tune by a country singer, moping about his ex-girlfriend and his pickup truck. A howl of laughter from the corner drowned out the chorus, and Katarina spun in that direction in time to catch one of the four men eying her.
He was attractive, with tanned skin instead of the pasty winter pale most everyone else sported in this god-awful December hell. His wavy brown hair looked soft and thick while a hint of stubble on a squared jaw promised a hint of pain. Broad shoulders filled out his flannel shirt nicely.
The man flashed her a cheeky grin, lifting his drink in an informal salute. Katarina snorted and turned away. She knew the type. A bad boy wannabe who fed his ego by charming his way into women’s beds.
Katarina had every intention of ignoring him, but there wasn’t much else to look at in the little bar, so her gaze kept sliding that way. Assessing. It was astonishing how much a person could learn about a stranger through simple observation. For example, Katarina would bet money that the cocky drink-saluting man was the ringleader of his little group of rowdies. The way the other men instantly quieted down whenever he’d lift a hand or shake his head was the giveaway. He both commanded and expected attention.
She also predicted that he’d swagger up and hit on her any minute now. She wasn’t disappointed. Right on cue, he sauntered over and dropped onto the stool next to hers, straddling the cushion and leaning his elbows over the backrest.
“Another Jack and Coke?”
The man winked at the bartender as an answer before turning to Katarina. His grin revealed a chipped upper tooth. “That, and another of whatever this little lady just guzzled down.”
With a start, Katarina glanced at her empty glass. How had she finished the first one so quickly? Not that it mattered. She pushed the glass away and faced her would-be drink buyer with an arched eyebrow. “No, thanks. If this little lady wants another drink, she’ll buy one herself.”
The man’s blue eyes narrowed for a split-second before his grin widened. “Feisty. Good to know. How about I buy you a drink another time instead?”
Katarina pretended to consider his offer before shaking her head. “Sorry, but I don’t think so.” She bent over to rummage in her purse, hiding a smile. If she knew one thing about men like him, it was that they always wanted what they couldn’t have.
Sure enough, when she rose from her seat, the man slid a cream business card in front of her. “Here’s my name and number, in case you change your mind.”
Almost too predictable. And probably far too wholesome for Katarina, despite the bad boy vibe he exuded.
Taking pity on his hopeful expression, she leaned in, curling one hand over his shoulder as she whispered into his ear. “Trust me, I’m doing you a favor. You don’t want to get to know me.”
The man reared his head back and laughed. He didn’t notice how serious she was. “Why not?”
Still leaning on his shoulder, Katarina placed her other hand on his leg right above his knee, smiling as her fingers inched their way up his jean-clad thigh. She made eye contact with him at the exact moment her hand curved around his balls and squeezed, wanting to savor the change in his expression.
Except, nothing happened. The man didn’t so much as flinch. Katarina squeezed harder. Still not a peep.
Interesting.
Katarina tilted her head, considering him with new eyes as a genuine smile curved her lips. “Because people around me get hurt.”
Never breaking eye contact, the man grabbed her hand and pressed it even harder against the growing bulge in his pants. “Perfect, darlin’, cause I like pain.”
A shiver raced across Katarina’s skin. She wet her suddenly dry lips with the tip of her tongue, relishing the way his gaze followed. Maybe she’d been a little too quick to turn him down. She swiveled her head, locating the restroom sign that beckoned to a dark hallway a few feet away. Did she dare? He exuded that adventurous-type vibe. The kind of man who’d be up for joining her on a quick trip to the ladies’ room.
Music burst from her purse, intruding on her plan. “Hold that thought.”
She dug her phone out, staring blankly at the alarm notification until she remembered. Shit! Time to pick up Harmony—Bethany!—from school.
She shook her head. What kind of terrible mother was she to forget about her kid so quickly? Over a stranger with a high pain tolerance that she’d met in a bar?
While the man watched, Katarina gathered her things. Time to leave. “Bye now.”
She had every intention of heading straight for her car, but on impulse, pivoted back to the man. She intended the kiss to be nothing. A simple brushing of her lips against his. She’d underestimated his reflexes.
Quick as a snake, the stranger’s hands whipped out, pulling her close as his mouth moved over hers. He tasted of Coke and spice, a delicious combination that made Katarina’s body tingle all over. His teeth sank into her bottom lip, an unexpected pinch that sent flames racing along her nerves.
Her phone blared its second reminder, insisting that she go. With effort, Katarina pushed away, surprised to note the fuzziness in her head. Damn. She’d seriously underestimated the stranger. Either that, or she’d miscalculated how much she missed being with a man.
Katarina didn’t bother saying goodbye. After patting him on his tanned cheek, she turned and strolled across the bar, sensing his gaze on her the entire way to the door. It took her every moment of the drive to the school to shift her focus back to the afternoon she’d planned for her and her daughter.
Christmas trees and hot chocolate and Bethany.
That was her future.
Not some player who hung out in dive bars in rural Wyoming. No matter how good of a kisser he was.
But as she pulled into the pick-up line, Katarina’s gaze fell onto the business card she’d tossed into the center compartment. Clayne Miller of Miller Distributing. She reached down to rip it into shreds but hesitated as she ran her fingers over the glossy surface.
She ended up tucking the card into her glove box instead.
Clever girls knew when to keep their options open. Lucky for Katarina, she considered herself to be an exceptionally clever girl indeed.
8
The sudden burst of pain stole Jillian’s breath as she pushed into a sitting position on the edge of her bed. She dug her fingers into the mattress, waiting for the burning sensation that shot into her leg to subside. Every morning, the same thing. Ever since E
llie’s car had exploded.
Not that Jillian was complaining, because she was lucky. She knew that. A few scrapes and an occasionally stiff back were a small price to pay, compared to the carnage Kingsley had intended when he’d planted the bomb.
As she dangled her legs off the mattress and waited for the pain to recede, her eyes gradually grew accustomed to the darkness of the early hour. Once she was ready, Jillian eased to a standing position. Her toes curled into the plush rug that protected her feet from the chilly wooden floorboards.
Creak.
She cringed. Stupid mattress, always making noise at the most inopportune moments. The covers behind her rustled. Jillian glanced over her shoulder at the bulky shape sprawled across the other half of the bed, and her heart softened.
Jacob Garcia rolled onto his back, but his eyes remained closed. Once the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest reassured her that he was still asleep, Jillian grabbed the work clothes she’d laid on her dresser the night before and crept into the adjoining bathroom to shower.
After she finished dressing in a pair of gray pants and a navy-blue polo, Jillian brushed tinted moisturizer onto her face, applied her favorite matte red lipstick, and once she pulled her blonde hair back into a low ponytail, pronounced herself ready to go. She worked as the evidence clerk in the Charleston PD basement, not the Ritz. No need for her to get all fancied up when the only thing to impress down there were rows of evidence boxes.
Shoes in hand, Jillian left the bedroom and padded toward the kitchen. She zoomed directly to the fancy coffee maker on the counter, where a pot half-full of the dark brown ambrosia beckoned. After filling her oversized I’m a Badass mug—complete with an illustration of a donkey—to the top, she turned, inhaled the delicious fragrance, and sighed. Coffee. The most wondrous liquid elixir known to womankind. In Jillian’s opinion, whoever invented coffee hadn’t received nearly enough credit.
She set the mug on the kitchen table and plunked into the chair next to where Ellie sat, already dressed and hunkered down over an open file. After her first sip, Jillian sighed again. “Have you ever wondered how we have all these national days—National Donut Day, Hug Day, Take Your Aardvark to Work Day—and yet we don’t have a National Coffee Day?”
Ellie lifted her head from the notebook she’d been staring into like the pages contained the answer to the meaning of life and wrinkled her nose. “There’s a Take Your Aardvark to Work Day?”
Jillian shrugged, swallowing another life-giving sip of the warm liquid. “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there was.”
Her friend’s mouth curved up briefly before she returned her attention to the papers spread out before her.
“The Danielle Snyder case?” At Ellie’s nod, Jillian clucked her tongue in sympathy. “Would it help to go over the details out loud?”
Ellie rubbed the back of her neck. “That would be great, actually. If you’re sure you don’t mind.”
Jillian snorted and rolled her eyes. “When have I ever minded you sharing your cases with me?”
If anything, Ellie talking through cases with her tended to be the highlight of Jillian’s workday. Sure, Jillian enjoyed working as the evidence clerk at the Charleston PD, deriving a great deal of satisfaction from creating an orderly system in that file wasteland of a basement. But even satisfied girls needed a fresh challenge every now and then.
Ellie shuffled the papers around on the table. “Okay, so you already know the night Dani Snyder disappeared. She went to a party with her best friend, Roxanne, right?”
Familiar with her friend’s process of asking rhetorical questions as she worked things out, Jillian didn’t bother to answer. She sipped her coffee and waited.
“According to witnesses, Dani ran out of the party early after catching her boyfriend making out with another girl, crying. Roxanne followed her, and that’s the last time the two girls were ever seen alive.”
“Yikes. That’s terrible.” Jillian hadn’t meant to comment yet. The words had just sort of slipped out. She took another sip of coffee to shut herself up.
Ellie nodded and brought her own mug to her lips. She took two long swigs of the brew before continuing. “Roxanne’s body was found at a nearby park, near the swing set. Blood found on the retaining wall turned out to be hers. The medical examiner found bruises on her upper arms, consistent with an assailant grabbing her and Roxanne trying to pull away. The shoe patterns in the sand leading to the girl’s body also indicated a struggle, so the theory is that Roxanne tried to run, fell, and hit her head. She died of a traumatic brain injury.” Twin furrows formed over Ellie’s nose. “No DNA linking Dani to the scene, but the detectives recovered her phone and jacket.”
Jillian flinched. Poor Roxanne. And Dani. She bet whatever whisked the latter girl away from her best friend’s dead body wasn’t good.
Also, poor Ellie. Jillian studied her roommate, searching for signs of strain within the heart-shaped face. The circumstances of Dani’s disappearance mirrored Ellie’s own kidnapping, in that both girls vanished after running away from a party. Until she solved the case, that similarity would eat at Ellie. Like a bone cancer.
Jillian worried the overlap would also spur her friend to work herself to the point of exhaustion.
After a minute passed by where Ellie brooded into her mug without a peep, Jillian figured it was safe to ask a question. “Any other evidence at the scene?”
Her friend twirled a copper curl around her finger. One of the cute little habits that Jillian caught her friend performing whenever a puzzle piece refused to snap into place. Although, cute really wasn’t the best way to describe Ellie. More like beautiful. Or stunning.
“Not much.” Ellie pulled her finger down, stretching the curl straight before letting it spring back up. Only to recapture that same tendril around her finger yet again.
Twirl, release. Twirl, release. Jillian wondered if someone could hypnotize themselves by watching that copper curl coil and uncoil, over and over again.
“They found three sets of footprints, sizes eight, nine, and thirteen. The larger prints were shallow heading toward the swings and got deeper on the way out, probably because he was carrying Dani by then. Those same prints led to Roxanne’s body, where they stopped and shortened to show only the front half of the tread.”
At that last detail, confusion clouded Jillian’s mind. “Wait, don’t tell me, let me see if I can figure it…” She gasped. “Oh! I get it! The attacker crouched down by the body to get a closer look?”
Ellie glanced up from the file to flash Jillian a quick smile. “Smarty pants. That’s exactly what they believe happened.”
Jillian lifted her nearly empty mug. “I’m telling you, it’s the coffee. Studies show caffeine improves your brain function.”
A gloomy sigh escaped her friend’s lips. “I should probably drink up then because this case looks like it’s going to be pretty damn tough.”
“You say that every time when you start a new case but look at how many you’ve closed. You’re a rock star. In fact, forget National Coffee Day. What we really need is an Ellie Kline Day.”
That last comment coaxed a snicker out of Ellie. “Now, that would definitely endear me to the other detectives back at the station.” When she looked at Jillian, though, her green eyes glowed with appreciation. “Thank you for the vote of confidence. I need it more than you can imagine.”
Jillian inclined her head in her interpretation of a regal nod. “Hey, that’s what I live for: drinking coffee and giving my best friend pep talks.”
Her black Lab mix chose that moment to trot over, plopping her furry butt on Jillian’s bare foot, and gazing up at her with reproachful brown eyes. “And yes, I live for giving Sam ear rubs too, my bad.”
The dog’s ecstatic groans filled the room as Jillian scratched that hard-to-reach spot behind the mutt’s drooping ears.
“How do you predict Jacob’s going to feel when he finds out Sam made the list of things his
girlfriend lives for and he didn’t?” Ellie teased.
Jillian fake gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.” She bobbed her eyebrows and gave her friend a sinister grin. “Mostly because I have way too much dirt on you.”
“Sad, but true.” Ellie turned back to the notebook, her shoulders slumping again.
“Anything else?”
“No. That’s the problem. That’s really all there is to know. The most likely scenario is that Dani was taken alive, possibly to sell into a sex or human trafficking ring. I’m betting Roxanne would have met the same fate if not for hitting her head.”
“That’s really not much to go on, is it?” Jillian swirled the coffee in her cup.
“Not so much. I have to meet with Charles Snyder this afternoon, and it’s not like I have any good news for him.”
That name pinged around in Jillian’s head before landing. Her eyes widened. “Not the same Charles Snyder who hosts Do You Feel Lucky?”
“Yep, that’s Dani’s dad. My theory is that after all this time, the call is a fake. So, I’m not particularly excited about this visit.”
“Oof, I’m sorry.” Jillian now better understood her typically optimistic friend’s slumped posture. This was why Jillian was happy to remain tucked away in the basement. It took a special kind of person to deal with grieving families in a sensitive way, and Jillian knew herself well enough to know she didn’t qualify. Even now, her cheeks burned with helpless anger. “Also, what kind of an asshole prank calls a devastated father and pretends to be his kidnapped daughter? After all these years?”
“The worst kind of asshole.” Ellie rested her chin in her palm and blew out a breath. “And I can only come up with two reasons to bother. Either the caller wanted to inflict pain, or they want money.”
Jillian mulled over the two options. Pain or money. Great.
She rested her chin in her own hand, suddenly feeling depressed too. “Okay, but why him? And why now? Surely there are more recent targets to go after for ransom money, if that’s what they’re after.”