The Rookie Club Thriller series Box Set

by Danielle Girard

  She felt empty—the same emptiness that sometimes came at the end of a work day when she longed for Nate—where the longing to see him or touch him or smell him was so strong that it was unbearable. Not like the passion of wanting someone you’ve never touched, but a need so deep it felt like desperation for something as basic as water or food. She stopped, wanting to sit down or sleep. The effort of thinking was like running through water.

  Diego let go of her and walked away. A moan came out of her throat. It was meant to be a protest, some sort of loud rebuttal to his words. But, she couldn’t manufacture it. Seeing him had melted her resolve. She wouldn’t fight with him. Maybe he was a killer and a bastard. She was too levelheaded to love him after all that had happened.

  But, she did love him.

  So, she stood there without making a move, trying with all her strength not to watch him leave.

  He pushed open the front door and, after pausing on the threshold to consider his options, disappeared onto the street. She kept an eye on Mrs. Yee as she returned to the counter. She pressed the cold Snapple bottle to her neck. The short pop, pop of gunfire came from the street. The bottle slipped from her hands.

  Mrs. Yee dropped out of view behind the counter. Before Cameron could move, Diego burst through the door and pushed past her toward the back of the store.

  She followed, but the liquid made the floor slick. She fell backward. There was a loud noise and pain in her head. The room spun, and it felt like things slowed down briefly. When she opened her eyes, faces swarmed like bees above her. Their voices hummed and droned. She couldn’t make out one from the other. She could have sworn she saw Sergeant Lavick and Daley and Ballestrini, but one face was closer than the others, and she focused on Ricky’s lips. She could tell he was shouting by the pulsing of the veins in his neck. Oddly, she didn’t hear his words, but from the movement of his lips, she could tell he was screaming, “She’s shot. She’s shot.”

  She lifted her hand to her head and saw the blood run down over her fingers like bright paint.

  Chapter 26

  Ivana should have been dead. There were some moments, as it all flashed back, when she wished she were. The bruises were beginning to heal. Her face looked like hers again, rather than the bloated side of a sick fish like the ones that used to hang in the market at home in summer. Ivana Pestova was not the girl she used to be. She glanced at the clock, pulling her mind from the things she wasn’t supposed to think about.

  It was almost six o’clock now. She was relieved that her first day in the new job was almost over. Just as he’d said, the woman took her in and gave her work. Ivana had changed the water and cleaned the basins and tools. She’d never had her nails done, so it was new to watch the women who came in and read magazines, turning pages delicately with wet fingernails.

  The place she was living was much better. She slept in a small room by herself. There were others there. They shared a small kitchen where there was food. It wasn’t fancy, but she could make tea and that was nice. She had her own key. She could come and go as she pleased. But, today was her first day out and only for her new job in the shop. Nothing else appealed to her. She hoped to save her money and go home, but the pay was small. It felt like it would take forever.

  The woman in the shop was nice. She said there was another woman who would come by and that she was the owner. Or Ivana thought that was what she said. It was hard to communicate. The worst part was lying about her name and where she was from. He had told her not to give her real name until he came back and told her it was okay. He had told her that there was danger.

  The men on the street by the salon, the few that came inside, they all scared her. She tried to hide herself, to keep her head down, but they always seemed to watch her. At the tavern where she used to work at home, she’d loved the men to notice her. She’d had Amira to protect her. Now, she had no one. Tears threatened to fall. She blinked hard and touched her eyelids with the backs of her hands.

  By seven, she would be making her way back to the apartment. There, she would make something warm to eat from the cupboards and read her book. She’d found a tattered old copy of Little Women. It was in English, but she knew the story backward and forward, and so she was making her way through it slowly with the help of a Czech/English dictionary someone had left in the apartment. It helped to pass the time at night. She didn’t go out. Her desires to see America, to experience it all, had disappeared.

  There were a lot of things she didn’t let herself think of—most of all, her mother and Michal. When she thought of them, she cried and couldn’t stop. Her memories of their freezing apartment, her worn jeans and holed sneakers flooded over her. She wished she could go back. More than anything, that was what she wished.

  She also avoided thinking about Anna. She worried that something terrible had happened to her friend. Worse than her own experience. That was the final thing she didn’t let enter her mind—what had happened. It made her so sick and shaky that she couldn’t sleep or eat.

  She started when the front bell rang and another woman came in. Ivana rose and welcomed her the way Wanda told her to. “Welcome. How can we help you?” she asked awkwardly, tripping over the unfamiliar words and blushing.

  The woman seemed confused. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Iv—Katrina. Katrina Tatriva.” Her cheeks burned.

  Wanda emerged from the back. “Rosa. This is Katrina. She came in with a note this morning.”

  Ivana held perfectly still.

  “What note?”

  Wanda scattered papers on the desk and flipped through the appointment book before finally finding what she was looking for. She handed Rosa the page the man had given her. Ivana had memorized it.

  Querida Rosa,

  Not sure what Cameron has told you, but I need your help. The girl is in some danger and needs a safe place to work. I will help pay her if need be. I hope to be in touch soon. Love to you and her and baby.

  Tu Hermano, D

  Some of it she hadn’t understood. Wanda seemed a little confused, too. But, she let Ivana in. Now, it was up to Rosa.

  “Brother?” Rosa said out loud, then gasped.

  Ivana stepped back.

  “A man brought you?”

  Ivana was afraid she was about to be kicked out.

  “About this tall?” Rosa said, reaching her hand above her own head.

  Ivana nodded.

  “Handsome?”

  Ivana hesitated, swallowing slowly.

  “Was he good-looking?”

  She stared at her feet.

  “Did he tell you his name?”

  Ivana said nothing.

  “Was his name Diego?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Oh, Dios.”

  Ivana feared that she’d said something wrong, but Rosa patted her arm. “And you speak English?”

  She made a small pinch with her fingers. “I try. Only a little.”

  “I’ve got to call Cameron.” Rosa pulled her cell phone out and punched something in. It was amazing how fast her fingers moved.

  “Where are you staying?” Rosa asked with the phone to her ear.

  Ivana wasn’t sure who she was talking to—her or the person on the phone. “Katrina, where are you staying? Are you somewhere safe?”

  “Yes. Yes, I am okay. I have need for the work.”

  “Okay. We’ll take care of that. Have you worked in a salon before?”

  “I’ve never been in a salon before,” Ivana said.

  “She didn’t answer.” Rosa typed something into the screen and put the phone in her pocket.

  One of the other stylists took her purse from under the front desk and said good night. Most of the others had already left. Mondays were slow, Wanda explained.

  “I texted her,” Rosa said. “In the meantime, I’ve got a cut and color at eight so I’m here. Can you stay for a while?” Rosa asked.

  “Yes,” Ivana said. “Of course.”

  “I’ve
got someone coming in at seven for a pedicure.” Wanda pointed to Ivana. “That gives me time to give Katrina a little trim.”

  “Sure,” Rosa agreed. “Does she want one?”

  “She just said she’d never been in a salon,” Wanda bantered back. “Do you want me to do your hair, Katrina?”

  Ivana hesitated. Finally, she said, “I am Ivana.”

  “Ivana?” Rosa repeated.

  “She’s saying her name’s Ivana, not Katrina,” Wanda explained.

  “I understand that. She’s speaking English,” Rosa snapped.

  “Well, you seemed confused.”

  “I am. I thought you said her name was Katrina.”

  “I so sorry,” Ivana explained. “I no mean to lie.”

  Rosa frowned. “It’s okay, but tell us more about how—”

  “Her name’s Ivana,” Wanda interrupted. “Are we doing hair? Would you like a little makeover?”

  Ivana gripped her hands together. She knew “makeover” from her American magazines. “Oh, yes. Yes, please.”

  Rosa assessed her, head to toe. “Really? You’re sure, uh—Ivana?”

  Her chest seemed to fill with excitement. “Please. I love American style.”

  Rosa pulled her phone out of her pocket. “No word from Cameron yet. I’ll order a pizza.”

  “Pepperoni, none of that all veggie shit,” Wanda said, giving Ivana a wink.

  Ivana understood only part of what Wanda said, but the way she talked, her smacking neon yellow gum, her golden blonde hair—she was so American.

  “You like pizza?” Wanda asked.

  “I think so.”

  Wanda and Rosa exchanged a glance. “You haven’t had pizza?” Wanda exclaimed.

  “Not in America.”

  “You’ve had it in Italy?” Wanda asked.

  Ivana giggled. “No. In Šluknov—in Czech Republic.”

  “Czech pizza?”

  Rosa scrunched her nose.

  “Yuck.”

  “You eat meat?”

  Ivana was in heaven. “I eat everything,” she said.

  The women laughed.

  “Not with that tiny bod, you don’t.”

  Ivana puzzled. “What?”

  “Ah, forget it. Let’s get your hair wet while Rosa gets us pizza.” To Rosa, Wanda said, “Don’t be cheap, Rosa. I want it from Goat Hill.”

  Rosa went back out the front door while Wanda led Ivana to a long chair with a sink at the head. She ran the hot water over Ivana’s head and rubbed her scalp. She couldn’t remember anything feeling so good. Rosa returned while Wanda was combing out Ivana’s hair. She set the pizza down and pulled a bottle out of her bag.

  It was a green wine bottle.

  Rosa screwed off the top. “Wine?”

  The only time Ivana had seen a screw-off wine bottle was when her uncle had come to the house. Her mother never drank wine, and the kind Amira served to the rare customer who asked for it had a cork.

  “It’s Boone’s Strawberry Hill. You’ll love it.”

  Rosa poured her a cup, and Ivana took a sip. It was delicious. Like dessert.

  “See, I knew you’d like it.”

  “What is it?”

  Rosa shrugged and poured herself a cup, too. “It’s like a wine cooler.”

  “Wine cooler?” she repeated.

  “Like wine and fruit, sort of,” Wanda added, clipping Ivana’s hair up with big metal barrettes.

  Rosa opened the pizza box and Wanda groaned. “Not pineapples.”

  “It’s pepperoni,” Rosa countered.

  “Pepperoni with pineapple.”

  “It’s good.”

  Ivana felt her mouth water. What was pineapple?

  Rosa handed her a piece and she took a bite. She tasted salty meat but also something juicy and sweet. She pointed to the yellow piece on the pizza. “What is it?”

  “Pineapple,” Rosa said. “You like it?”

  Ivana nodded while she chewed. “Very good.”

  Rosa smiled at Wanda. “See.”

  Ivana took another drink of the wine cooler. This was heaven—American heaven. Rosa started the music, and she and Wanda sang out loud as they ate and drank. As Wanda worked on her hair, Rosa sat down and painted her fingernails. She moved so fast. They spoke quickly, and Ivana understood little of what they said but it was fun to watch them.

  When they were done, Wanda spun the chair around and Ivana couldn’t believe her own appearance.

  “You don’t like it,” Wanda said.

  Ivana shook her head, tears and a fit of giggles hitting her both at once. Her hair hung above her shoulders now; layers on the sides making it seem thick and healthy. She glowed. “I love it.”

  Wanda grinned. “Really?”

  She spun back and leapt from the chair to throw her arms around Wanda. “Thank you. It is wonderful.” She hugged Rosa, too. Tears rose in her eyes. She let them fall before wiping them off her face. “I am so silly.”

  Rosa was teary, too. “No, you’re not. You’re perfectly fabulous.”

  Wanda stood back. “And your hair does look great.”

  Ivana touched it again, still studying the mirror. “Yes. I think so also.”

  Soon, Wanda’s client would arrive, so Ivana helped clean up the station and prepare the color and foils. They cleaned up the pizza and glasses. Ivana washed them by hand in the small back room, a little giddy from the wine and the night. When she came out, Rosa was holding her phone. “I never heard from Cameron,” she said. “But, my eight o’clock cancelled, so I can drive you home.”

  “It’s alright,” Ivana told her. “I take bus.” She knew the route. She packed up her things, but Rosa insisted on driving her.

  Rosa played the music loud, the two talking only when Rosa needed directions. Ivana stared out at the night, her mind spinning. She was so happy.

  At the apartment, she pulled out the single key Diego had given her and thanked Rosa again for everything. As she turned into the building, she waved goodbye to Rosa who was waiting at the curb until she got inside. Ivana ran her key along the mailboxes, making a long series of clicks almost like music, then paused at the stairway to do a little dance. It was almost like she belonged there.

  Chapter 27

  Cameron shifted on the hospital bed. For hours, she’d been waiting for a doctor to clear her to go home. She was having trouble remembering the conversation with Diego. She needed time alone to try to pull it out of her subconscious. She had nine stitches in her palm and a nasty headache. Her little curtained cube hadn’t been quiet for more than two minutes. Ballestrini, Lau, and Daley had all been in to check on her. Plus, two of the uniforms from the scene, followed by a detective. A crime scene tech had swabbed her hands in case she’d picked up any transfer from Diego. Had they touched?

  “I thought it was a gunshot,” Ricky said again. “You had blood on your shirt and shoulder. Your hand was bleeding and your head—” He exhaled a long breath. “It looked like your head was bleeding.”

  “You said that. Okay,” Cameron snapped.

  Ricky went quiet. His head dropped, hands clasped in his lap.

  “I’m sorry. My head hurts, and I want to go home.”

  “Don’t apologize,” he said.

  Cameron thought back to Diego’s face. “He kept talking about a setup.” She stared at the ceiling, thinking. “Why were there so many patrol cars at the house?”

  “I don’t know. I guess they were worried you were in danger.”

  Cameron sat up, sending a screeching pain through her temples. She grabbed her head.

  Ricky jumped up, but she waved him off. Squeezing her eyes closed, she waited for it to pass.

  “Nate,” she said finally.

  “What?”

  “He said there was something about Nate on the news.”

  “Nate is with Señora Accosta,” Ricky said. “We called her on the way over in the ambulance.”

  “I know,” she answered. “But he said that Nate was missi
ng. Kidnapped.”

  Ricky watched her with a worried expression. “That’s impossible. We know he’s fine.”

  Cameron tried to steady the room. Nate. “Diego had heard that Nate was missing. That’s what he said. Diego came back to the house because he thought Nate was missing.” Her pulse continued to throb inside her skull. “How could he have heard that?”

  Ricky shook his head. “Are you sure that’s what he said?”

  She watched him as he shifted between his two feet. He pulled his phone from his pocket.

  “What did you do?” She stood from the bed. Her knees buckled beneath her.

  Ricky barely caught her. “Cameron, lie down.”

  She gripped the edge of the bed and he helped her back up onto it. As soon as she was safely seated, she shook off his touch. “You told Lavick about Nate.”

  Ricky’s mouth went slack. “No, I didn’t.”

  “Then who? You told someone. Who did you tell? I’m sick of waiting, Ricky. You owe me the truth.”

  Ricky’s jaw went slack. He said nothing.

  “Who did you tell?” she shouted. “Why did you tell?”

  Ricky dropped into the chair.

  “They set him up. They used Nate to set him up.”

  Just then, the thin blue curtain swung back and Lau walked in. “You okay?” he asked.

  “No,” she said to Lau and turned to Ricky. “Who was it?”

  “No one that would have done this,” he said softly.

  “That isn’t for you to decide. Tell me who knows.”

  Ricky hung his head, holding it in his hands. “Okay.”

  “Okay, what?” she demanded.

  “I’ll find out who used Nate. I’ll find out today.”

  He wasn’t going to tell her. “Get out.”

  Ricky didn’t move. “Cameron…”

  Lau crossed to the chair. “She said she wants you to go.”

  Ricky stood slowly and Lau led him away.

  Why wouldn’t he tell her? Who was he protecting that was so important? More important than her and Nate?

  “You okay?” Lau asked her.

  She fought off the tears. “Could you see if there is a doctor around? I need to get the hell out of here.”