Daina blinked twice, came back into herself. She turned her head away. She sighed very deeply.
“Because,” she said heavily, as if the very words that she was about to speak were weighing her down, “he’s the husband of a woman I was involved with three years ago.”
Emma remained outwardly impassive and responded in her usual fashion. “Oh,” she said.
Daina gave a light snort, sounding more bemused than anything. “Yeah. ‘Oh,’” she muttered. In the same heavily weighted manner, she added, “I didn’t know she was married. I wouldn’t have gone there if I had.”
Emma glanced at her. “I’m not judging you, Daina,” she stated, very gently.
Daina blinked, then dropped her gaze. “Maybe I’m judging myself.”
“You shouldn’t. You didn’t know.”
Daina was silent, obviously thinking that over. “You know, it’s funny,” she finally said, “I haven’t even thought of it, of her, in all this time. We were together maybe two months, from May to July. When she told me she was married, I ended it. Just like that. I left town two weeks later. And that was it. I never saw her again, I never spoke to her again. I never thought of her again. But now I’m on this…major guilt trip.” She shrugged and shook her head as if her reaction puzzled her.
“The fact that her husband is trying to kill you probably has a lot to do with that,” Emma said mildly, though not unkindly.
Daina gave her a brief, humorless smile. “Yeah, I guess.”
And though Emma already knew the answer to her next question, still she asked, gently, “She fell in love with you, didn’t she?”
Daina’s “Yeah” was flat, unemotional. She quickly followed it up with a derisive laugh. “So she said.”
Emma arched an eyebrow. “You didn’t believe her?” She didn’t need to ask if Daina’s feelings had been reciprocal.
“It didn’t matter. That sounds harsh, I guess, but...she told me she was in love with me after she told me she was married. The one basically canceled the other out.”
Emma nodded, seeing her point. She mulled over what she’d been told so far, then glanced over. “You said it’s been, what, three years since you had this affair?”
“Well, I wouldn’t…call it an affair.”
They had arrived at the end of suburbia and the beginning of the city proper. Pulling up at a stop sign, Emma looked at Daina with a kind expression. “I’m not going to argue semantics, honey. I’m just trying to do the math.”
Daina visibly clamped down on her emotions. “Yes, it’s been three years.”
Waiting her turn to proceed through the intersection, Emma kept an eye on approaching traffic as she asked, “So why did it take him so long to finally come after you?”
“Michaels said that she’d only just told him three weeks ago. She told me she wouldn’t ever tell him. I remember I made a point of asking, because this is exactly what I was hoping to avoid. But I guess three years is a long time for some people to keep something like that a secret.”
“So why tell him now? Why, after all this time? Just because you were due to show up in town?”
“Apparently she was trying to save their marriage.”
“Excuse me?” Emma shot Daina a look of disbelief, blowing a perfect opportunity to cross the intersection. “Wouldn’t confessing to an affair have the opposite effect?”
Daina looked pained, perhaps at Emma’s insistence on using the word affair. “Apparently,” she supplied with exaggerated care, “they’d been having problems for a while. He said she was trying to come clean with him.”
“I’m guessing that didn’t go over so well.”
Seeing another break in traffic, Emma took advantage of it. She tossed another glance Daina’s way. “So, this…what’s her name?”
“Cathy. Cathy Marks.”
“This Cathy…she’s been carrying a torch for you all this time, is that it?”
“What? What makes you say that?”
Emma briefly pondered her reasons. “Why would she finally tell him about the two of you right before you’re due to show up here? Why now? Was she trying to save her marriage or end it? Maybe she told him just to force the issue, so she could decide one way or the other how to proceed. Or maybe—” Emma suddenly bit down on her words. The thought that had occurred to her was disturbing, almost too disturbing to give voice to.
“What?” Daina asked.
Emma didn’t reply, but she was frowning deeply, troubled in the extreme.
“What?” Daina’s voice had sharpened.
“Maybe,” Emma continued slowly, cautioning herself to speak with delicacy, “this is the outcome she was hoping for.”
“Excuse me?”
“Maybe this is as much her vendetta as it is his.” She glanced over quickly, once, as she added carefully, “Am I right in assuming you, uh, broke her heart?”
Daina’s face clouded up in consternation and confusion. “Well…I guess, yeah, but—Christ, that was three years ago! There’s no way—”
“Daina, don’t ever think people will behave in the way you expect them to. It doesn’t work that way. People don’t work that way. She may not have been that forgiving.”
Daina said nothing in response, but Emma knew her mind was working. She allowed the silence to stretch for a few moments before breaking in with, “Can I…ask another question?”
“Sure.”
“The wife. Where is she in all of this?”
“It’s funny you should ask that.” Daina sounded a little snide. “She left. Once this guy had gotten the full story from her about us, he says he flipped, became extremely jealous, started making threats…which caused her to freak on him, and she just…took off.”
“That’s it? She just…took off?”
“Yeah,” Daina said rather testily. “That kinda pisses on your parade, doesn’t it?”
“So where did she go?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Daina shrug. “He doesn’t know. Neither does your sergeant or your detectives. They can’t find her. She has a sister in B.C. somewhere, but she hasn’t turned up there. No one knows where she is.”
“Is she a suspect?”
Daina took a deep breath and exhaled through her mouth. “According to Michaels, and I quote, ‘In light of her husband’s confession, Cathy Marks may not be considered culpable for what has transpired. She will, however, continue to be viewed as an accessory, until further evidence presents itself to suggest otherwise.’ Unquote.”
Emma looked over at her, impressed. “You have good recollection skills.”
“This is not just another pretty face,” Daina replied, her expression severe, then gave her a little smirk.
Emma grinned back. As she maneuvered her way through traffic she said thoughtfully, “So she’s just disappeared then, right?”
“Right.”
“And this doesn’t strike you as strange?”
“No, but you’re starting to,” Daina fired back. “Maybe she’s squeamish, maybe the thought of him killing me didn’t sit that well with her, I don’t know; how the hell do I know what’s strange and what isn’t? If she’s carrying a torch for me maybe it makes sense for her to take off, don’t you think?”
“Actually, no, I don’t,” Emma replied mildly. “If she’s still into you, it would make sense if she hung around to prevent anything from happening to you by warning you, or the police, or someone. But she hasn’t done that.” She favored Daina with a sidelong glance. “She’s just…disappeared. Why? Where did she go?”
“Is it really that important, Emma? I mean, Christ, I just want this over with. What difference does it make where she went, as long as she’s not around here?”
Emma tried to think of a tactful way to say what was on her mind. “Well, what if—and this is just a thought, okay?—but what if he’s responsible for her…absence?”
“Oh, Jesus, Emma.” Daina looked and sounded frankly disbelieving. “Are you serious?”
&
nbsp; Emma opened her mouth to say “dead serious,” decided that was probably a poor choice of words, and instead just said, “Yes, I am.”
“Okay, fine, so…what? What if he is? He’s been arrested, she’s nowhere to be found. What does this have to do with me? You’re creeping me out here. I don’t want to think about this shit, Emma. I just want this to be over with. I don’t want to think about some crazy chick running around carrying a torch for me, and her crazier husband who wants to kill me and maybe killed her and God knows what the hell else. Oh, and let’s not forget the fact that your life was threatened too.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Emma said quietly.
“Well, neither have I, okay? I haven’t forgotten any of it, but I want to, dammit. I don’t want to sit here and speculate and wonder and worry. And you are just speculating, right?”
“As I’ve said.”
“Are you going to mention any of this to Michaels?”
“If he hasn’t already thought of it.”
“Good. Throw it in his lap. Don’t throw it in mine. As far as I’m concerned, this thing is over. Kaput. Tout fini. Done like dinner. Over and out. Roger, dodger.”
Emma looked over at her with raised eyebrows. Daina burst out laughing. Emma was glad to hear it.
“See? You’ve made me crazy. Nice.” Daina laughed a little more.
“I’m sorry.” Emma shrugged. “And who knows? She might still show up. Torch and all.” She said this completely straight-faced as they came to a stop at a red light.
Daina narrowed her eyes as Emma looked over at her. Daina’s expression of mock disgust almost made her grin. She held it back.
“You’re bad. I don’t even know why I talk to you.”
“Well, when you figure that out, you’ll let me know, won’t you?” Emma tipped her a teasing wink.
Daina shook her head, in a long-suffering manner. “Just drive.”
Grinning, Emma did as she was told.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“Oh, great,” Daina muttered. They had just rounded the curve of the crescent her parents lived on.
Emma pulled up to the curb and they surveyed the scene half a block away. There were four reporters, along with two cameramen and two photographers. Daina was to be treated to both newspaper and television coverage, it seemed. Lovely.
“I’d like to know how the bastards knew I was coming here.”
“Your parents?” Emma suggested.
“No, not a chance.” While her parents were staunch supporters of her musical career, they detested the media attention that occasionally went along with it. They would never have alerted the press to their daughter’s homecoming. “Although,” she added in afterthought, “it’s strange they didn’t call to warn me about this.”
Emma shifted and reached into her pocket. Withdrawing her cell phone, she quickly glanced at the screen. She pressed a button and the phone beeped. Raising her eyes to Daina, she flashed her a guilty smile.
“Oops,” she said, holding the phone out as if in offering. “I must have turned it off earlier without even realizing it.”
“Ah.” Daina took the phone from her. Two missed calls, one from her parents. There was no accompanying voice mail.
“Well, at least they tried,” she said, handing the phone back.
“Sorry.”
Daina waved the apology away. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like we could have avoided this.”
Holding the cell phone slightly aloft, Emma said, “This is probably how they found out, by the way.”
“What do you mean?”
“Cell phone scanners. They scan the frequencies used by cell phones.”
“Those things exist?”
Emma nodded.
“Jesus. No wonder Michaels was trying to cut our conversation short. Here I thought he was just being a jerk.”
“He knew it might not be secure.”
Daina shook her head, bemused, and then jerked her thumb toward the cell. “There’s another call on there, by the way.”
“Probably him,” Emma said, as she returned the phone to her pocket.
“Persistent little bugger, isn’t he?”
“He’s not all that bad,” was Emma’s quiet response.
“If you say so. But I’m certainly not his biggest fan at the moment.” She wasn’t ready to forgive the sergeant for withholding information. “Any suggestions on how to deal with this situation?”
“Well, I’d offer my professional services but as you can see, I’m hardly dressed for the occasion.” Emma made a slight hand gesture to indicate her casual attire.
“Too bad. Seeing you in uniform would be a fine visual treat.”
Emma gave a light laugh, a slight shake of her head. “What is it with lesbians and women in uniform? Besides,” and here her tone and expression softened, “you’ve already seen me in uniform.”
“What?” Daina frowned. “No, I haven’t.”
“Yes, you have.”
Daina’s frown deepened. “No, I haven’t, Emma,” she stated firmly. “I’m pretty sure that’s something I would remember.”
Emma’s patient smile briefly quirked up in amusement, then faded as she said gently, “Backstage. The night of the concert. You were just about to go on.”
Daina’s memory of that night was practically nonexistent. Still, she cast her mind back to the point in time Emma was referring to. For several moments, there was nothing. And then…
“Oh my God,” she breathed, locking eyes with the woman seated next to her. “That was you.”
“That was me,” Emma confirmed softly.
Daina’s mouth had fallen open, as the image that flooded her mind gained cohesiveness, that of the startlingly good-looking female cop standing just beyond her, staring, as she had turned, strapping on her guitar.
“You smiled at me,” Emma said, in that same, soft voice.
Daina refocused on her. “Of course I smiled at you. I couldn’t get over how fucking hot you were.”
Emma blushed. Daina was touched by her unexpected reaction. She studied her for a few moments, appraisingly, wondering at the complexities of this woman who affected her like no other ever had.
“And then you ran away,” she said with a puzzled frown.
“I didn’t run away,” Emma immediately protested, causing Daina to smile ever so slightly. “I may have left in a hurry, but—”
“You ran away.” Daina’s tone brooked no argument.
Emma grudgingly admitted, “Okay, I ran away. But I was supposed to be working, not gawking.”
“You weren’t gawking,” Daina responded charitably.
“Oh, no, I was gawking. You know damn well I was gawking.”
Daina grinned. “Okay, yeah, you were. But it was sweet.”
“And that’s so the effect I was striving for.”
Again, Daina eyed her appraisingly.
Emma lifted her brows in an inquisitive manner. “What?” she asked.
“Nothing. You’re beautiful,” Daina said simply.
Emma blushed once more, lowering her eyes. Daina marveled that anyone as self-confident, as self-assured as Emma, could be thrown so completely by a compliment. Keeping her tone light, she said, “So, do you want to stay in the car while I deal with these clowns, or do you want to join me on the front page of tomorrow’s news?”
“If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll stay in the car.” And then she assumed a thoughtful look and added, “Although, this would be a perfect opportunity for me to tell them about your coffee-making skills.”
Daina fixed her with her best facsimile of a dirty look. Before she could say a word, though, Emma held up a hand to stop her.
“I know,” she said, her mouth twitching with suppressed good humor. “Just drive.”
***
Daina saw her parents framed in the big bay window of the living room, looking out anxiously. She glanced at Emma as the SUV came to a stop halfway up the length of the driveway.
“I won’t be long,” she assured her.
“I’ll be here,” Emma told her with a single nod.
Daina spared a moment to wave reassuringly to her parents, who waved in return, now all smiles. She then directed her attention to the small group converging on her. Most of their questions were basic run-of-the-mill stuff, dealing with her recovery and the interrupted tour. No one seemed privy to the fact that there was more to it than that, which was fine with her. If they thought she’d been in the hospital all this time, she wasn’t about to indicate otherwise. She kept her answers brief, succinct, and congratulated herself for her poise and politeness.
Then a woman from the group spoke up, saying, “Ms. Buchanan, it’s come to this reporter’s attention that there’s been an arrest made in relation to the bombing the night of your concert. Also, that the individual arrested is, in fact, the husband of a woman you were involved with a few years ago. Can you confirm this?”
Surprised and annoyed, and noting the ripple of interest that went through the rest of the group at these words, Daina fixed her gaze on the woman. She was just removing a pair of mirror-lens sunglasses, stepping out from behind another reporter. Daina recognized her immediately: Tamara Blake, from the Winnipeg Sun, whose blonde, girl-next-door good looks masked a nasty personality. She’d had more than a few encounters with the woman, both professionally and personally.
Deeply closeted, Tamara Blake often surreptitiously visited the gay bars; she’d slip in while it was extremely busy, and slip out sometimes alone, sometimes not. Daina had seen her on more than one occasion in just such a setting, leaning almost too casually against the bar, eyes scanning the patrons intently, looking just a little too hungry. While Daina had lived in Winnipeg, Tamara had covered a couple of her performances. Her reviews had been tepid, unimpressed. She had also, without fail, propositioned her any time they’d both been in the bars and been summarily refused each and every time. She’d always taken the rebuffs in good humor, as if they were temporary, subject to change. But Daina had never once said yes, not only because Tamara was a fairly disagreeable piece of work, though that wasn’t always a major consideration if a night of rough-and-tumble sex was all one was after, but mainly, because Tamara was a reporter. Daina didn’t believe in sleeping with the press.
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