by Kelly Irvin
The driver of the cruiser parked at the bottom of the driveway turned on its lights. Nice. Max started his bike and coasted closer. The cruiser didn’t budge. He revved the bike’s engine. The rumble of the Indian Scout Bobber 69-cubic-inch 100-hp V-Twin engine soothed his irritation. He could wait as long as Justin did. It had to be Justin in the cruiser. The man liked to play the power card, which was probably why he became a cop in the first place. He wore his insecurity like a gold badge.
The lights flipped off. The engine died. A soft breeze rippled through the live oaks and mountain laurels in T’s front yard. Mourning doves cooed. Max cut his own engine and waited.
Sure enough. Justin emerged from the car and ambled up the driveway.
“I was beginning to think you’d fallen asleep in there.” Max removed his helmet and laid it on the bike. “You’re not much of a guard dog if you can’t stay awake. I thought Billy said y’all didn’t have the manpower to provide overnight security.”
“We don’t. I’m not.” Justin adjusted his belt as if to bring attention to the S&W on his hip. “We just finished up at the scene. Dillon and I were going over the details one more time before he took off.”
Yes, I know you’re a cop. I know you’re tight with T’s father. “So you’re out of here?”
“Yep. You?”
“Appears that way.”
Justin spread his legs and crossed his arms. “Look, I know we got off to a bad start—”
“We’re fine. I don’t hold a grudge.” Max had forgiven. Forgetting proved to be harder. As he had told Teagan, he was a work in progress. “Let’s move on.”
“I’d like to.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“I shouldn’t have done the background check without T’s permission. I agree. But you never addressed my findings.” The guy apologized out one side of his mouth and proceeded to bang away at Max out the other. “How can you set yourself up as a role model for a bunch of impressionable kids when you’ve done what you’ve done?”
“Defended my country, you mean? Survived hellholes in Afghanistan? Is that what you’re referring to?”
“Thank you for your service. Believe me, I respect it.”
“I appreciate that.”
“It’s what you did when you came back that concerns me.”
“Putting myself through the Dallas School of Theology, you mean?”
“You know what I mean.”
“The Pastor-Parish Relations Committee at the church did the same background check you did. They hired me. I’ve given my testimony before the entire congregation at three consecutive services.” Max had puked in the church’s bathroom twice that day, but Justin didn’t need to know that. “They operate under the assumption that when God pardons sin, they should do the same. When He doesn’t stay angry forever but delights to show mercy, they should do the same. When He has compassion on us, they should do the same.”
“I get it. They’re good Christians. I spend my share of time in church, but I’m also a cop. I see human nature as it is in this messed-up world.” For the first time Justin dropped his gaze to the driveway. “I don’t have brothers and sisters of my own. The O’Rourkes have been family to me since I was a kid. I don’t want to see any of them hurt.”
“Yet you egged Billy and Gracie on when they decided to apply to the academy even though you knew how much Teagan was against it. You became a cop yourself.” Easy, easy. Speak softly. He cares about T. That makes him a good guy. Max reached for a more conciliatory tone. “T comes on like she’s all tough, but she’s really a marshmallow inside. She lived with her dad being a cop all those years after her mom died. She didn’t want more of the same for the rest of her family.”
“These guys can take care of themselves. Trust me on that.”
“I imagine Officer Moreno told her family the same thing. Now her parents are planning her funeral. Teagan still worries and prays every day that something awful doesn’t happen to the people she loves. Unlike most people in this world, she knows that bad things happen to good people. She sees and hears it every day at work.” Max longed to give her the gift of innocence once again, but it wasn’t possible. “The blinders were torn away when her mom died. Teagan can’t ever get that blind, blissful existence—that ignorance—back.”
“So much for having faith in a good God.”
“Faith is believing God is good even when bad things happen. Not just when life is good.”
“Tell her that.”
“I do.”
Even so, the fear that lived inside her—the fear of losing another loved one—kept her hamstrung. She edged out on the high wire of love and commitment, only to turn back whenever the fear overcame her. He’d spent two years getting to know her since she joined his church. Group volunteer projects such as Magdalena House, Haven for Hope, and Habitat for Humanity. Church social activities such as Mission games, Spurs games, barbecues, potlucks, and chili cook-offs. The more time he spent around her, the more she burrowed under his skin. The few times he’d ventured into deeper territory, she shut him down.
“For the record, there’s nothing going on between Teagan and me. You don’t have to worry.” Not on her end, anyway. “She’s made it clear friendship is all she’s looking for.”
“But you’ve made it clear you’re looking for more.”
“I respect her feelings.” Even if he didn’t agree.
“This psychopath wants to play with her feelings. Make her hurt. What if something happens to you? What do you think that will do to her faith?”
The killer would be another reason for her to build walls and hunker down behind them. They needed to grab the guy and put him away. “The killer couldn’t have known I would be around this evening. This was total spur of the moment on my part. Now I know to be on guard.” For himself, but even more so for Teagan. “You want to make me leaving her alone an argument for her spiritual well-being? Do your job and it won’t come to that.”
“Did you tell her you tried to kill yourself?”
The question hit Max with the force of an IED. The metallic taste of adrenaline burned his throat. Fight or flight?
He stood his ground. No one should know about such a private, painful, agonizing time in his life. Getting into a veteran’s records couldn’t be easy. Not impossible for a cop with connections, though. “My medical records are confidential. No one has a right to know about that. Least of all a jerk like you.”
Justin took a step closer to the bike. He flicked a clinging moth from the headlight with one finger. “Is that what this is—the latest method to your madness? Take a curve a little too fast someday and all your problems disappear?”
For Max, picking his poison had been easy. Pain pills for his back. His dad’s favorite smooth whiskey. A cocktail on an unending brilliantly sunny summer day. Unfortunately—no, fortunately—his housemate, another vet with better control over his demons, came home from work and found Max in time.
The suicide attempt was his hit-bottom point, and from there it had been a long, arduous, but steady clawing ascent from the dark, miry pit to the light. Ninety-nine percent of the time, he chose not to look back. That other one percent sent him back to AA, his sponsor, his pastor, and close friends. He had backup.
“Just the opposite. The motorcycle was a graduation gift to myself when I hit five years clean and sober. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“You make it my business when you mess with the O’Rourkes. T is the little sister I never had.” Justin jiggled his keys. The noise, like everything about the man, was irritating. “Everybody deserves a second chance. I get that. I believe it. But when it comes to her, I see trouble written all over you.”
“Lucky for me, it’s not up to you. It’s up to Teagan.” Thank You, God. “She knows everything she needs to know about me, and for some reason she still hangs around me. Get over it or get lost.” Max started his bike and revved the engine.
Childish maybe, but it felt good.
Instead of fencing with Justin, Max should be working with him to keep Teagan safe. “Just do your job. Find this killer before someone else gets hurt.”
“That’s the plan.”
“If there’s anything I can do to help—”
“Stay out of the way.”
Reconciliation took two. “How about I pray?”
“That is something you’re good at.” Justin touched the gun on his hip. “Leave the rest to me.”
Prayer was far more powerful than any gun, but the two together upped the odds of success.
Would they be enough?
8
Rest in peace, Evelyn. You didn’t deserve this.
The cataclysmic events of the previous day on repeat in her head, Teagan lay in bed for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling.
Rest in peace, Kristin Moreno, you did not deserve this.
Evelyn should be eating her oatmeal in preparation for her early-morning gardening. Kristin Moreno should be gearing up for another day on patrol. Instead they were in the medical examiner’s suite. Were their gurneys side by side? Who would go first? Teagan’s throat ached as she fended off the images.
20A. We then open the body and take a look at
21the organs inside the body. We take each organ
22individually and weigh it and examine it. Again, we’re
23looking for any evidence of natural disease or any
24evidence of trauma.
25We also take any fluids from the body:
26urine, blood, vitreous, which is the fluid behind the
27eye, and we test those fluids for any materials, say
28drugs, that may be present. We take all of this
29information and we use it to determine a cause and
30manner of death.
This morning a medical examiner would remove each one of Evelyn’s organs and weigh it. Nausea rocked Teagan. She bolted upright and threw her legs over the side of the bed, ready to dash to the bathroom sink. She gripped the sheets and kneaded the silky material with both hands. Breathe, breathe, breathe.
Tigger whimpered and slid from the bed with a thump. Her nose nudged Teagan’s hand. Teagan managed to loosen her grip on the sheets so she could slide her hands along the dog’s muscular frame. Easy, easy.
Normally her next step would be to run. She needed to blow off steam and she would. The monster behind two murders wanted to take this everyday routine away from her by placing a target on her back. He wanted her to cower in the corner, afraid to leave her own home.
She simply refused.
Standing on shaky legs, she donned her athletic shorts and tank top. As soon as she had her jog, she would head to the courthouse and review her files to see if anyone popped out as a potential perpetrator seeking revenge. The names should jog her memory. Then she could use the date and case number to find the real-time transcript of the case stored on the cloud, if necessary. Mostly, Justin and Siebert needed a name they could run through the databases and pull his arrest records.
The hundreds of cases that came through Teagan’s courtroom tended to meld together. It was better that way. They might haunt other reporters, but when she tucked the manila folder containing the basic essentials of a case into the metal filing cabinet in her office, she made a concerted effort to move on. She always had another case to take its place.
The ability to compartmentalize kept her sane. So did running. Teagan laced up her Reeboks and took Tigger’s leash from its hook by the front door. The dog’s cute butt wiggled in ecstasy. Her beautiful snout turned up in a gleeful smile.
“Yes, we’re going out, sweet pea. I won’t tell the cop squad, if you don’t. We both need a good run after yesterday. Evelyn wouldn’t want us to wallow in our grief, would she?” What would Kristin Moreno have wanted? Did she go to the gym? Did she work out or run?
Evelyn scorned exercise of any kind. She said vacuuming, mopping, and gardening were more productive and just as healthy. Unless a wild animal was chasing her, she found running undignified and a waste of time. Teagan closed her eyes and let her mind run.
14Q. All right. And—and did she also present with
15any items of clothing with her?
16A. Yes.
17Q. And how would you describe those items of
18clothing?
19A. She was clothed in a pink gingham housecoat,
20a white nightgown, and fuzzy pull-on slippers.
21There were some things in the pockets of her housecoat.
22Dog treats, butterscotch candies, clothespins, and a cell
23phone.
24Like I said, the housecoat and nightgown had rips from
25stab marks and being cut open.
Despite her own admonition, tears choked Teagan. Evelyn always had doggie treats for Tigger. The elderly woman loved butterscotch candies. All sweets, in fact. Every room in her neat little house had a candy dish, just in case she had visitors who shared her not-so-secret vice. Teagan grabbed a tissue and wiped her nose. “Allergies are bad today, aren’t they?”
Her expression anxious, Tigger cocked her head. “Woof.”
“You’re so right about that.”
Teagan armed the security system and let Tigger lead the way. The dog’s excited bark alerted her to a guest at the Little Free Library. Guests. Keeping Tigger close to her side, she went to greet Cole Reynolds and his gorgeous chocolate Lab, Huck, whose tail did the cha-cha upon seeing Tigger.
Cole, dressed in basketball shorts and a gray T-shirt, pushed back a black-and-silver Spurs ball cap and smiled. “Still no classics. The Russian novelists are good. Have you ever read Anna Karenina or The Brothers Karamazov?”
The borrowers from her library weren’t interested in the classics. Romances went well, of course, and mysteries. “Can’t say that I have.” This wasn’t their first discussion of tastes in literature. Teagan enjoyed sparring with Cole even if she found him to be a bit of a literary snob. “I have, however, read The Outsiders and The Bell Jar.” In high school. Two years of junior college had not included a literature course.
“If you ever want to broaden your horizons, let me know. I have all of Charles Dickens’s books and everything Mark Twain ever wrote.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Filed in File #13. Cole always looked like someone’s fitness trainer, but he was a speech and communications instructor at San Antonio College. He had cerulean eyes, curly honey-brown hair, a toothy smile, and a nice physique. Hoping he couldn’t read her mind, she smiled. “How’s the renovation coming?”
Cole owned a two-story Victorian partially renovated by flippers who ran out of money. He’d lived in the neighborhood about a year. “The downstairs is done. I haven’t had time to work on the bedrooms, though. Too many papers to grade.”
His Lab’s soft woof was met with delight by Tigger who immediately tugged at her leash, begging to be allowed to play. “Tigger still wants a playdate.”
They always talked about getting the dogs together, but they never did. The story of busy professionals whose lives touched but never really connected.
“I know. Huck too. But my schedule has been crazy.” He stuck the book back on the shelf. “It’s wishful thinking to suggest I’ll have time to read a book for pleasure. What with all the amazing projects my students must turn in between now and the end of the semester.” Sarcasm dusted the words.
Did he know about Evelyn’s murder? If he did, he didn’t show it. The muscles in Teagan’s shoulders knotted. What if the killer was watching them right now? What if he picked off Cole Reynolds the way he did Kristin Moreno?
She tugged at Tigger’s leash and edged away. “I’d better get moving. I’ll be late for work. Good luck with grading papers. I hope you’ll be able to read to your heart’s content soon.”
“Thanks. It just isn’t meant to be. I’m teaching a couple of summer sessions. I complain, but I really enjoy teaching. Taking nervous freshmen and turning them into public speakers is a c
hallenge.” Ignoring her obvious desire to move on, he stepped forward and stroked Tigger’s head. Huck nuzzled his other hand. Double-dog duty. “I like coming home to this neighborhood too. I’m glad I decided to buy here. It was love at first sight.”
A reader and dog lover with a yen for an old house. At first blush the perfect neighbor. Maybe even a perfect man. If he were older, she would introduce Julie to him. His eyebrows lifted. He probably expected a response. Teagan studied his house across the street over his shoulder. “Mine was love at first sight too. But it wasn’t a flip. My family and friends were my construction team. I paid them in pizza and blueberry cobbler.” Sweat equity turned a crumbling two-bedroom two-bathroom semi-shack into a cozy home with just the right touch of rustic. It was still a work in progress, but it was home. “They couldn’t see what I saw, but they hung in there with me, and now I can’t get rid of them!”
Not that she wanted to get rid of any of them. The Saturday night barbecues were epic.
“It’s a beauty. I really like the blue color you chose. It’s very sunny.” He cocked his head. “All the flowers help too. If I ever get around to landscaping, I know who to ask for tips. I’m not much of a gardener.”
The guy liked her house, her dog, and her flowers. Good friend material. Not on Max’s level but decent. “We really should take the dogs for that run we’re always talking about.”
“It’s a date.” He grinned and hunched his shoulders in mock embarrassment. “Sorry. Slip of the lip. A playdate for the hounds. Not us.”
With a determined smile, Teagan took off running. The smile lasted until she glanced toward Evelyn’s tidy gray home with white trim and a mass of pink roses in front.
Who would water and prune them now?
Teagan’s normal easy lope evaporated into a frenzied pace that had Tigger straining to keep up. Six or seven miles usually satisfied Teagan’s urge to punish herself. Today she hit her max at eight after a longer-than-usual foray through the King William District and back. Usually imagining the founders of that historic neighborhood and what their lives were like in early San Antonio filled her thoughts as she ran. Not today. She slowed to a stagger a block from her house. Tigger raised her head and barked for more.