A Good Day for Chardonnay

by Darynda Jones

  However, neither of her friends were in. The girl behind the counter said they had to run to one of their Santa Fe stores that morning, but they’d be back soon. She and Rojas ordered, then sat at a bistro table near the front window.

  He pushed a few buttons on his phone and handed it to her.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “The guys casing us.”

  She looked up in surprise. “You got pictures of them already?”

  “I did. Do you recognize any of them?”

  She scrolled through the shots, about ten each of three different men. Rojas was right. They were literally just standing around. Window-shopping or reading a paper or sipping tea on the veranda of the Del Sol Diner. “How did you already get pictures of them?”

  “You were busy with the DA. He really seems to like you.”

  “Yeah,” she said with a soft chuckle. “He’s a peach. I don’t recognize any of them. Do you?”

  “Nah. Sorry, boss.”

  She noticed a couple had visible tattoos. “What about their ink?”

  “That one,” he said, scrolling back until he came to the stocky one with the tattoo of a scorpion on his hand, “is La Cosa Nostra.”

  She gaped at him. “Really?”

  He laughed. “No.”

  “Rojas,” she said, admonishing him while fighting to keep a straight face.

  “But that’s what’s weird. None of their ink is local. A couple of their tattoos are exactly the same, so they’re affiliated. I guarantee it. Just not with anyone around here.”

  “Around here as in Del Sol?”

  “Around here as in the whole of New Mexico. If I had to guess, I’d say they’re East Coast.”

  “Wonderful.” Because that was what she needed. A crime war on her turf. His teasing about La Cosa Nostra may have not been that far off the mark. “Which ones have been to prison?”

  He pointed out two of the three. The stocky one with the scorpion tattoo and a taller one wearing a black leather jacket from the seventies.

  “The third one,” he said, scrolling to an older gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair and a spray tan if Sun ever saw one. “I’m just not sure about him. If he did do time, he did it well. Probably a higher-up of some kind. I can run facial recognition when we get back, but I doubt we’ll get a hit. We need someone with access to a federal database.”

  “I can ask my contact in the FBI.” She looked out and studied the two men she could see from her vantage. “How do you know all of this? What’s the giveaway?”

  “It’s in the eyes. The way they move. Their posture.” He looked at her. “You ever notice how men in prison either hunch or stand ramrod straight with their chests puffed out?”

  She thought back and nodded. “I do actually. It always seems to be one or the other.”

  “And therein lies the tell. The differences in the pecking order.”

  “What about the ones that do neither?” she asked, thinking of Wynn Ravinder. He didn’t seem to feel the need to put on a show. As though he were just as relaxed in prison as Sun was at the spa.

  A slow, calculating smile spread across Rojas’s face. “Those are the ones with true power. Those are the ones to watch out for.”

  A wave of goose bumps raced over her skin. Maybe she was playing with fire by inviting Wynn back into the state, but she wanted to know everything. Especially the son of a bitch who violated her. What she would do with that information, she didn’t know, but at least she would have it.

  She looked out the window. “What about anyone else in town? Have you noticed—”

  “Him.”

  She blinked. “That was fast. Who?”

  Rojas pointed to a gray-haired gentleman walking toward the coffee shop. A man who just happened to be her father, Cyrus Freyr.

  Sun propped her elbows on the table and faced him. “Have you been messing with me this whole time?”

  “No way, boss. Why?”

  “That man has never even spent a day in jail, much less prison.”

  He eyed the guy again. “Sorry, boss. That man has spent time inside, but from the looks of him, it was maybe a military prison? Or something similar?”

  She snorted, then rethought her doubt and turned back to study the man in question. Had he been in jail and never told her?

  Her father got a text, turned, and headed back to his SUV down the street.

  Sun shook it off and asked, “Can you send those pics to me?”

  “Already did. I also set Zee on surveillance until I could brief you. I’ll take over in a few.” He took a sip of his pink lemonade spritzer topped with whipped cream and a maraschino cherry, then pointed. A plainclothes Zee stood browsing the books the Book Nook employees were just now moving onto the sidewalk, her tall, lithe form doing anything but blending in. The girl was stunning, and one of the men they were watching had taken note. A fact that could play in their favor.

  She looked back at Rojas’s fruity drink. “It takes a confident man to order a drink like that.”

  He tilted his head and smiled in appreciation. “Thank you, boss.”

  She laughed and decided to take a second for an impromptu check-in. “Got any questions for me?”

  “I have two, if you’re asking.”

  She took another draw on her pinon coffee sweetened with hazelnut. “I’m asking,” she said, echoing the conversation they’d had a couple of days before.

  “First, why do you call the yellow fire truck Big Red?”

  A surprised giggle bubbled out of her. She’d expected something a little more … official, but that worked. “When the town ordered Big Red, they threw a naming party. They were really excited. They chose the name before she was delivered, and while they’d ordered a red hook-and-ladder, she showed up yellow. Unfortunately, they’d already ordered a nameplate for her, so Big Red she is.”

  “This town is so weird.”

  She couldn’t argue with that kind of solid, fact-based logic. “And second?”

  He waited as though contemplating if he should ask. “I know it’s none of my business, boss, and please don’t feel obligated to answer, but what happened to you?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, suddenly self-conscious. “It was only a little box of wine and Quincy drank half of it.”

  When he fixed a patient smile on her, she caved.

  Poetry Rojas was direct, she’d give him that. She liked it. “You want the long version or the CliffsNotes?”

  “Whatever you’re comfortable with?”

  Great answer. She told him what happened to her when she was seventeen. How she was abducted and held for five days while the kidnapper demanded every penny her father had, only for her to end up dropped off at an emergency room in Santa Fe with a severe concussion and covered in blood, most of it her rescuer’s.

  Sure, she glossed over a few of the sticky points, but her story was out in the world anyway thanks to a few vindictive high school students. One only had to guess the sordid details, because nine months later, a fiery ginger with the lung capacity of a yeti clawed her way out of Sun’s nether region and her world had never been the same.

  She also skipped over the amnesia part. She only remembered bits and pieces of her ordeal and was missing almost an entire month beforehand.

  “Now can I ask you a question?”

  Rojas sat contemplating her story. He swam back to her and said, “Of course.”

  “Why did your mom name you Poetry? And how often were you beat up because of it?” she teased. “I love it. Don’t get me wrong, but it’s very unusual. I would think even more so for a boy.”

  He smiled as he thought back. “I don’t think she did, in all honesty. She never admitted this, but I think she was going to name me Porter after a jazz musician she was in love with, but the woman entering the information at the hospital couldn’t read my mom’s writing and typed Poetry into the computer.”

  “Poetry fits you,” she said. “At least she got your twin broth
er’s name right. Ramses?”

  He shook his head. “His name was supposed to be Ransom.”

  “Wow. Your mom was clearly very creative. Another jazz singer?”

  “Blues.” A sadness came over him. His parents had died when he and his brother were kids.

  “Well, either your mother had horrible handwriting or that nurse needed glasses.”

  He looked out the window toward Zee for the fiftieth time in five minutes.

  “I frown on office romances,” she said to him, “but not for long. It causes wrinkles. No one needs to see that.”

  “What, Zee?” he asked with a scoff. “Never. She’s so far out of my league it’s like we’re not even playing the same sport.”

  “Not true.”

  “No, for sure. It’s like she’s an Olympic skier and I play stickball with miniature horses.”

  “Is that a real thing?”

  “I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  She disagreed. Rojas was a little younger than Zee, but only by a couple of years. He was incredibly intelligent, charming, and quite the looker. Zee could definitely do worse.

  Then again, so could he. Zee was a goddess among mortals.

  Sun wanted to ask him more about how he pulled it off. How he managed to do three years in the state pen in his brother’s stead without being found out, but a nuisance she was going to have to deal with soon walked into the coffee shop.

  “Sunshine,” Carver said, strolling up to their table, his coveralls folded down to reveal a T-shirt underneath.

  “Hey, Carver. What are you doing here?”

  In the four months Sun had been back in Del Sol, she never once remembered seeing Carver Zuckerman. She could’ve just not noticed him, but for him to suddenly be there every time she turned around? Either he was stalking her or … Holy crap. She blinked up at him. He was stalking her. Even more reason to kill her parents.

  “Just saw you come in here. Thought I’d come say hey.”

  “Oh. Well, hey back.”

  “Of course,” he said, growing serious. “I meant what I said. We have a lot in common. I’m here if you need a shoulder.”

  What the hell did he think she went through on a daily basis that she needed a man’s shoulder to cry on? Besides, she had Quincy for that.

  “I know you have a big case,” he continued. “How’s that going?”

  “I can’t really discuss it, Carver.”

  “Right.” He shook his head. “But I’m here if you need me. I see a lot more in this town than most.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  “Well, I won’t keep you.” He stepped closer. “I’d love to see you again, though.”

  Was he really going to do this to her here? In front of her deputy?

  “I really don’t have time for a social life right now, but if that ever changes…”

  “That’s what your mom said. She’s a looker, eh?” He elbowed Rojas’s shoulder.

  She rubbed her fingertips over her forehead, her hangover headache coming back with a vengeance.

  Rojas watched him leave, and if looks could kill …

  “What’s up? Don’t tell me Carver has been to prison?”

  “No. He’s too slick.”

  “Slick? Carver?”

  “He’s a sociopath, boss. Be careful.”

  She knew Rojas would be invaluable, but damn. “He lacks some social intelligence, but—”

  “He’s a sociopath,” he repeated.

  “Okay, then.”

  “And he gives me the creeps.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe he has nothing else to give, Rojas. Did you ever think of that? No. You only think of yourself.”

  “Just be careful,” he said with nary a hint of a grin. And she’d tried hard.

  She took another sip, contemplating everything she’d learned in the last half hour. Three things, to be precise. Rojas could look manly even with a pink drink in his hands. Carver was very likely stalking her. And the men who were casing the town, so to speak, were waiting for the sheriff’s department to make a move. She just didn’t know why. Or in which direction.

  Oh, and lest she forget, her father had possibly been to prison. And her parents never told her.

  “I should probably relieve Zee,” he said. “They’re only going to buy into her book browsing for so long before they catch on.”

  “You’ve clearly never gone to a bookstore with my mother.”

  He chuckled. “No, I haven’t.”

  “If you do, take snacks.” They stood to leave. “I’m going take a look at that surveillance footage and see if we can’t get a ping on Levi Ravinder’s phone.”

  Though, by that point, Sun had half a mind to kill the guy. If he wasn’t already dead and lying in a ditch somewhere.

  * * *

  “But you told me to dress breaky-and-entery.” Sybil glanced down. “Those were your exact words.”

  Auri studied Sybil’s attire. Black turtleneck. Black yoga pants. Black beanie covering the top of her auburn head with two long braids hanging down to her elbows. She even had black sneakers on. The girl never wore sneakers.

  Auri clamped her mouth shut to keep from giggling at her adorable accomplice. “Yes, but I meant understated breaky-and-entery. Unassuming. You’re a walking advertisement.”

  Sybil dropped her head in shame. “I’m sorry. I’m so bad at breaking and entering.”

  That time Auri did giggle. “There are worse things to be bad at. Believe me.”

  After leaning closer, Sybil asked, “When are we doing this?”

  Auri scanned the halls for the thousandth time, which were starting to empty as the students of Del Sol High filed into their respective classrooms. They were heading into second period, and Cruz was still a no-show. Maybe he’d changed his mind. Maybe he’d really wanted her to get naked with him.

  The thought alone caused a warmth to blush across her face. Was he disappointed? The fact that she’d wanted to hold on to her V-card had never seemed to bother him before. He’d never pressured her. Not once.

  Maybe it was the whole breaking and entering thing. That would put off anyone.

  The bell was about to ring. They’d officially missed their opportunity to skip second. Just as she and Sybil started into class, they heard the metal doors at the back end of the school open.

  They turned. Cruz stood holding the door open, waving them over as he kept watch.

  Auri’s heart soared. He hadn’t abandoned her.

  The two of them hurried toward him. He held it open as they ducked under his arm, then eased it closed until a click that sounded like a thunder strike echoed around them. Auri cringed, hoping the sound didn’t get anyone’s attention.

  “Where have you been?” she whispered.

  He led them around the back of the main building and into a parking lot only a few faculty members used.

  “Sorry. I woke up late.”

  The girls giggled. “Your dad didn’t wake you?” Auri asked.

  “No, he had to leave early.”

  They stopped at a jaw-dropping red Ford Raptor.

  “You’re driving your dad’s truck?” Auri asked, surprised.

  “Yeah. He let me since I was running so late.”

  “Then how did he leave early?”

  He frowned in thought, then said, “Motorcycle.”

  “That’s a nice truck,” Sybil said, gazing in awe at the massive beast.

  Auri agreed. “Can he be my dad, too?” she asked him.

  “That would make us siblings, so, no.”

  The implications of his statement sent a flutter to Auri’s stomach.

  He lifted a sinewy arm and opened the passenger’s door for them. They climbed—literally as the truck sat a thousand feet off the ground—into the cab. When Cruz got into the driver’s seat, the truck fitting him like an Italian glove, he made the climb look effortless.

  “I think I’m ready to tackle Mount Everest now,” Auri said, teasing him.

  He
grinned at her and started the engine.

  “You only have your permit,” she said as the beast roared to life. “I can’t believe he let you take his truck.”

  He grinned again, only this time the charm had fled and another emotion had taken its place. Apprehension? Sadness perhaps? “That’s why I have this.” He took a cap off the dash and pull it low over his brow.

  Auri wanted to ask him about the emotion that flashed across his face, but not with an audience. That was a conversation best saved for another time. The display, however, was about the thirtieth she’d sensed in as many days. Last night, as Auri laid in bed dreaming about Cruz, she thought back to when it all started. He and his father had gone on a fishing trip near Chama in northern New Mexico for spring break. She didn’t see him for over a week, and when she did, he seemed distracted.

  Maybe he met another girl while on break. Maybe he didn’t know how to tell her. Sure, he said he was kind of in love with her, but … no buts. She was a big girl. She could take it. What she couldn’t take was being strung along, and she’d tell him that as soon as they were alone.

  He put the truck into drive and they headed out of the lot before someone caught them skipping.

  Both locals and tourists were already out and about, grabbing coffee and shopping with the resident artists. He pointed as they drove past the sheriff’s station. Auri ducked her head. Sybil took a different approach. She undid her seatbelt and nose-dived for the floorboard, her gaze darting about like a cornered animal.

  Auri fought yet another giggle, but the events of the next few seconds would teach her not to be so quick to judge. She looked past Cruz just in time to see her mother exiting Caffeine-Wah. The woman in full sheriff regalia stopped and watched as the huge truck drove by.

  Cruz shrank back and lifted his shoulder to hide as much of his face as he could, but the movement brought Auri directly into her mother’s line of sight. Their gazes locked for a split second before Auri dove for cover. Straight into Cruz’s lap.

  With her face firmly in Cruz’s crotch, Auri asked, “Did she see me?”