Hope to Lie (DeSantos Book 2)

by A. R. Case

  The homes here were dark. They looked like lovely vacation houses with little marinas on the channel, a great place to stay if you had money. Yay. It was the beginnings of what felt like a rough winter. No one took vacations to the beach in winter.

  Wet ass or not, staying in one place wasn’t an option at this point. She began hiking northward along the side of the road. Hopefully, she’d find a cross-street she recognized and a bus stop. The mud and slush seeped into her combat boots, making them rub against her numb feet.

  About five slippery minutes up the road, Alexis was making better time on a patch of asphalt which made up the flared apron of a private driveway. It had been plowed and salted recently, unlike most of the other houses. Headlights were coming from the north, so she paused.

  She began waving her hands to catch the driver’s attention. She needed to get to shelter. A car, any car, was just that. And it had the added bonus of being able to take her somewhere warm. Her bag was probably soaked, along with the clothes inside. She hoped her mic and kit were safe in their supposedly waterproof containers. If she got to a motel, she could warm up in the shower, dry out her clothes on the heater, and check for damage.

  The car slowed down and Alexis waved faster.

  It signaled to turn and began pulling into the driveway, coming directly toward her.

  She grabbed her bag, and for the second time that night, scrambled into the wet grass so she wouldn’t get run over.

  Chapter 2 — Blue

  Chris slammed on the brakes. The anti-lock system pulsed frantically. Some idiot was standing in the middle of his rental’s driveway. He didn’t see them until it was almost too late. The headlights illuminated a girl, scrambling to get out of the way. He hoped she wasn’t planning on walking far in this weather. She’d freeze or get hit by a car, like what had almost happened.

  He put his Mercedes in park and hopped out.

  The woman was dressed in black from head to toe, was carrying a huge duffel bag, and had long, blue hair. It was plastered against her head and the color was so intense that even in the dark, and soaking wet, he could tell it was blue. “You okay?”

  “You almost killed me!”

  “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

  “I was waving my arms.”

  Chris shrugged. “It’s shit for visibility, and you’re in black.”

  She looked down, scanning her wet clothes. The black pants were skintight and strategically torn in places. Lace tights peeked out from under the holes. Her black leather-looking coat looked soaked. It hung flat, proving to Chris it wasn’t real leather but the fake shit that sold for a third of the price. It also wasn’t as warm as the real thing. She was wearing black fingerless gloves and black combat boots. Everything looked shiny and wet, even her face, which was the one pale, bright spot in her entire person. The makeup she’d been wearing streaked down her face like some goth rock princess shit. Her skin though was white like a December moon.

  “Well, drive fucking slower then.” She picked up her bag, took two steps down the road, and then stopped. Her shoulders fell. “Sorry. I’ve had a bad night.” She sighed and turned, resting the bag at her feet. “Are you going farther down the road?”

  He tried to catch up to the shock of her. She was tiny. Her bag was almost as big as her. The vehemence in her tone was as strong as she must be in order to cart that thing around, but when she apologized, her voice turned musical. “Uh, no.”

  She stared at him. After a long pause, she picked up her bag again and swung it to get her momentum going. “Right. See ya. Thanks for not killing me.”

  “Wait, where are you going?”

  “Atlantic City, I suppose. Or at least farther that way until I find a place to crash.”

  She hadn’t turned around to answer him.

  An icy wind picked up snow and blew it directly into Chris’s face. “I’ve got a rental right here.” He pointed at the house currently illuminated in his headlights.

  She did turn this time. Her figure was a dark silhouette in the night now that she had escaped the range of his headlights. “What do you mean?” Her tone was very suspicious.

  Chris coughed the snow out of his throat. “I mean, you could come in, get dry, and call someone.”

  “Oh.” She hesitated, then she finally answered. “That’s really nice of you.”

  “Well, it beats reading about your dead body getting found tomorrow in some ditch somewhere. I’m not a serial killer, I promise.” He made an ‘X’ over his heart, then crossed his fingers.

  “Right.” She trudged back into the glow of his headlights. “You know, if you were, you have a nice car. Who knows? Maybe I’m the fucking crazy one and I lurk in the dark to steal Mercedes-ez or whatever the plural of it is.”

  She was barely five-foot-two and probably the proverbial ninety pounds as wet as she was. But she carried a bag fit for a Marine, swore like one, and joked about serial killers. She was so not his type. Yet it didn’t stop a shiver from snaking down his back and right up into his balls. He shuffled to hide his growing erection. “Ha-ha, funny. I’m Chris. Let me get the car parked. Meet me on the step.” He pointed to the entrance located in the apex of a perfect circular drive. The house was bigger than he thought it was when he booked it online. There was a garage on one side. It had three doors. Beyond it, there was a matching groundskeeper house. That small building had more square feet than his condo. “You want me to take that?” He pointed to the bag.

  “I got it. And I’m Alexis.” She did a rocking motion to get moving again and started for the door.

  “Nice to meet you, Alexis.” She was already moving, so he didn’t bother to stick out a hand or walk over to her.

  Instead, he got back in the car and let his headlights light her path as he maneuvered it into position to trigger the code for the garage door from his phone.

  Trouble was, it didn’t work.

  Chris got out and entered the side door. He reached up and pulled the emergency disconnect cord and opened the garage by hand. Once he got the car inside, he tried the lights. No luck. He navigated out of the garage using the flashlight on his phone. He had his overnight bag, and on impulse, pulled out an old leather jacket he’d stashed in his trunk over three months ago. Vi had bitched about it being ugly. He’d planned on getting rid of it but never got around to it.

  “Here, hold this. I think the power is out.” He handed her the jacket.

  “Really?” She looked up and down the line of houses.

  Chris noticed the streetlights were out, and all the houses were dark.

  Picking up on her sarcasm, he quipped, “Yeah, really.”

  “What clued you in, the streetlights or the lack of any light anywhere?”

  He paused in his search for the house key the owner had mailed him just in case the power went out. “You always such a scaredy-cat?” He laughed to show he was joking.

  “Only when I’m standing in the dark with a serial killer.” She said without missing a beat.

  “It’s a good thing I’m not one, then.” He fit the key in the lock and within a few moments, they were inside.

  “There’s a fireplace and I think a generator somewhere. I’m surprised it hasn’t kicked on. The landlord said something about back-up power in case of hurricanes and shit, but it doesn’t power everything.”

  “You Davy Crockett?”

  Chris stopped in his tracks. “No.”

  “Boy Scout?”

  “Fuck no.”

  “You know how to start a fire?”

  He made a noise. “I’m not stupid.”

  “Do you know what a damper is? A flue?”

  There was a long pause. “No.”

  “You have a lighter?”

  “No.”

  “Yeah, you definitely aren’t a Boy Scout.” Alexis moved to the fireplace. “Shine your
phone over here.” She fumbled around at the mantle, locating the lighter and then prepping the kindling in the grate. There were a couple more things she fiddled with that Chris didn’t catch, but it resulted in a nice little crackle and the fire was lit.

  “Let me guess, Girl Scout?”

  “In another life.” She didn’t sound happy about it. Considering the blue hair and the clothes, and on closer examination, he noticed black fingernails filed down into sharp little points, he guessed there really was another life she left behind. He had one of those too, so he let it slide.

  “Well, you’re good at that. Thanks.”

  She blinked at him, or the light of his phone blinding her. “You’re welcome. Any place I can change?”

  “Upstairs. The owner said there are bathrobes and shit in the master bath.”

  Her progress toward the hallway stopped. “I’m not staying.”

  “Yeah, I might not be either. No power is kind of a bummer.”

  “It’s not the power. No offense.”

  He studied her. “None taken. But seriously, the bathrobes are probably dry.” The damp canvas of the bag she carried didn’t bode well for anything inside.

  “And the Devil tempts you with luxury.”

  “Non-sequitur much?”

  “Ooh, a learned man. I swoon.” She faked a sway with her hands over her heart.

  “All the online college degrees I can get.” He tapped his chest with both fists in a fake Tarzan motion.

  “Beats community college.”

  “Been there, did that too.”

  Alexis just stared at him. “Right. Now you drive a Mercedes.”

  “It’s used, cheaper that way.”

  “Cool.”

  She sounded impressed. Vi was appalled when he mentioned his degree was from an online university. Then again, he had two degrees, one in engineering and one in business. They trumped her paltry four years. He’d gotten the first degree in engineering as a byproduct of learning how to create the signs his shop produced. The business degree was to create better profits for his shop. He was working on a Master’s now. It wasn’t easy, but he had to do it if only to prove to himself he could. Or maybe it was a way to distance himself farther from his past.

  Alexis rummaged in the kitchen, using the lighter to see. She came back with two flashlights. “Here, check the garage for the generator. It should have instructions near it.”

  “I know how to work a generator.” Hell, he could build one if he wanted to.

  “You could have worked the fireplace too. There was an instruction card on the mantle.”

  “Oh.”

  She smiled at him. “Should I have rubbed it in a bit longer?”

  “No. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Honesty wins unless someone’s depending on you. Then lie, right?”

  “That’s usually how it goes.” He looked around. “Standing around isn’t going to get us warm. See if you can find something dry, I’ll get the power on.”

  In a few minutes, the generator was running and the house had power. The circuit it powered went to the kitchen and two downstairs rooms. It would be overloaded by the whole house. But Chris couldn’t fault the design. It covered the essential items. Food, extra heat from the floorboard electric heaters in the guest room and kitchen, and powered the water heater and pump. It was all labeled, too. He didn’t have to be an electrical engineer to figure it out, but he lingered to confirm it was all done correctly.

  “There you are. My other set of clothes wasn’t so bad. I plugged in my phone, but there are no cabs out this far. No rideshares running, either. This is insane.”

  “You check the Weather Channel?”

  “Oh, didn’t think about that.”

  “No worries.” Chris pulled his phone out and pulled up the alerts. “Winter storm advisory, warning, warning, and…warning. Nice.”

  “Not nice. How bad?”

  “Heavy snow expected on the coast. We’re set to get ten inches.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. Look.” He showed her the radar. The band of freezing rain was now farther south, near the Delaware line. The bulk of the storm was still over eastern Pennsylvania and heading directly toward them. New York, he noticed, was on the north end of the storm and probably going to be only minimally hit. If he’d have gone with Vi, he’d have missed this.

  Alexis whistled. He looked at her.

  The blue was now much more vivid as her hair had dried somewhat. It brought out the color of her eyes, which weren’t exactly blue nor were they exactly green. It also reminded him if he wouldn’t have left Vi and come here, she would still be trudging in the snowstorm.

  “We can run this for hours, but I’d like to keep it to the floor heaters and food if that’s okay?”

  “Any lanterns out here?” She poked around on the shelves in the garage. Soon she found a battery lantern. “You said food?”

  “Yeah. I had stuff delivered to the landlord earlier today. You hungry?”

  “Never turn down free food, except out of a dumpster. That stuff is garbage.”

  He checked her face, thinking it was a joke. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “Yes.” She smiled at him, almost laughing.

  He smiled back and led the way to the kitchen and pulled out the restaurant containers. He lined them up, then moved two into different points in the array and checked the drawers in the kitchen for silverware. He sorted the large spoons out of the smaller spoon pile and rearranged the salad forks next, just in case they hadn’t sent utensils

  “What the hell is this, some sort of meal prep shit?” Alexis had opened two of the boxes.

  He pulled two forks and two spoons out. “Better.”

  “You really are rich.”

  “Naw, trust me, I’m just a fairly well-off normal person. I just look rich. There’s rich-rich, rich, and I’m somewhere above average and edging toward doing well.”

  “Seriously? You’ve got like caviar or some shit in this one.” She was poking at the hors d’oeuvres.

  “Are there small containers of what look like sour cream or eggs in there?”

  “This isn’t sour cream.” She was sucking on a small spoonful.

  “No, it’s fraiche.”

  Her eyebrow went up. “With a little plastic spoon. I feel so sophisticated.” She put a pinky up and rolled her eyes. “Did you grab the good silver?” Her voice had changed to affect a pretty bad Hampton accent.

  “You don’t serve caviar with metal.”

  “Why not?”

  “It oxidizes and the eggs take on a metal flavor.”

  “So, plastic?”

  “Or bone.”

  “Ew. Plastic it is.”

  “You ever have sushi?”

  “Sure.”

  “Those little orange eggs?”

  “Yes.” Her answer was just a little drawn out. She didn’t sound so certain.

  “These are just bigger and squishier.”

  “Gross.”

  “It’s good.” He pulled a second tiny plastic spoon from the container Alexis had pillaged. Then he dished up a spoonful on a cracker. “Here.” He handed her the sample and poured a small chaser of vodka he’d pulled from the freezer. “Chew, then chase it with this.”

  She pushed the shot back at him. “No thanks.”

  “Oh, sorry. You don’t drink?”

  “I’m good.”

  “Not even a sip?” He prepped a bit on one of the little triangles of bread the restaurant had provided. It was not quite cold enough but had excellent flavor. He took the shot and sipped it, enjoying the contrast.

  “This is actually quite good.” She helped herself to another spoonful and a piece of toast this time.

  “There’s enough here for four.”
>
  “It doesn’t look like enough for four.” She poked at the container.

  “Well, it’s not the only thing you eat.” He got to work warming up the entree. It was a lamb navarin.

  “Is this cake?” She’d opened the dacquoise.

  “Hazelnut cake.”

  “Can we eat that first?”

  He laughed. “No. You want to save the best for last.”

  “You’re no fun.”

  “So I’ve been told. Numerous times.”

  “I don’t know, you might have hidden depths.”

  This time, the laugh was from somewhere a lot deeper and darker. “I’ll never confess, no matter what the cops do to me.”

  She laughed right along with him and stole a sip from the vodka he’d poured.

  “This is amazing.” She paused. “And it’s set up for two.” Color flooded her face. “Am I eating someone’s meal?”

  “Yeah. Yours. Shut up and enjoy.”

  “You are the Devil, aren’t you? If so, where do I sign? I want a record deal, at least ten years on top, and when I go, make it quick and utterly embarrassing. I’ll deal with the eternal suffering, but I don’t want cancer or some shit like that.”

  “I’m not the Devil, so while that was enlightening, no deal.” The stew was ready.

  “Seriously, a swanky vacation getaway, catered dinner, caviar…special occasion?”

  “My birthday.”

  “Oh, happy birthday.”

  “It’s tomorrow.” Chris checked his watch. “Two hours from now.”

  “Cool. Which one? Thirty, thirty-five?”

  “Forty.”

  She whistled. “You’re pretty for being forty.”

  “How old are you?”

  “About twenty-five.”

  “About?”

  “Yeah. About.”

  Many thoughts raced around his head. “So, like eighteen, twenty-five?”

  “Huh?”

  “Kids lie about their age. Well, kids and women reaching a milestone like thirty.” He faked dramatics, “Oh God, you’re not like, thirty or something!”