by J. J. Cagney
“I’ll get you home, Cee,” Justin said. He squeezed her arm one more time before running his palm up and down her biceps. “No worries.”
“I’ll be ready in a moment,” Cici said, collecting the mugs from her desk.
After dumping out Sam’s full cup of tea and setting them both in the sink, Cici walked back to her office to retrieve her purse and keys. Justin helped her slide into her coat, though it was still warm enough she didn’t need it. Sam stayed by her other side as they walked out the door. Both men waited for her to set the alarm and lock up before Sam spoke again.
“You call me if you see anything suspicious,” he said with a frown, hand running over the top of his head to tug on his short pony tail. “Anything at all.”
“Sure.” Cici turned toward Justin. “Thanks for the lift.”
Justin brought his eyes back down to Cici. “No prob. Let’s get you home, Rev.”
“Stick around and walk her dogs with her,” Sam called out.
Justin threw a thumbs-up over his shoulder as he walked toward a police vehicle. He stayed right by her side as Cici opened her door and her hundred-plus-pound dogs tumbled out in a tangle of legs, tails, and doggy breaths.
True to his word, Justin stuck with Cici through her dog walk—which was much faster than usual because, much as it annoyed her, she worried about the exposure walking down the street garnered. She hated feeling so exposed . . . and unprepared.
The eerie feeling expanded as they turned the last corner back toward her house. Out front was a large, black pickup. It was wedged between Justin’s police car and a compact sedan. Cici’s steps slowed when Justin cursed, low and vicious.
“Do you know who that is?” she asked, trying to keep her voice level. Hard to do with the adrenaline dump that now pumped through her veins. She didn’t need that spot in her head pinging danger! for Cici to realize the black beast of a truck growling mere feet from her doorstep meant trouble.
Justin shook his head as he half-stepped in front of her, causing the hairs on Cici’s arms to rise. He might not know the person in the truck—hard to see through the dark tint—but the vehicle clearly upset him as much as her.
Mona backed up against Cici’s leg while Rodolfo tugged at the end of his leash, his snarl deep and guttural.
The driver’s side window rolled down about three inches. Cici squinted, but all she made out was a dark beanie pulled low over the person’s eyebrows, and large, black plastic sunglasses.
The person threw something out the window. Rodolfo leaped forward, tugging the leash from Cici’s hand as she flinched back. The dog sprinted toward the truck.
“Rodolfo, heel!” Cici called. The dog quivered to a halt, whining, as the truck’s engine roared. Within seconds, it sped down the street.
Cici’s breathing remained labored as she hurried forward, snatching up Rodolfo’s leash. The dogs whined again and nuzzled against her, bumping her hips with their heads.
Justin snatched the paper from the street. He stood there, at the curb, scanning the message.
“Did you get the license plate?” Cici asked.
Justin shook his head, still staring after the truck. “Covered in mud or something.” He swallowed, glanced down at the paper in his hand.
“What does that say?”
“I’m not sure you should read it.”
“Not really your choice.” Cici switched the dog leash to one hand and held out her free one. “The person came to my home. The message is clearly for me.”
Justin handed it over with obvious reluctance.
Your sister didn’t know when to stop snooping.
8
Listen to many, speak to a few. —Shakespeare
Justin called in the event once they entered Cici’s house. While he was on the phone, she fed her dogs, before settling at her small kitchen table to pet their silky ears. Mona laid her head in Cici’s lap, her large brown eyes boring into Cici’s.
“Sam wants to come over now,” Justin said, handing over the speaker.
Cici shook her head. “It can wait.”
Justin frowned, opened his mouth. Sam must have said something into the phone because Justin pressed it closer to his ear.
“Say again? Okay. Yeah, that’s smart. Uh uh. Uh huh. Yep. Bye.”
Justin hung up, but the preoccupied expression settled more firmly on his face. Cici studied him for a moment before deciding to let him tell her whatever he and Sam discussed.
“Want to stay for pizza?” Cici asked.
“Sure.”
Cici picked up the phone and ordered a large sausage and green chile pizza on whole wheat crust. When the meal arrived, they settled onto the couch to watch a movie. Justin tossed his crusts to the dogs, much to Cici’s frustration—her dogs never received table scraps. Not because she didn’t believe in sharing the wealth, but because she’d had to work hard to keep them from surfing her counters and dining table. But she bit her tongue because Justin was kind enough to stay.
She needed this level of kindness in her life right now.
After the movie credits rolled, Justin stood and stretched. He carried his glass and paper plate to the kitchen and set them on the counter.
“Time for me to go,” he said.
Cici stared at him, wondering if there was a way for her to ask him to stay. If she did, it could change their relationship—one she hadn’t considered since her sophomore year in high school when they dated briefly.
He’d wanted Anna Carmen more than her then, which had caused one of the biggest fights ever between the girls.
Before she managed to wrap her mind around whether she wanted Justin to stay, he said, “Someone from the department will be here to keep watch outside.”
“All right. Hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow at the early morning service,” Cici said with a tremulous smile she didn’t feel. “Blessings, Justin.”
Justin leaned in and hesitated long enough for Cici to wonder if he meant to kiss her. He did, but on the cheek, as far from her lips as possible. Cici tried to stem the relief flowing through her body, not wanting it to flash into her eyes and upset him.
Justin shoved through the kitchen door and headed toward his car, not bothering to look back.
The next morning, Cici struggled to stay focused on her sermon—one of the worst, no the worst—she’d ever given. Her eyes kept flitting among the crowd, watching for nervous ticks, wondering who among them would want to scare her with dead birds and cruel notes.
When she finished, there was a collective sigh of relief. Her members hustled out of the sanctuary, many unwilling to meet her eyes as they headed toward their cars.
She rubbed her hand over her face, dreading facing the congregants.
“Not your best showing, Cee.”
Sam’s words brought her back to the present—standing in the atrium of her church as people laughed and shared coffee or a cookie around her.
“Why aren’t you at mass?” she asked.
“Thought I’d check out the buzz around the hot new preacher in town. Gotta say, it seems overblown.”
“Where’s Jeannette?” Cici asked, craning her neck to find the sleek blonde.
“Since they have tomorrow off, she and a couple of her friends went up to Pagosa Springs. Be back late tomorrow.”
Cici nodded.
“Want to grab some lunch?” Sam asked.
Cici sighed as she shook her head.
“Not today. But thanks.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Justin slip out the door. Sam followed her gaze, frowning.
“Everything okay there?”
“What? Oh, yeah. Fine.”
“You sure, Cee? You look upset.”
“Could have something to do with the mean note and dead birds.”
She placed two fingers next to her temple, but the pressure didn’t alleviate the pain that seemed to have taken up permanent residence there.
“I’ve got someone trailing you, staying at your
place.” Sam studied her. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Cee.”
On impulse, Cici leaned in, wrapping her arms around Sam’s waist in a tight hug. Her head found his shoulder and his arms tightened, his cheek resting on her hair. She drew in the clean scent of his soap—she wasn’t sure if it was body wash or detergent but it smelled fresh, woodsy. Safe.
The headache eased.
“I need to go talk to Evan,” she choked out.
Sam stiffened. He stepped back, his hands remaining on her shoulders as he caught and held her gaze.
“Want me to come with you?” His voice was coaxing.
Cici almost caved. She did want him to, very much so. But . . . she doubted Evan would be as forthcoming in Sam’s presence. Finally, she shook her head, regret stabbing her chest.
“No. I don’t think you’ll make this conversation with Evan any easier.”
Sam dropped his arms and backed up farther. His expression turned inscrutable, much as it was any time she brought up Anna Carmen and Evan. Eventually, he shrugged.
“All right. I guess I’ll see you soon. Stay safe.”
Sam walked out the glass-paneled front doors, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
Cici took a breath and smoothed down her nicest suit skirt—a lovely wool blend in neutral gray. Cici hated it, but it functioned as she needed it to. She looked respectable and about as professional as she could get.
She stepped into the law firm’s foyer just after 8:00 a.m. She tried not to gawp at the opulence of the tumbled marble floors and pewter light fixtures. The chandelier hung with myriad bits of real crystal.
This place was grander than she’d expected—but it reminded her, with a sinking sensation, of her father’s home with KaraLynn. She was the longest of her father’s string of women who’d come during and after the divorce from Cici’s mother.
This place, though, bustled with activity. Who knew lawyers were so busy early on a Monday morning?
Cici refused to go to her father’s much more sedate law office here in Santa Fe once she realized her dad helped get potential criminals lighter sentences—or off completely. She’d been nine when she figured that out. She’d never been to his law office in Scottsdale, but she hated going to the residence her father had once shared with KaraLynn. She used to worry she’d spill on the white sofa or track dirt on the floor. After Anna Carmen’s death, she couldn’t stand that the last of her family proved so shallow and bothered by the inconsequentialities of life rather than celebrating uniqueness and what made each of them special.
“May I help you?” asked the receptionist, eyeing Cici’s suit and trying, no doubt, to decide which lawyer Cici could possibly be here to see.
“Would you let Evan Reynolds know Reverend Cecilia Gurule is here. I don’t have an appointment.”
“Cici!”
James Roderick Pattison III called out her name, his eyes widening with delight.
“Dear me, I don’t see you near often enough, my girl.”
“Blessings, J.R. I missed speaking to you at Donald’s funeral. How’s your lovely wife? I spoke with Carina briefly after the service yesterday, so I know she and the baby are well.”
“Joan said you visited our sweet pea with her sweet pea in the hospital and brought her a onesie and a blanket you knitted for the baby, too. You always were a thoughtful one, Cici. What brings you in?”
All this time, the receptionist’s eyes widened more and more so now they took up most of her face. Guess it wasn’t every day a stranger walked in and was greeted with such enthusiasm by the most successful partner in the firm.
“Well, I did want to be sure to invite Carina and Joan to our new mother/grandmother group. We have an amazing set of women.”
“That’s what Joan said. She’s really pleased with the work you’re doing at the church, Cici. That opening coming when it did—we’re sure glad we were able to snap you up. I’m sure your mother would be just as proud as Joan is to have helped reel you back home.”
Cici’s smile widened. “That’s high praise, J. R., and I’m thrilled to hear it. I’m here to see Evan. If he’s available.”
“I’ll make sure he is. Your time’s just as valuable as his. Come on.” He waved me past the still-gawking receptionist, who scrambled to look busy as we headed toward the bank of elevators across the lobby. J.R. leaned in, closer and said in a low voice, “Now, what’s this I hear about Donald’s death being like Anna Carmen’s?”
Cici startled but turned toward him. Under his bushy white eyebrows were the keen eyes of a lifelong prosecutor. Sure, he handled mostly divorce and inheritance cases now—taking his lifestyle from comfortable to as lavish as many of his clients—but J.R. Pattison’s name still brought the right kind of respect when he entered any courthouse in the state.
“You talked to Evan,” Cici murmured. She paused, considering her options.
J.R.’s scowl turned blacker than the thunderheads that sat on Baldy throughout the summer.
“I did. After I saw him talking to you at Donald’s funeral. I’m worried about you, my dear. This mess seems to be building again, and I don’t like where it’s headed.”
Cici blinked, shocked by J.R.’s blunt assessment.
“Why do I get the sense there’s more to that statement?” Cici asked.
J.R. rubbed his smooth chin, further enunciating the wrinkles surrounding his mouth.
“I don’t know. Just . . . a gut sense.” His normally twinkling pale blue eyes were flat and narrowed. “Evan and Don had a blowout after Anna Carmen’s death.”
Cici wondered if the bottom of the elevator dropped out . . . no, just her legs turning to jelly.
“They did?”
J.R. patted her shoulder. “I almost had to let Evan go—couldn’t get rid of Don what with him being a partner and all. But Don’s the one who talked me out of it. Said Evan had a right to be angry. Look, I don’t have any details, but I’ll investigate Don’s dealings. I have a feeling his work had something to do with all this.”
This conversation had not gone how Cici expected. “Why?”
“I promised your father if I heard anything—anything at all—to bring that murdering rabble to justice; I’d do the legal leg work.”
“My dad?” Cici squeaked.
J.R.’s face fell into heavy lines of grief. “I’ve never seen Frank so low. Granted, Joan and I are still devastated by Anna Carmen’s death. Carina had nightmares for weeks.”
They stepped out of the elevator.
Carina, J.R.’s only child and a good friend of both Anna Carmen’s and Cici’s, was one of the people with Anna Carmen on the pilgrimage to the Santuario. And one of the last people to ever speak to her twin. Cici tried not to be jealous Carina had those beautiful memories, but sometimes, like now, the pain of losing Anna Carmen ate at her, making it hard not to be upset.
“And Cici.” J.R. cleared his throat. “I’m worried. I mean, Sam’s back, as are you, which is wonderful—you’re both great people with good heads on your shoulders.”
The weight of his stare crushed against Cici’s chest.
“But, Anna Carmen’s death wasn’t an accident.”
He paused, making sure Cici grasped the warning in those words.
“There’s a reason Anna Carmen’s killer wasn’t found. Just as there’s a reason Evan is still here, in this office, instead of taking that job he salivated for in Scottsdale.”
Cici’s mouth dried faster than water spilled on a summer-heated Albuquerque street. She studied his piercing eyes as he remained stoically silent.
She dipped her head. Message received. The shiver that built along Cici’s spine swept through her chest cavity, biting cold and just as sinister.
“Cecilia,” Evan said, rising from his desk, his nostrils flaring a little as he came around to take her hand in his larger one. He placed a kiss on her cheek, but Cici understood that show was for J.R., who’d tapped on Evan’s office door.
J.R. nodded to Cici.
“Joan and Carina will see you later this week, I’m sure.”
With that, he lumbered down the hall as only a big and tall man can.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Evan asked, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he settled back into his plush leather chair. His hair was slicked down on his head, a shade or two darker than its natural color, thanks to the pomade. Cici wanted to reach over and dishevel it, simply to make Evan look more human—more caring. How had Anna Carmen been okay with Evan like this, with this lifestyle?
“Someone threw a note at me while I was walking my dogs.”
Evan’s mouth flattened. “God. What’s the city coming to?”
Cici edged farther into the room. “I thought you should read it.”
She laid the photocopy of the note on the desk. Evan picked it up slowly, his brows tightening over his nose as he read the words.
Cici sank into the leather-and-wood chair across from the large, ornate statement desk Evan reigned over. Her chair was lower, in case she needed a further reminder of who was in charge here.
“What did you mean?” she asked. “Your words Saturday, they bothered me. About Anna Carmen and Donald.”
Evan steepled his index fingers in front of his mouth. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. “They spent time together in those last few days before her murder.”
“Why?” Cici asked.
Evan shrugged, but his eyes cooled further, turned flinty. He knew something but wasn’t willing to share. Fine. She knew that he knew more, and now he knew that she knew—as would the SFPD.
“Why didn’t you take that position in Scottsdale? Weren’t you set to go in two weeks?”
Evan stood, rebuttoning his coat. “My first morning appointment is here.” He dipped his head toward the voices in the hallway. “If you want to catch up further, why don’t you make an appointment with my secretary.”
Cici stood, her heart hammering. “Fine. Anna Carmen told me about the engagement, you know.”