by J. J. Cagney
Cici spent a good hour there, simply petting his great head as the dog labored through each breath.
“Don’t die, precious. Please, Rodolfo. Fight for me. I’ll bring Mona in to see you again tomorrow.”
“I heard that, Rev,” Shannon said, coming around the corner.
“You heard nothing,” Cici said.
The young woman nodded. She scooted closer and leaned in to Cici’s ear. “I’ll let you in at seven again.”
Cici smiled her thanks at the young woman and continued to stroke Rodolfo’s muzzle. The fur there was much shorter, and Cici could feel each of his bones. Her eyes stung with the tears she tried to battle back.
“And we can get you a girlfriend as soon as you’re up and ready to move again. If you want one, that is.”
Shannon chuckled as she headed back out to the front, probably to turn on the computers and get the office ready for its daily dose of organized chaos.
Rodolfo whined softly and tried to lick her hand but ended up grimacing in pain when he moved. His breathing labored and he closed his eyes. Cici continued to stroke his head, wishing once again, that she’d made a different choice, been more involved in her sister’s life.
Because this? This was the direct result of her lack of attention. Cici leaned in closer still to the dog. She touched her forehead to his. He made a small noise and closed his eyes.
“I have to go to the police station, Rodolfo,” Cici whispered. “I’m afraid . . . I’m afraid Justin might have killed my sister.”
Sam and Cici sat at one of the conference tables in the main part of the precinct. Justin stared at them from the other side of the table. His hands shook even though they were linked together, resting on the battered oak top. Sam told Cici he refused to pull Justin into an interrogation room.
“He works here, Cee. I can’t do that to him.” Sam paused, considering. “And you can’t come with me.”
“I have to,” Cici said.
Sam shook his head. “You can’t. It’s against protocol.”
A driving need made Cici grasp Sam’s wrist. “I have to,” Cici said again, all the emotions from Anna Carmen overflowing in those words. “He knows things. I know he does.”
Sam’s eyes widened with each word. His mouth gaped as he stared at her. Cici let go of him and stepped back, her breathing still choppy.
“For a moment there, you . . . you sounded like Anna Carmen. Did that same thing with your mouth she did when she was upset . . .” Sam shook his head again, as if trying to clear it. “This is weird.”
“Please, Sam.”
He studied her for a long moment. His eyes seemed both present and calculating. Finally, he said, “I have to make sure it’s okay with my boss.”
Cici agreed. She waited while Sam spoke to his boss. The man signed off on Sam’s request but told Cici she better not get him in trouble.
“I won’t,” she promised.
He ruminated for another long moment, his pale eyes barely visible under his bushy, white brows. “Fine. But I mean it. Don’t screw this up.”
Cici wasn’t sure if he meant the case, the interview, or something more basic like the conference room. She didn’t ask.
She had questions—questions that scared her, especially the more she considered the dream from last night.
For now, though, she sat in her padded chair across the table from Justin, Sam inches away.
Cici still didn’t feel safe.
“I never told you, either of you, I spoke to her because it’s not like I could bring Anna Carmen back,” Justin grumbled. He stared at Cici and Sam across the metal table, his eyes filled with heat.
Cici clasped her hands together on the table, hoping to warm her stiff fingers.
“We know you talked to her that day because I’ve already spoken with the people who were there,” Sam said, his voice carefully modulated.
This must be his detective voice—the one he used with suspects. Cici sucked in a breath, trying to regulate her heartbeat. Being here, questioning Justin . . . this was surreal. And she’d put this set of events into motion.
Her stomach ached. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want this scenario her mind kept looping through—the scene at the Santuario—to be true.
“You not telling us then . . . this looks bad, Justin,” Sam continued.
Justin’s gaze lingered on Cici’s red and scabbed hands.
“What happened to you? I never got to ask you yesterday.”
“I got in a fight with a chain-link fence,” Cici said.
“Looks like you lost,” Justin muttered. His eyes flashed up to hers. “You all right?”
“She’s fine. Focus on that day in Chimayó. You might have seen her killer,” Sam persisted, his voice beginning to grate from the strain of holding on to his temper.
“But I didn’t. I’d been through the academy, Sam. I knew what to look for. I was with some of the people from our church. I went over to say hi because Anna Carmen looked so lost in thought. I asked her to join our group. She declined.”
“We’ll follow up with the list you gave us to make sure,” Sam said.
Justin dipped his head, but his eyes narrowed. “Smart.”
“Tell me about your uncle Ernesto.”
Justin reared back as though Sam had punched him. After a long moment of harsh breathing, he returned his gaze to Sam’s.
“This is why I didn’t say anything. Ernesto was a lowlife, drug-selling piece of scum. He killed people to protect his drug trafficking.”
Justin’s gaze skittered to Cici’s before landing back on Sam’s. She sat up straighter, knowing he didn’t want her in the room—yet hoping he would be compelled to tell the truth because she was there.
The silence in the room fell heavy, accusatory, around all three of them. Sam reached forward and wrapped his long fingers around the Styrofoam cup in front of him.
Sam took a sip, eyes still trained on Justin. He set the cup back on the metal table and straightened the notes in front of him.
“Tell us why you were at Miguel Sanchez’s the day he ended up in the back of an ambulance.”
Justin’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. He whistled.
“No wonder I’m in here,” Justin mused. “You really think I had something to do with this, don’t you?”
Sam leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “I’m asking the questions, here, Justin.”
“Wow,” Justin whispered. “You do.”
Silence. The two men studied each other, causing Cici to shift in her chair.
“I don’t know what to think, Justin,” she said, the compulsion to speak too strong to ignore. “But I’m scared.” She took a deep breath. “Please tell us what happened at the Sanchez’s house. Please.”
“I was . . . following a lead,” Justin said, his cheeks turning a ruddy shade.
“A lead? On what?”
Justin’s face turned redder. “I know I’m not an investigator, but I heard something . . . and I wanted to see if it panned out.”
“What was this lead?” Sam asked, his voice flinty.
Justin hung his head. “It’s connected. To Ernesto.”
“Who’s dead?” Sam asked.
“That’s the official line from Mexico,” Justin returned.
“Are you saying you don’t believe it?”
“I’m saying . . . I’m not sure I want to tell you what I suspected.”
Sam leaned forward. Cici saw how tight his hands were fisted in his lap. She hadn’t seen Sam this angry since . . . well, since Anna Carmen’s funeral.
“We have two accounts now that you were on Juan’s street yesterday,” Sam said. “Thanks to your own written statement that you handed over twenty minutes ago, we know you spoke with Anna Carmen within minutes of her death. You have been my friend for over twenty years, Justin, but right now, I’m starting to believe you’ve not only lied to me, you’re an accessory to Anna Carmen’s murder.”
“Whatever you tell me now
won’t bring Anna Carmen back,” Cici said, leaning forward and wrapping both of her hands around Justin’s larger one. “Please, Justin. For her. Please.”
Justin pulled his hand out from between hers and patted them both. His hand was warm, comforting. Cici began to relax.
“I told you it was a potential lead. I parked across the street.”
“In front of Miguel Sanchez’s house,” Sam said, still frowning.
“Yeah.” Justin blew out a breath. “I never got out of my car. I did, however, take a bunch of pictures on my camera.”
“Of what?” Sam asked.
“Susan Johnson.”
“Why?”
Justin rolled his lips into his mouth.
“The potential lead,” Sam prompted. “Did it pan out?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because someone tried to kill Cici’s dog with an arrow.”
“Tried to shoot me first,” Cici muttered.
Justin sat up straighter. “What?”
“Mind if we look?” Sam asked.
“At what?” Justin asked, still staring at Cici.
“The photos you took,” Sam said, exasperation creeping into his voice.
Justin shook his head. “I was going to give them to you anyway.”
Cici eyes filled with tears and her nose plugged. “I’m sorry, Justin.”
He turned toward her—the same caring eyes she’d seen in her kitchen last week. Her chest ached. Justin helped Sam find her on the Dale Ball Trails. He helped get Rodolfo to the vet’s vehicle.
“What’s got you so worked up, Cee?” Sam asked.
“What was going on with you and Anna Carmen?” Cici asked. “Evan said he saw you with her the night before she died.”
No, that wasn’t true. Evan said Anna Carmen spent time with Donald Johnson. But as soon as the words left Cici’s lips, she knew them to be true.
Sure, Cici was angry with her sister, but she also trusted Anna Carmen with her life. Just as Anna Carmen trusted Cici with her story. Even when it wasn’t the pretty one Anna Carmen wanted it to be. That’s why she showed Cici that conversation in the dream.
Cici concentrated, pulling back up the emotion from her vision last night. Dread. Anna Carmen hadn’t wanted to see Justin, hadn’t wanted to talk to him.
“Nothing,” he said.
“Justin, I’m going to tell you right now that I know you’re lying,” Cici said.
His gaze caught hers as his mouth turned down.
“How do you know that?” Sam demanded.
“I just do,” Cici said, her voice brooking no argument. “What happened between you and Anna Carmen that made Evan so upset?”
Justin held her gaze so long Cici had to blink.
“Ask him.”
Cici looked down at the table, sifting through the images and emotions she’d experienced last night. Nothing. Cici had nothing further.
She raised her gaze and saw something dark flash in Justin’s eyes. That soft, subtle breeze touched Cici’s cheek, her lips.
“How long had you been in love with her?” Cici asked, her voice quiet.
Justin’s lips slammed together tighter. Sam straightened in his chair.
“You did. You loved her,” Cici said.
The certainty grew. Cici could feel her sister there, next to her, feel her agitation and excitement as Cici homed in on this truth. What had Anna Carmen said? That Cici had to fix what Anna Carmen broke. But it wasn’t Anna Carmen who tried to destroy her relationship with Evan.
“And you told . . . ” Cici wanted to look over. See her sister. She kept her eyes on Justin’s face by sheer strength of will. “You told Evan you wanted Anna Carmen.”
“I think I might need a lawyer,” Justin said. “Definitely not Evan.”
“Justin.” Cici’s voice was soft, pleading. “My sister’s dead, and this is the first real lead the police have. You loved her. I need you to tell us what happened.”
Justin’s eyes turned to ice and his face settled into immutable lines. “I don’t need to tell you a damn thing about my private life. Either of you. And Evan’s a lying piece of human refuse who can go screw himself.”
Justin crossed his arms over his chest and glared.
Sam stood, his metal chair grating on the linoleum, causing Cici to jump. Sam touched her shoulder, made a gesture for her to stand. She did, on shaky legs.
Sam took her arm and led her from the room.
Cici stepped out of the room and leaned back against the wall, trying to stem her shaking.
“Did that go as badly as I think it did?” she asked.
“Worse,” Sam said. He reread the note Cici had given him. “Why didn’t you tell me what you suspected?”
This time, Cici’s face brightened and she dropped her gaze to her sneaker-clad feet. “I didn’t want it to be about Justin.”
“And now? What do you think now, Cee?”
She swallowed hard. After taking one deep breath, then a second, Cici faced Sam directly. “I think he’s lied to all of us. About all of this.”
Sam stuttered forward, sadness darkening his eyes. “Ah, Cee. I hate this. For both of us.”
Cici rested her head against his shoulder and drew a shuddering breath. “So do I,” she managed to choke out around the knot of emotion snarled in her throat. Sam patted her back, his large hand soothing.
Jen, one of the receptionists, rounded the corner and paused in front of Sam, her uncertain gaze darting back and forth between them. “Detective? You’ve got a call you’re going to want to take.”
“All right. You know who it is?”
Jen shrugged. “Not real sure. Probably something you should . . . ah . . . go see to.”
Sam sucked his lower lip into his mouth. “Can you tell whomever it is I’ll have to call them back? I need to speak with the captain.”
Jen’s eye darted toward the closed conference door, and Cici’s heart sank. Justin’s past—especially where it entwined with her sister’s—might be murky, but . . . Cici didn’t believe, could not believe, Justin had killed Anna Carmen.
Not after that first dream where Anna Carmen very clearly did not know who stabbed her.
“Erm, I think you’re going to want to take the call,” Jen said. “It’s important.”
Was that why her sister showed her those visions in that order? Cici grasped Justin’s part in the drama might prove larger than she would’ve imagined, but he wasn’t the one who did the deed and took Anna Carmen’s life.
She didn’t think.
She leaned her head back against the wall and shut her eyes. She was tired. Soul-consuming tired, as she’d been after Anna Carmen’s death.
“What if I sit with Justin while you take your call?” Cici suggested.
Sam shoved the corner of his thumb into his mouth—a sure sign of agitation. He only ever bit his cuticles under duress.
“It’ll be okay,” Cici said, keeping her voice low.
“How do you know that? I lost Anna Carmen.” Sam turned his anguished eyes to her. He took in her every feature in a way that warmed her heart. “I can’t lose you, too, Cee. I can’t.” His voice broke.
“I’ll wait right here with her, Detective,” Jen offered.
“That’ll work fine,” Cici said with a bit of a smile, trying to find her equilibrium after being the recipient of Sam’s hungry gaze.
“I’ll be right back,” Sam said.
“All right.”
Cici watched Sam hurry down the hall toward his desk. She sighed, her shoulders slumping with fatigue as she stared at the door.
“Hard part of the legal system,” Jen said.
“What’s that?” Cici asked.
“Doing what’s right. That’s the hardest part sometimes. Especially in a town this size. You know the people brought in. Think you know them. But sometimes they have such deep-seated secrets you find they’re strangers.”
“Yeah,” Cici said, blo
wing out a breath. “Yeah.” She stood up. “You know—you gave me an idea. Mind if I call someone?”
“Sure.” Jen leaned against the white, scuffed wall where Cici had rested moments before. She stared down the corridor toward the bull pen that housed the officers’ desks, away from Cici. Cici would need to thank Jen for giving her as much privacy as she could.
Cici stepped away a few paces and thumbed through her phone to find Evan’s number. The hall was quiet—probably because Justin was the only one in one of these rooms right now.
She held her breath as it dialed.
“What do you want?” he growled.
Evan’s greeting was as caustic as the last interaction they’d had. How had she missed his pain?
“You know Anna Carmen never had a relationship with Justin.”
“Oh. Really? And how do you know that?” His voice sharpened.
“Evan. She was my identical twin. We talked about your wedding, how many kids you’d have and what you’d name them. She was conflicted about leaving her students at Capitol, but she planned to do it because it meant she’d get to be with you.”
Cici chuckled but the sound was dry as the snow that blew away faster than a tumbleweed.
“She loved you despite your profession,” Cici murmured. “You have no idea how hard that must have been for her because our dad is a massive dick.”
Silence filled the space between them. Finally, Evan sighed. Cici’s stomach dipped even as hope began to burn in her chest.
“I heard your words, but they don’t compute. Something about you being a person of god and saying ‘massive dick’ screams wrong.”
For the first time since coming home, Evan’s voice lost some of its frostiness.
“She considered you her soul mate,” Cici went on, needing to get this out.
Evan’s breath broke and his voice caught when he said, “Are you . . . really?”
Cici remembered the dream, her sister’s eyes when she’d asked about courage. “I’m sure.”
“Jesus, Cee. I mean . . . sorry about the Lord’s name. Wow. Wow. That’s . . . wow.”
“Why didn’t you take the job in Scottsdale?” Cici asked.
“It fell through,” Evan replied. “I was told I’d been blackballed from any of the big firms.”