by Mark Stone
Salazar’s smile widened even further. It was as if he enjoyed the fact that Jessie saw right through him, like this was some sort of game.
“I’m constantly impressed,” Salazar said.
“You’re about to be constantly imprisoned,” Jessie retorted. “Especially if something happens to that woman.”
“And why would you think I wished her any ill will?” Salazar asked. “Did she mention me by name?” He took a step closer. “Or did she mention someone a lot closer to you than me?”
Jessie blanched. How could he have known that? He hadn’t mentioned Katie’s post on the internet. She had to imagine a man like him had more effective ways of garnering information, anyway. Certainly, his little birds didn’t spend all day going up and down people’s timelines. Even if they had, Jessie saw the post Katie put up on the internet. It never mentioned the woman mentioning Roman. He knew this a different way, and the idea of that made Jessie terribly uneasy. Of course, she wasn’t about to let him know that.
“Do you enjoy asking questions you already know the answer to, Salazar?” she asked.
“There are countless ways to answer a question, Detective St. James, and no two people answer them the same way,” he said. “The way they answer, the things they say, it tells me so much about a person.”
“Is that right?” Jessie asked. “And exactly what do my answers say about me?”
Salazar stepped closer again. There were inches between the two now, but Jessie stood her ground. If he wanted to intimidate her, he was going to have to try harder than this.
“Come to dinner with me and I’ll tell you,” he replied simply.
“What?” She gaped. “You must be out of your mind.”
“On the contrary. You intrigue me. I think you’d intrigue me even more under candlelight,” he said.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Jessie muttered. “Just tell me what you know about the woman who attacked me.”
“Shall we say tomorrow night at seven? There’s a new French place that I’ve been dying to try,” he said.
“Even if snails smothered in cream were my thing, you still wouldn’t be,” Jessie said.
“I think you’ll change your mind. I’ll leave a seat open for you,” he said, winking at her, an act that sent her stomach into sick gymnastics.
“If something happens to that girl, I’m coming for you, Salazar,” Jessie swore, throwing a pointed finger into the man’s face. “I mean it.”
“You say that as a threat, but it sounds like an inviting promise,” he said, smiling again. “And like I said, Detective St. James, if something happens to that girl, you’d do better to look at someone a lot closer than me.”
With that, Edgar Salazar walked away, leaving Jessie in a huff. As she turned, she almost ran right into the man she had come to see. Her partner, Roman Parks, stood right in front of her. He was holding hands with a tall blonde woman who tugged at Jessie’s memory in a weird way. As she took her in, she realized why.
Roman was holding the hand of the one person in the world Jessie might have hated more than Edgar Salazar.
“Michelle Abbott?” Jessie asked before she could stop herself.
“Jessie St. James,” Michelle said, plastering on the same fake smile the girl had worn in high school. “How long has it been?” she asked, gauging the woman with her eyes. “You look . . . different.”
“How long is ‘not long enough’?” Jessie asked.
“Don’t be like that,” Roman said. “Michelle’s coming back to the island just like you are. The least we can do is offer her a warm welcome.”
“And how warm has it gotten, exactly?” Jessie asked, looking over at Roman.
“Moderately,” Michelle said, answering in his place. “But the night’s still young.”
“About to get a lot older a lot quicker,” Jessie answered. “Come on, Roman, we need to talk.”
5
“Tell me who this is again,” Roman said, staring at Jessie with narrowed eyes from across her desk. She had known those eyes for about as long as she could remember, and for almost as long, they had irked her. It was the way he looked at her, like he knew something about her that no one should know, like he could see straight through to all her insecurities and he loved it. Still, she would be lying if she said she hadn’t seen something of a change in him. Jessie hadn’t wanted to be Roman’s partner at first. In fact, she fussed and complained about it like a baby throwing a temper tantrum. But her father said it would work out, and damn if her father wasn’t right . . . at least so far.
“I have no idea who she is, Roman. That’s the whole point of this,” Jessie said, shaking her head as she leaned back in her chair. “We have her fingerprints. So if she’s in the system, we’ll know about it soon. I was hoping you might have some idea as to who we were talking about until then. Maybe we could cut out the middle man.”
“I get it, Jess,” Roman said, biting his lower lip. “But you don’t even have a picture. All you can tell me is that she’s got dark hair and she looked to be a little younger than us. That could be a lot of people.”
“Sure it could,” Jessie answered. “But she also looked scared to death, and how many women with dark hair who are younger than us do you know who would come to you if they were scared to death?”
“If they were smart, all of them,” Roman replied, smiling a little.
“Shut up. I’m being serious,” Jessie shot back.
“So am I,” he said. “I’m a good cop, and I’m not too hard to look at, either. If you were backed against the wall, wouldn’t you come to me?”
“That depends on how insanely frustrated I wanted to be,” Jessie said, sighing loudly. “Come on. There has to be someone. Think hard. This woman is terrified, Roman. I’m not sure why, but she is, and I’m afraid that if we don’t find her fast, the thing she’s afraid of is going to get her.” Jessie blinked hard, thinking about Edgar Salazar and the way he seemed to know way too much about what was going on. “And I’m pretty sure I know exactly who that person is.”
“I mean, you’re not giving me much to go on,” Roman admitted, placing his elbows on Jessie’s desk, an act that probably would have infuriated her if she had given it any thought. As it stood, she needed to focus on this woman and what Roman’s connection to her could be.
“I was at 317 Mulgrew Avenue. That blue house with the white shutters. The woman seemed confused that it was for sale. She said it belonged to someone named Mickey and that he’d never sell it. My dad said he knew the couple who used to live it in, and as far as he knew, they didn’t have a connection to any Mickey. Do you?”
“The only Mickey in Florida I know has ears and a tail and lives in a princess castle in the middle of the state,” Roman said, shrugging.
“Well, the woman mentioned you for a reason,” Jessie replied. “And this is all we have to go on right now.”
“Not exactly,” Jessie’s father said, walking up to his daughter and her partner with an envelope in his hand. “We ran fingerprints through the database and the results finally came back. This is the woman who attacked you in the house earlier. Lara Edwards.” He opened the envelope and tossed a sheet of paper between them on the desk. It had a mugshot of the woman. She had shorter hair and her face was a bit rounder than what Jessie remembered, but it was definitely her. “As you can see, she has a bit of a rap sheet, but nothing too intense,” Clint said. “Drug possession, intent to distribute, and a conviction for petty theft when she was nineteen.”
Roman grabbed the paper and looked at the picture, his eyes narrowing and his forehead wrinkling. “I’m sorry. I have no idea who this is or why she’d think I could help her.”
“And the name doesn’t sound familiar, Roman?” Clint asked.
“No.” Roman sighed. “I mean, we had an English teacher named Mrs. Edwards during sophomore year, if you remember,” he said, looking at Jessie. “But this woman is younger than us, and I don’t remember our having the kind o
f relationship with her—or any teacher, for that matter, that would lead them to suggest me as a last resort.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Jessie said, remembering the way Roman had been in high school. “Maybe we could reach out to Mrs. Edwards anyway, though. We could see if she has a daughter and if that daughter is the woman in the mugshot.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Clint said. “Once I got the picture, I called a few contacts I have at the hospital and various motels and shelters. My contact at the Seashell Inn recognized her as a woman who checked in last night under the name Lara Parks.”
“Really?” Roman asked, his face instantly tightening. “What’s going on here? Why would she use my last name?”
“Ask her yourself,” Clint said, looking from Roman to his daughter and back again. “She’s in Room 314, and she just called down requesting room service fifteen minutes ago. So, she’s definitely there.”
“That’s some impressive detective work, Dad,” Jessie said.
“I didn’t become chief of police because of my devastating good looks,” the man muttered. “Now match my detective work with some of your own. You question Lara Edwards and find out what the hell is going on here.” He hit the table. “Both of you.”
“Yes sir,” Roman said.
“Yes, Dad,” Jessie said, standing. “Sir,” she corrected after reading the look on his face. “Yes sir.”
“Uh-oh,” Roman whispered to her as they walked toward the door that led to the parking lot and the car. “Looks like somebody’s gonna get grounded when she gets home.”
Jessie rolled her eyes at him. “This should be fun.”
“Are you ever going to let me drive?” Roman asked, looking over at Jessie from the passenger seat of Jessie’s car. The Seashell Inn was about fifteen minutes away, and the pair had gone half of that in almost complete silence. That was just fine by Jessie, but she had to admit that it was weird for Roman. Usually, the man wouldn’t let her get a word in edgewise, what with the constant talking he’d do. She could only imagine that his head was spinning from everything that was going on and from his connection to a woman he claimed not to know. When he did speak, it was a relief to Jessie, not that she’d ever admit that to Roman.
“It doesn’t seem likely. I like to be in control of my own car, thank you very much,” Jessie said, taking a sharp turn toward the Seashell Inn.
“So, why don’t we ever take my car?” Roman asked.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Jessie replied. “Because then I wouldn’t be in control.”
“You have a lot of issues going on in that noggin, don’t you, St. James?” Roman asked, a brief and somewhat heavy smile gracing his face.
“It’s been a long day,” she admitted.
“For me too,” Roman said, turning to look out the window.
“Don’t let your girlfriend hear you say that. She might get the wrong idea,” Jessie murmured.
“My girlfriend?” Roman asked. “You mean Michelle? We’ve gone out to dinner exactly one time, and the evening was cut short when my partner dragged me into the police station to answer questions about a woman who beat her up. I wouldn’t call her my girlfriend.”
“She didn’t beat me up,” Jessie argued.
“She kicked you in the face and ran away. Katie said she thought she might have passed out for a second in that social media post,” Roman replied.
“Damn Katie and her social media,” Jessie said, shaking her head. “I’m going to have to shut that girl up. Lara got a lucky shot in. She took advantage of the kickback of a loaded gun and got me while I was distracted. It won’t happen again. Besides, that was hardly the point.”
“No, the point is that you’re jealous,” Roman said, and the smile that he showed now was much brighter than the previous one.
“Jealous?” Jessie balked, her heart jumping at the audacity. “Why the hell would I be jealous of Michelle Abbott? Because she got to spend the evening with you? I spend the whole day with you, every day. I’m not exactly jumping for joy because of it.”
“You adore me and I won’t hear another word about it,” Roman answered quickly. “And I meant that you were jealous of me, not Michelle. You’re out there, getting kicked in the face by strangers, and I’m on a hot date. The contrast isn’t lost on me.”
“So it was a hot date now?” Jessie asked.
“It certainly had the potential to be before I got pulled away,” Roman replied as they pulled into the parking lot of the motel.
“That’s ridiculous,” Jessie said, shaking her head as she threw the car in park.
“And what’s so ridiculous about it?” Roman asked. “Do you really think it’s so out of the bounds of reason that someone like Michelle Abbott might find me attractive?”
“Yes, I do,” Jessie said, looking the man up and down and trying not to think about how handsome he was. He could have been Ryan Gosling, for all she cared. His attitude would have still killed any connection the two might share. “But that’s not what I meant. I think it’s ridiculous that you’d find someone like Michelle Abbott attractive. She’s awful.”
“You don’t even know her,” Roman said, turning back to Jessie.
“I do know her. We went to high school together. She made everyone’s life a living hell.”
“Everyone or you?” Roman asked pointedly. “Besides, you’re talking about a long time ago. She’s not the same person she was in high school. None of us are.”
“I’m a detective. I’ll believe that when I see evidence of it,” Jessie said.
“That’s kind of adorable,” Roman said, laughing.
“Shut up,” Jessie said.
“It’s not that big of a deal. I saw her at the grocery store last week and she asked me out. I figured it might be fun.”
“She asked you out?” Jessie asked before she could stop herself.
“She did,” Roman said. “You know, I’m starting to think I was wrong before. Maybe you are a little jealous of her.”
“You wish,” Jessie said.
“What if I did?” Roman asked.
Jessie stared at him for a long moment, unsure of what to say. Could he actually be serious about any of this? Could he really want her to be interested in him in that way?
Jessie shook her head. Of course not. He was just doing what he always did, messing around to get a rise out of her. She wasn’t about to give it to him this time.
“Very smooth,” she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “Now let’s go find Lara before she starts using your last name at the post office too.”
“Oh, God,” Roman said.
“That was just a joke. They don’t even ask for ID at the post office,” Jessie said.
“Not that,” Roman said, pointing up to the roof of the motel. “I’m talking about the woman standing at the edge of the roof, ready to jump. That’s her, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Jessie said, recognizing the woman as Lara. “Come on. We have to move quickly!”
6
Jessie took in the situation with a racing heart and a sweaty brow. There was something about the look in Lara’s eyes, in the way she spoke to her, that let Jessie know that she was up against a ticking clock if she wanted to save her. As she neared the motel, looking up at the woman standing so close to the edge of the roof, she realized she was almost out of time.
“She’s gonna jump,” Roman said, keeping pace with Jessie, his eyes plastered onto the apparently suicidal woman and his mouth turned down with worry.
“Not if I can help it,” Jessie said, scanning the motel for a staircase or an elevator, any way that might lead her up. “She obviously hasn’t been up there long. Otherwise, she would have drawn a crowd. Hopefully, we can use that to our advantage. People who are thinking about killing themselves like this are either looking for attention or coming to grips with being at the end of their rope. Either scenario takes some time.”
“You said she was running from someone,” Roman answered, s
till looking at her as he and Jessie came to a stop in front of the motel. “That doesn’t strike me as someone who’d want to garner attention.”
“Good point,” Jessie said. “I guess that means we have to hope her rope is long enough for me to get up there.”
“Us,” Roman said. “I’m coming with you.”
“Not a good idea,” Jessie said without missing a beat. “I need you to stay down here, get her attention, and talk to her. She has a connection with you.”
“I still have no idea what the connection is,” Roman said. “I don’t recognize her.”
“It doesn’t matter if you understand it, at least for now. The important thing is that she believes it’s there. You can use that. Buy me some time, and I’ll get up there.”
“I’ll do my best,” Roman said as Jessie rushed toward the closest stairwell she could find.
“I’ve got faith in you,” Jessie muttered as she took off.
Grabbing the door marked Stairs, she pulled it open and bolted upward. The inside of this stairwell reeked of marijuana and that sickeningly sweet vape stuff that seemed to be everywhere these days. Jessie wrinkled her nose in disgust and tried to hold her breath as much as she could. It wasn’t easy, and it wouldn’t be practical, given the fact that this hotel was five stories tall and Jessie needed to run up every one of them as quickly as possible.
She huffed as she made it up to the fourth floor. The door opened, and a pair of twenty-something kids stumbled in, stinking of cheap beer and kissing each other frantically.
“Get the hell out of the stairwell!” Jessie said as she passed them, flashing her badge and practically growling at them. She didn’t wait for them to do as she asked. Instead, she kept running and trusted in the fact that kids who were probably both drunk and high didn’t want anything to do with the angry policewoman barking orders at them as she sprinted away.