by Mark Stone
“Yes, but that was before I—”
“Before you what?” Clint asked sharply, narrowing his eyes even more as he walked toward his daughter. “Were you going to say ‘before you got to know him’?”
“Of course not,” Jessie muttered. “At least, not in the way you’re insinuating. I’ve been looking into him. I’ve been studying what he’s done since he got to the island and what it looks like. This isn’t it.”
Clint shook his head. “Do I need to ask you if this man has gotten into your head?”
“You’re being ridiculous,” Jessie said.
“Am I? He’s buying you flowers. He’s asking you out. If you were in high school, I’d think he wanted to go steady,” Clint replied.
“We’re not in high school, though, and I’m not some girl with a crush,” Jessie replied.
“It’s not your feelings that concern me,” Clint said. “Unless, of course, they’re clouding your judgment.”
“This is my case,” Jessie said, “and I’m following my gut.”
“Fair enough,” Clint said. “I’m assuming your gut is telling you that Salazar is in the clear on this?”
“On this? Yes. On almost anything else? I doubt it,” Jessie said. “But think about it. Nearly everything about this case has pointed at Roman Parks. Lara said his name in the house and again before she died. She checked into the motel using his last name, and now we find that the emails being sent to Lara came from Roman’s personal email account.”
“If he were a different person, that might be considered evidence,” Clint said.
Jessie huffed, barely batting down the anger that rose up in her at that statement. “Just how many boys do you think are clouding my judgement today, Dad?”
“I just want to make sure you’re thinking straight,” Clint said.
“Are you?” Jessie asked. “This would be evidence, yeah. And do you know what I’d say about the person who left this evidence? I’d say he’s the stupidest criminal in the history of the world, Dad. Roman is a detective. If he were going to kill someone, he’d know better than to leave all these loose ends. More than that, he’d know better than to kill someone, and I can’t believe you’re suggesting it.”
“I’m not suggesting it,” Clint replied. “I just want you to look at things as they are. There is mounting evidence that says Roman Parks is involved in all of this, including the word of a drug dealer who would swear he was his supplier.”
“I was there when Lara was killed!” Jessie shouted.
“So was Roman,” Clint replied. “Based on your report, you were standing behind Lara. That’s why you didn’t see who shot her. Based on the coroner’s report, the bullet that killed her came from an angle close to the one where Roman was standing at the time.”
“Those findings have a wide berth, and you know it,” Jessie said, pointing at her father. “Also, are you forgetting that I was there when Roman was run over?”
“By a person you claim is named Mickey,” Clint said. “Of course, I haven’t forgotten. You also told me that Brendan said Mickey works for Roman.”
“And if he did that, then why would he try to kill him?” Jessie asked.
“People try to kill their bosses all the time,” Clint said. “Besides, you said he wasn’t trying to kill Roman. You said he was aiming for you.”
“Dad,” Jessie said, her voice breaking. “Dad, you can’t be serious right now.”
“I’m not saying I believe he’s responsible,” Clint said with sad eyes. “I’m just saying that with a murder like this, there’s going to be pressure to kind the killer. I’m not going to be able to ignore this much evidence for long, even if it is against a cop.”
“He’s not a cop. He’s Roman!” Jessie shot back.
“You never went into the gas station before it blew up. Is that right?” Clint asked.
“That’s right,” Jessie said.
“And you told me that Roman didn’t want to go into the station. You said he wanted you both to stay in the car. Is that right?”
“What are you getting at?” Jessie asked her father.
“You wanted me to tell you what we found in the rubble,” Clint said. “We found this.”
He pulled a charred piece of plastic from his pocket. Jessie looked it over as she took it.
“Is this Roman’s driver’s license?” Jessie asked, her eyes widening.
“It is,” Clint said. “So, seeing as how neither of you went into the gas station before it exploded, would you like to tell me how his license got inside?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Jessie said, her head spinning. “But I know he didn’t do this.” She tossed the license on the table and fished her keys out of her pocket, thinking about the flowers she received, the letter that came with them, and the time and date.
“Where are you going?” Clint asked.
“Oh, Dad,” she said gently, patting the man on the cheek and thinking about Edgar Salazar. “To do something you’re not going to like.”
22
There was something about walking into the restaurant that made Jessie feel cheap. It wasn’t the eatery itself. Far from it. La Jeté was the only French place on Sanibel, and it was about as pricey a place as Jessie had ever set foot in. She could tell from the stares she got from both the maître d’ and the throngs of people waiting to be seated that she was insanely underdressed.
While others wore designer gowns and dinner jackets, Jessie came strutting in wearing a pair of jeans, a tank top, and a thin leather jacket. She had no heels on, opting instead for the comfortable sneakers she wore whenever at work.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t dress up. Jessie had been invited to the governor's mansion up in Illinois more than once. She knew her way around a ball gown. It was just that something her father said kept tickling the back of her mind. Though she didn’t think it was the case, there was an outside chance that Edgar Salazar was nursing something of an infatuation with her. Walking in to meet him dressed to the nines really wouldn’t help matters if that was the case. It might send the wrong message, and Jessie wanted to be as clear with her attire as she had been on the phone. She was meeting him for information, to help her with this case, nothing more.
Of course, the people at La Jeté didn’t know that, and as the man at the host booth walked toward her, his nose turned up as though she smelled of rotting fish, she wished she would have at least run a comb through her hair.
“I am painfully sure that you’re in the wrong place, my dear,” the man said, coming to a stop in front of her and looking her up and down. Judging from the look on his face, he didn’t approve of anything he saw. “I don’t think there’s a Sears on this island, but I’m sure that if I’m incorrect, you can find it on your own. Let me help you get started.” He started motioning toward the door.
“That’s not something you want to do,” Jessie said, grabbing the man’s hand right before he was about to push her out.
“Right. I understand,” the man said. “I’m sure you’re a big deal in bowling alleys and pool halls, but we serve a different sort of clientele here, ma’am. Please, just take my advice and crawl back to the nearest TGI Friday’s.”
“Well, now you’ve insulted Sears and TGI Friday’s, and I don’t think that’s something I can take lying down,” Jessie replied.
“Make this easy for yourself. Otherwise, I’m going to have to call the police,” the man said.
Jessie chuckled loudly. “That is definitely something you should do. I would love to see you call the police. In fact, I’ll wait until they get here.”
A second man ran up and whispered into the other man’s ear. He somehow looked even snootier than the first man. Jessie couldn’t help but grin as the first man’s eyes widened in terror and recognition.
“A thousand apologies, Madame. I had no idea you were a special guest of our most special guest,” the man said, standing aside to allow Jessie to walk past.
“I figured that might change things,” Je
ssie said. “And, word to the wise. The next time you threaten to call the cops, you should probably do it from an establishment that doesn’t idolize and uphold this island’s worst criminals. I’m sure even the people at TGI Friday’s would look down on that.”
The man glared at her. Jessie could tell he wanted to say something, but that sniveling mouth never opened. Jessie followed the second man to a table near the back where Edgar Salazar was sitting.
The man was dressed every bit as nicely as the others in the restaurant. Though, when he looked up to see Jessie, his face didn’t register any sort of reaction to what she was wearing. Instead, a troublingly warm smile graced his face. He stood, walked around, and pulled her chair out.
“I would have been happy to have done that for the lady, sir,” the second man said.
“I’m sure you would have, but what kind of man would I be if I didn’t greet my date properly?” Salazar asked, nodding at the second man. “Bring us wine. We’ll have my usual, and I don’t wish to be disturbed. Bring the food and beverages silently and then make yourselves scarce. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly, Mr. Salazar,” the second man said, scurrying off like he’d just been scolded by the principal and was looking for a place to go and lick his wounds.
“What’s your usual? Widow’s heart salted with the tears of children?” Jessie asked, sitting down at the table.
“There’s that wit I was so looking forward to on our date,” Salazar said, taking his seat and placing his palms on the table.
“There you go again with this whole ‘date’ talk,” Jessie said. “I’m beginning to think you’re just doing it to get under my skin. You know what this is, Salazar.”
“I know a lot of things,” Salazar answered. “Including that you’re more intrigued by me than you’d ever allow yourself to say.”
Jessie balked, her eyebrows arching upward and her expression changing. “This is sad,” she said flatly. “If this is why I’m here, if this is the real reason you wanted me here tonight, then it’s sad. I’m a grown woman, Edgar. I’m not some wilting flower who doesn’t have it in her to let a man down. If I were intrigued by you, a thought that threatens to send my pancakes back up, by the way, I’d be woman enough to tell you.”
“Assuming you even realized it yourself,” Salazar said. “Assuming that your interest in me didn’t speak to parts of you so well hidden that you don’t yet realize it’s there.”
“You can’t be serious. Does this nonsense work? Are you really able to convince women that they don’t know themselves well enough to be able to trust that instinct in them that says you’re a piece of crap?” She shook her head. “Come on, dude. You’ve got money, you’re not terrible looking, and you seem to hold some sway over a certain set here. I’m sure there are more than enough women who don’t love themselves enough to know better than to ever get involved with you. You don’t need to work so hard.”
Jessie leaned forward.
“Unless that’s the point,” she mused. “Unless you’re sick of getting everything so easily, of people falling over their own feet to butter your toast. Is that what this is, Edgar? Am I some prize that you never think you’re going to win? Am I a challenge?”
“You, Jessie St. James, are a kindred spirit,” he said.
“With you? You’re out of your mind,” Jessie retorted.
“Am I? Or am I right on target?” he asked. “You’re captivated by the darkness. Maybe it came from what happened to your brother, but you always have been. It’s what drew you to become a cop. It’s what sent you to the district attorney’s office and it’s what pulled you back here. You needed to be closer to it, to the darkness that spawned you. It’s even why you work so well with Mr. Parks.”
“Roman’s not dark,” Jessie said. “He might be a little bit of a troublemaker, but he’s not a bad guy. The fact that he’s lying in a hospital bed after having saved my life speaks to that.”
“I’ll admit that I haven’t jumped in front of a bullet for you, but other than that, Mr. Parks and I have more in common than you might think at first glance,” Salazar said.
“And how do you figure that, exactly?” Jessie asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
Salazar leaned forward. “You think I’m a certain type of person. Isn’t that correct?”
“If the type you’re alluding to is ‘scumbag’, then yes,” Jessie said.
“I actually meant ‘criminal’,” he answered.
“That too,” Jessie muttered.
“Well, if I am what you say I am—”
“You are,” she cut him off.
“If that’s true, I wouldn’t be the first this island has ever seen and I certainly won’t be the last,” Salazar said.
“Of course, you’re not the first,” Jessie said. “Before you seized control, you worked under someone named Weston, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Someone has been doing her homework,” Salazar mused.
“You’re right, but you’re also wrong. If I have anything to do with it, you will be the last of your kind this island ever has to deal with,” Jessie stated flatly.
“You’ll have to take your partner out first,” Salazar replied.
“Roman isn’t like you!” she said a bit louder than she should have.
Salazar threw a finger up to stop any of the waiters from coming over to the table. “If you say so,” he said. “But you must be a bit less than certain about that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”
“I’m here so you can tell me what you know,” Jessie said honestly. “Because I believe that someone is trying to frame Roman for all of this. I just can’t figure out who or why, but never for a second have I ever thought that he was actually responsible for any of this,” Jessie said.
“Faith is a beautiful thing,” Salazar said. “Even if it is misguided.”
“Spill, Salazar,” Jessie said. “It’s why I’m here, isn’t it? You might say you’re intrigued by me, and that might even be true. But it’s not why I’m here tonight. You want to send me running down some other rabbit hole so I keep myself out of yours. So tell me what you know.”
“I heard whispers a few months ago about a new player on the island,” Salazar said. “He was small, but he knew what he was doing. I knew he wasn’t some novice. So, I did some digging.” He winked at her. “As a concerned citizen, of course. Just trying to root out the bad people on the island.”
“Of course,” Jessie said sarcastically. “What did that digging find?”
“A deliberately small circle,” Salazar said. “Just enough to fly under my radar. Or so the person in charge thought. I tracked down a woman who claimed to be making deliveries for the person in charge, and that woman gave me a name. Roman Parks.”
“You got conned. You spoke to Lara Edwards. Whoever is trying to frame Roman wanted her to think he was behind it. She wasn’t a pro at this stuff. It doesn’t surprise me that when faced with a bit of pressure from you, she folded,” Jessie said.
“I know when I’m being conned and I know what’s happening around me,” Salazar said. “Of course I know that Roman Parks isn’t running a rival drug ring. He couldn’t run a bath. More than that, I wouldn’t have let you bounce around Savannah chasing after your own ass if the man responsible for everything was sitting dangerously close to you.”
“What?” Jessie asked, blinking hard. “You believe me about Roman?”
“I do,” he said.
“Then what the hell has this whole ‘you need to look closer at him’ garbage been about?”
“It’s good advice,” Salazar said. “Because the woman I spoke to didn’t give me just a name. She gave me dates as well.”
“Dates for what?” Jessie asked.
“Dates for when your precious Mr. Parks did deliveries for Weston,” he said flatly.
“You . . . that’s not true,” Jessie said. “Roman’s not a drug pusher.”
“He’s not much of one. I’ll give you that,” Salaz
ar said. “But that doesn’t change the fact that twelve years ago, Mr. Parks did deliveries for Weston on four separate occasions, the last of them being on May 17th.”
“May 17th of twelve years ago,” Jessie muttered, wondering why that date seemed so familiar to her. She gasped as the answer came to her. “It was the prom,” she murmured. “It was the night he stood me up for the prom.”
Quickly, Jessie stood, running a hand through her hair.
“What are you doing?” Salazar asked. “We haven’t even gotten the wine yet.”
“Drink some of it for me,” she said, rushing toward the door she’d just come in through. “I have to figure out what the hell all of this means.”
23
Jessie pulled up to Roman’s house like a hurricane headed for land. She was fast, she was determined, and she didn’t quite know what she was looking for. As hard as it was to admit, Salazar had convinced her. No. He hadn’t made her believe Roman was at the center of all of this. Even he didn’t believe that. Still, he came at her with facts about Roman’s past, and as much as she hadn’t said it, those facts made sense.
He stood her up on prom night all those years ago. It hadn’t made sense to her back then, and it still didn’t make sense, given Roman’s admission that he had a crush on her back then. Could whatever was going on here have something to do with it? Could it answer a question that had been in the back of Jessie’s mind for over a decade?
She flung the door open and darted for the front door of the house. It would certainly be locked, but luckily for her, she knew where he kept the spare key.
Diving toward the bed of mulch surrounding the third bush from the left, Jessie dug through the dried stuff until she found the box that held the key. Pulling it out, she thanked God that Roman considered her trustworthy enough to give her that information.
It wasn’t that they were the sort of friends that shared everything with each other. On the contrary, there were things that she’d never tell Roman, regardless of how close she thought they were. Still, there were things you shared with your partner, just in case things happened. Your emergency contact was one of them and the placement of your spare key was another.