Bayou Born, page 9
The trill of an old-fashioned rotary phone lifted gooseflesh down my arms, a Pavlovian response that set my pulse sprinting like a thoroughbred through the starting gate at Churchill Downs.
Turning away, oblivious to my near-heart attack, Cole unclipped a thick, black phone from his belt and pressed it against the side of his face. “What did I tell you about dicking around with my ringtone, Santiago?”
The panicked breath trapped in my chest released in a dizzying gust. Get it together, Luce. Millions of people use that ringtone. All things old are new again. You can’t jump out of your skin every time you hear it.
“You’ve been taken off the Claremont case. It’s been reassigned to Special Agent Farhan Kapoor of the FBI.”
“What?” I startled out of my daze. “How can you possibly know that? I found out five minutes ago.”
“Is it my fault?” Cole put away the phone and glowered down at me. “Are you being punished for what happened earlier?”
“No.” I cobbled my stray thoughts into a cohesive whole. “We’re a small department. Rixton and I are good at laying the groundwork. We conduct interviews, track leads, call hospitals and morgues in the surrounding areas and get the ball rolling, but we don’t have their training or access to their resources.” I twitched a shoulder. “I won’t lie. It burns. We get a twenty-fourhour window, if we’re lucky, before these cases dissolve in our hands. We’ve had our turn. It’s time to bring in the big guns.”
He worked his jaw like he wanted to disagree but set about clearing a path through the stragglers camped out in lawn chairs. Slushies from Blue Hippo filled many a drink holder, and the scent of microwave burritos and nachos heavy on the jalapenos peppered the air.
“Gah.” I entered the hospital and tucked my nose against my shoulder when the disinfectant tickled me into a sneezing fit. “Do all hospitals smell the same?” I wiped my watery eyes on my sleeve, at once wishing to return to the bean-and-cheese-scented portico. “Burnt Lean Cuisines and bleach.”
He skirted me and headed for the bank of elevators. “Have a grudge against hospitals?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” I kept it light. No need to explain the months and months of testing I’d undergone while doctors attempted to solve the riddle of my banding. Dad had checked me out against the advice of my doctors when their attempt to remove the one nearest my elbow resulted in eventual regeneration. Metal was not an alloy produced by the human body. I shouldn’t have regrown the missing striation, but I had inside of a week. “It’s got to be one of the more common phobias.”
“She’s on four now.” He ushered me inside the booth when a bell chimed and mashed the button for the fourth floor. “We arranged for a private room, and her medical bills are covered.”
“That’s generous.” My reflection scowled at me from the mirrorlike chrome doors, and for once I agreed with her before smoothing the irritation off my face. “Your client must have deep pockets.”
Faint creases lined the corners of his eyes. “You’d be amazed how deep everyday people can reach when a loved one’s life is on the line.”
“So you’re in security for the money.” The scowl reemerged.
“Yes.” His tone dared me to challenge him. “Why did you become a cop?”
“Not for the paycheck,” I shot back.
“Is that why you still live at home?” He towered over me. Towering was kind of his thing. “Can’t afford your own place?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but Dad had a health scare last year.” I dragged my upper teeth over my bottom lip. “I chose not to renew the lease on my apartment and moved back home so I could keep an eye on him.” I tried not to think about Jane when I said, “He’s all the family I’ve got.”
The doors slid open, and I stepped into the hall before he landed another barb.
“Her room is this way.” His fingers brushed the back of my hand but didn’t latch on. “You brought ID?”
I patted my jeans pocket. “Always.”
We rounded the corner, and my knees threatened to lock. A tall, blonde, dressed in what I was coming to regard as the White Horse uniform, stood with the long legs Santiago had promised crossed at the ankles. A foam cup with a bendy straw sticking out of the top sat at her feet, and someone had drawn flames like you might expect on a muscle car up the sides with a red pen. A Rubik’s Cube whirled in her hand, and she kept her head bent over it, the tip of her tongue peeking out of her mouth while she manipulated the puzzle to completion.
“Portia.” Cole sighed.
“One second.” Three more twists of her wrists, and she took a bow, the finished cube sitting on her open palm. “Ta da!”
He lifted the toy for examination. “Where did you get this?”
“A kid three doors down. His older brother is kind of a dick.” Her lip curled. “Gave it to him and promised if he solved it by the time visitation rolls around tomorrow that the doctors would let him go home.”
“You’re not supposed to interfere,” he murmured, returning the trinket.
“Do as you say, not as you do.” She looked straight at me. “Right?”
“Hi.” I thrust out my hand. “I’m Luce Boudreau. I thought you might want an introduction to the person you’re talking over.”
“I’m Portia.” She curtseyed, and it wasn’t a half-bad effort either. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Luce Boudreau. You’re shorter than I expected.”
“Well, you’re exactly what I expected.” I winced at how that sounded then gestured toward her legs. “Santiago said—”
“Oh, I can just imagine what Santiago told you about me. Let me know if this comes close.” She spun on her heel in a dramatic turn and fainted against Cole, pinning the back of her hand to her forehead. “Oh, Cole, it’s simply been too long since you last ravished me.” She fumbled in her pocket and produced a wrapped spork probably scavenged from the cafeteria. “Here’s a spoon. Eat me up with it.”
With a put-upon sigh, he took one calculated step back, and she hit the floor on her tailbone. “Behave.”
“Do you really think I’d tap that?” she asked me from her seat on the linoleum. “He has no sense of humor, he’s my boss, and he’s larger than some small countries.” She smoothed her hands down her curves. “It’s this body, isn’t it? It’s so hot guys leak brains out of their ears even when I’m in uniform. Or maybe especially when I’m in uniform.” A slight frown plumped her lips. “I’m going to miss that.”
This body. What was that supposed to mean? It sounded almost like something I would say, but clearly Portia was at home in her skin while mine sometimes felt more like a rental. Vanity maybe? I almost asked why she would miss her own body, it’s not like it was going anywhere, but I didn’t have time to pry open that can of worms when I had bigger fish to fry.
“I’m just here to see Jane.” I held up both hands, palms out. “It’s not my business who’s tapping what.”
“Santiago is just pissy because I felt him up one night after a few beers. I got nowhere. Seriously. I’ve held stiffer homemade noodles. Uncooked ones. We’re talking raw dough.” She scoffed. “His revenge is telling anyone who’ll listen that because I made the mistake of wanting him to scratch my itch that one time that I have claws in all the guys.”
“Pretty sure they make a cream for that.” I cringed away from her frankness. “Lucky you, you’re in the right place to get a prescription.”
“You’re so cute with your blushing and your manners.” She mimed pinching my cheeks. “You have no idea how much I’m loving this.” She made a frame with her fingers and squared it up on my face. “Let me savor this moment.”
I took a careful step out of arm’s reach and backed into Cole. “Is weird a résumé requirement for you?”
“You have no idea.” Leaning over Portia, he opened the door to expose Jane resting comfortably under the covers. “Step over her.” He toed Portia’s thigh. “Or on her. I don’t care which.”
“Excuse me.” I stepped over Portia, who was still grinning at me, and approached the bed. Cole was a warm wall at my back as I drank in the sight of her. “There’s more color in her cheeks today. Maybe she’ll feel like talking.”
“Are you hoping she has answers for you?” The heat of him enveloped my spine. “I can promise she has none you’ll want to hear.”
“My whole life people have looked at me and talked about me like I was a prize-winning science fair project. That reporter today? Do you know why he did what he did?” Clenching my fists, I kept them balled at my sides. “He did it because he doesn’t look at me and see a person. I’m a thing to him.” I couldn’t bear to look back at Cole. “You saw me when he . . . you didn’t stare like the others, but you must have seen.” I swept a hand out toward Jane. “Look at her. We’re the same. For the first time . . . ” My shoulders hunched. “Please, don’t smash my hope.”
“I apologize.” He retreated. “Take all the time you need.”
Years of longing for a connection, any connection, to my past tightened my throat when I might have thanked him for wanting to spare me from the razor edge of hope that so often cut those who wielded it.
Cole shut the door behind him, and a muted conversation struck up in the hall.
I soaked in the gentle wave to Jane’s hair, the dark lashes resting on her cheeks, the gauntness of her jaw. I too had been little more than skin and bones when Dad found me. But I had been around ten or eleven, as best as the doctors could tell. Jane was closer to my current age.
“Who are you?” I asked the question of the quiet room. And who does that make me?
Jane didn’t offer me an answer. She didn’t so much as flutter an eyelash.
An itch started under my skin the longer I remained in the room, not the pins-and-needles pain that assaulted me each year on my birthday, but a lesser irritation. Time and time again, I had to wrench my gaze from her bare arms by reminding myself how much I hated when people stared at me.
The better part of two hours slipped past before I started feeling like a creeper and decided it was best if I went home. The reassignment of the Claremont case meant I had no pressing business for the rest of the night. I wondered if Santiago would mind stopping at the local Thai place for carryout so I didn’t have to cook. I wasn’t in the mood, and Dad couldn’t boil an egg. Not unless you wanted it rubbery enough to pass for a bouncy ball.
Leaving Jane behind, I reentered the hall and bumped right into Portia. “Where’s Cole?”
“He went to handle your clearance with hospital security.” She plucked at the front of my shirt. “Tell anyone who asks that you’re consulting for White Horse.”
I readjusted the fit. “I’m not going to lie.”
Laughter exploded from her, and she bent at the waist. “You slay me.”
“Leave her alone.” The quiet order bounced off the blonde, who kept hooting. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah.” Nothing about the past two days felt real. The supergator attack, finding Jane and meeting Cole and his peculiar crew, all of it had a dreamlike quality. Tomorrow I might wake up to discover it had all been imagined, that wishes didn’t come true when you blew out candles. “Would you mind making a pit stop before you drop me at home?”
“That reminds me.” He held out his hand. “Keys.” I passed them over, and he tossed them to Portia. “Drop Luce’s Bronco off at her place.”
The mischievous curl of her lip disturbed me. “How does Portia know what my Bronco looks like? Or where I live?”
“It’s black,” he continued on as if I hadn’t interrupted, “and it’ll be the only vehicle parked at Hannigan’s at that time of morning.” After a pointed look at me, he added, “I’ll text the GPS coordinates.”
I anchored my fists at my hips. “You’re almost as good at covering your ass as you are at being an ass.”
Portia launched into peals of laughter again.
Cole only smiled, but its duration made me squirm.
“Newsflash, Cole,” Portia sing-songed behind him, rapping her knuckles on the back of his skull. “Fire is hot.”
The oddness of her statement broke our stalemate. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That people don’t change,” he told me, bitterness a tang on his breath. “That no matter how many times you stick your hand through the flames, you’ll still get burned.”
Unsure what any of that had to do with me, I shrugged. “Pretty sure they make a cream for that too.”
Portia’s belly laugh bounced off the walls and ceiling, and she dabbed her eyes with her shirtsleeve.
Maybe I would invite her in for breakfast when she swung by to drop off the Bronco. We could bond over egg-white omelets with low-fat cheddar cheese, and she could explain why she found everything I said or did hilarious. Sure, I liked to think of myself as funny. Who didn’t? But today I hadn’t been trying. Yet I could barely string two words together before her face split in a grin. Of one thing I had no doubt. She wasn’t laughing with me; she was laughing at me.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I was mulling over the menu at Thai-Thai For Now when my cell rang. I checked the caller ID, frowned and walked to a quiet corner of the bustling restaurant. Cole shadowed me, but I had given up on the expectation of privacy around him. “Justin. Hi. How was your trip?”
He wasted no time on pleasantries. “Have you heard from Maggie?”
“No.” I winced at the sudden weight of her forgotten phone in my back pocket. “But that’s my fault.”
“Your fault how?”
“We had a girls’ day out yesterday, a late birthday thing, and she ended up staying over last night. She left her phone in the downstairs bathroom this morning, and I meant to drop it by the school, but I got sidetracked.”
“We were due at my parents for dinner twenty minutes ago.” Crickets sang in the background. He must be standing on their back porch. “She didn’t come home from work today.”
“Have you checked with Pilar? Was the big K4/K5 powwow this week or last week?” I tapped the menu against my knee. “Those ladies get competitive with their monthly hall themes. Could she be holed up in her classroom with her Cricut?”
“That was last week,” he said with the conviction of a man invested in his partner’s life. “This isn’t like her, Luce. Maggie would have called if she was going to run late.”
A kernel of ice budded in my heart. “What do you need?”
“I’m not sure.” A door closed, and the nature sounds hushed. “Where are you?”
“I’m in town.” I ignored Cole when he crowded me. “I’m ten minutes from the school. Less than that if I drive instead of walk. Want me to go bang on some doors?”
“I don’t want to put you out.” His frustration only galvanized me. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Maggie is my best friend.” I caught Cole’s eye and started walking. “Anything you need, I’m your girl.”
“Good. Okay. Thanks.” He exhaled softly. “You check the school. I’ll make some calls. I’ll start with Pilar and work my way down to her parents.”
“Keep calm. I’ll touch base with you within the hour.” Justin ended the call sounding less harried. “Looks like I have one more stop to make.” I found Cole lurking behind me. “This is where we say goodnight.”
There existed within me a wellspring of clinical detachment I could access during emergencies. Once I tapped into that place of cool logic, it shut down my fear and panic and squeamishness. It allowed me to function with a clear head and postpone the emotional fallout until later. Now, for Maggie’s sake, I grabbed hold of that Zen with both hands.
“Where do you need to go?” His gaze tagged the road leading to the school. He must have pieced together the location based on my end of the conversation. No one’s hearing was that acute. “I’ll take you.”
“You’ve done enough.” I took stock of my surroundings through that clear lens, and the worry retreated another few centimeters. Hannigan’s wasn’t that far, but Cole had already passed my keys off to Portia, and the spare had been lost to the depths of the couch months ago. “I can’t afford to pay you to babysit me. I’ll have to weather the revival of Wild Child Mania on my own.” As usual. “Might as well start now.”
“A man assaulted you earlier. You’re not going anywhere alone.” Dusk had fallen since we entered the restaurant, and a blanket of stars waited beyond the bruised clouds to roll across the sky. “You can’t afford to pay me enough not to babysit you if you’re dead set on walking.”
Red lights flashed in my periphery, and the SUV rolled back before Cole finished barking at me.
“Where do you two think you’re going?” Santiago glared at my empty hands. “And where is my order of kanom gui chai?”
“Your chive cakes will have to wait,” I informed him, then started walking.
“Cole. You’re not serious. Fuck.” He smacked his open palm against the door then pointed at me. “This SUV turns into a pumpkin at midnight, princess.” He looked at me, really saw me, as if he viewed me from the opposite end of that same frigid lens. A flicker of emotion I might have labeled as fear twisted his features before he dialed up his bravado to cover the slip. “You and your glass slippers better get clip-clopping if you want to make the deadline.”
“We’re walking.” Cole snapped his fingers. “Follow at a distance. Keep an eye out for—”
“Don’t tell me how to do my job.” He jabbed the button to raise the window with one hand and cranked up the radio with the other. Through the glass he mouthed, Tick tock.
“Are we walking?” Cole swept his gaze over me, searching for whatever Santiago had glimpsed, but he didn’t flinch away from what he saw. “Or should I call him back?”
I set out down the sidewalk, the ice in my chest expanding and contracting like a living, breathing thing, and I didn’t check to see if he followed.
Five minutes later, Cole gripped my hand to stop me. He crossed to the next cement square and squatted over a dark spill on the sidewalk. He faced away from me, but his back expanded as though he were drawing air deep into his lungs.
Turning away, oblivious to my near-heart attack, Cole unclipped a thick, black phone from his belt and pressed it against the side of his face. “What did I tell you about dicking around with my ringtone, Santiago?”
The panicked breath trapped in my chest released in a dizzying gust. Get it together, Luce. Millions of people use that ringtone. All things old are new again. You can’t jump out of your skin every time you hear it.
“You’ve been taken off the Claremont case. It’s been reassigned to Special Agent Farhan Kapoor of the FBI.”
“What?” I startled out of my daze. “How can you possibly know that? I found out five minutes ago.”
“Is it my fault?” Cole put away the phone and glowered down at me. “Are you being punished for what happened earlier?”
“No.” I cobbled my stray thoughts into a cohesive whole. “We’re a small department. Rixton and I are good at laying the groundwork. We conduct interviews, track leads, call hospitals and morgues in the surrounding areas and get the ball rolling, but we don’t have their training or access to their resources.” I twitched a shoulder. “I won’t lie. It burns. We get a twenty-fourhour window, if we’re lucky, before these cases dissolve in our hands. We’ve had our turn. It’s time to bring in the big guns.”
He worked his jaw like he wanted to disagree but set about clearing a path through the stragglers camped out in lawn chairs. Slushies from Blue Hippo filled many a drink holder, and the scent of microwave burritos and nachos heavy on the jalapenos peppered the air.
“Gah.” I entered the hospital and tucked my nose against my shoulder when the disinfectant tickled me into a sneezing fit. “Do all hospitals smell the same?” I wiped my watery eyes on my sleeve, at once wishing to return to the bean-and-cheese-scented portico. “Burnt Lean Cuisines and bleach.”
He skirted me and headed for the bank of elevators. “Have a grudge against hospitals?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” I kept it light. No need to explain the months and months of testing I’d undergone while doctors attempted to solve the riddle of my banding. Dad had checked me out against the advice of my doctors when their attempt to remove the one nearest my elbow resulted in eventual regeneration. Metal was not an alloy produced by the human body. I shouldn’t have regrown the missing striation, but I had inside of a week. “It’s got to be one of the more common phobias.”
“She’s on four now.” He ushered me inside the booth when a bell chimed and mashed the button for the fourth floor. “We arranged for a private room, and her medical bills are covered.”
“That’s generous.” My reflection scowled at me from the mirrorlike chrome doors, and for once I agreed with her before smoothing the irritation off my face. “Your client must have deep pockets.”
Faint creases lined the corners of his eyes. “You’d be amazed how deep everyday people can reach when a loved one’s life is on the line.”
“So you’re in security for the money.” The scowl reemerged.
“Yes.” His tone dared me to challenge him. “Why did you become a cop?”
“Not for the paycheck,” I shot back.
“Is that why you still live at home?” He towered over me. Towering was kind of his thing. “Can’t afford your own place?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but Dad had a health scare last year.” I dragged my upper teeth over my bottom lip. “I chose not to renew the lease on my apartment and moved back home so I could keep an eye on him.” I tried not to think about Jane when I said, “He’s all the family I’ve got.”
The doors slid open, and I stepped into the hall before he landed another barb.
“Her room is this way.” His fingers brushed the back of my hand but didn’t latch on. “You brought ID?”
I patted my jeans pocket. “Always.”
We rounded the corner, and my knees threatened to lock. A tall, blonde, dressed in what I was coming to regard as the White Horse uniform, stood with the long legs Santiago had promised crossed at the ankles. A foam cup with a bendy straw sticking out of the top sat at her feet, and someone had drawn flames like you might expect on a muscle car up the sides with a red pen. A Rubik’s Cube whirled in her hand, and she kept her head bent over it, the tip of her tongue peeking out of her mouth while she manipulated the puzzle to completion.
“Portia.” Cole sighed.
“One second.” Three more twists of her wrists, and she took a bow, the finished cube sitting on her open palm. “Ta da!”
He lifted the toy for examination. “Where did you get this?”
“A kid three doors down. His older brother is kind of a dick.” Her lip curled. “Gave it to him and promised if he solved it by the time visitation rolls around tomorrow that the doctors would let him go home.”
“You’re not supposed to interfere,” he murmured, returning the trinket.
“Do as you say, not as you do.” She looked straight at me. “Right?”
“Hi.” I thrust out my hand. “I’m Luce Boudreau. I thought you might want an introduction to the person you’re talking over.”
“I’m Portia.” She curtseyed, and it wasn’t a half-bad effort either. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Luce Boudreau. You’re shorter than I expected.”
“Well, you’re exactly what I expected.” I winced at how that sounded then gestured toward her legs. “Santiago said—”
“Oh, I can just imagine what Santiago told you about me. Let me know if this comes close.” She spun on her heel in a dramatic turn and fainted against Cole, pinning the back of her hand to her forehead. “Oh, Cole, it’s simply been too long since you last ravished me.” She fumbled in her pocket and produced a wrapped spork probably scavenged from the cafeteria. “Here’s a spoon. Eat me up with it.”
With a put-upon sigh, he took one calculated step back, and she hit the floor on her tailbone. “Behave.”
“Do you really think I’d tap that?” she asked me from her seat on the linoleum. “He has no sense of humor, he’s my boss, and he’s larger than some small countries.” She smoothed her hands down her curves. “It’s this body, isn’t it? It’s so hot guys leak brains out of their ears even when I’m in uniform. Or maybe especially when I’m in uniform.” A slight frown plumped her lips. “I’m going to miss that.”
This body. What was that supposed to mean? It sounded almost like something I would say, but clearly Portia was at home in her skin while mine sometimes felt more like a rental. Vanity maybe? I almost asked why she would miss her own body, it’s not like it was going anywhere, but I didn’t have time to pry open that can of worms when I had bigger fish to fry.
“I’m just here to see Jane.” I held up both hands, palms out. “It’s not my business who’s tapping what.”
“Santiago is just pissy because I felt him up one night after a few beers. I got nowhere. Seriously. I’ve held stiffer homemade noodles. Uncooked ones. We’re talking raw dough.” She scoffed. “His revenge is telling anyone who’ll listen that because I made the mistake of wanting him to scratch my itch that one time that I have claws in all the guys.”
“Pretty sure they make a cream for that.” I cringed away from her frankness. “Lucky you, you’re in the right place to get a prescription.”
“You’re so cute with your blushing and your manners.” She mimed pinching my cheeks. “You have no idea how much I’m loving this.” She made a frame with her fingers and squared it up on my face. “Let me savor this moment.”
I took a careful step out of arm’s reach and backed into Cole. “Is weird a résumé requirement for you?”
“You have no idea.” Leaning over Portia, he opened the door to expose Jane resting comfortably under the covers. “Step over her.” He toed Portia’s thigh. “Or on her. I don’t care which.”
“Excuse me.” I stepped over Portia, who was still grinning at me, and approached the bed. Cole was a warm wall at my back as I drank in the sight of her. “There’s more color in her cheeks today. Maybe she’ll feel like talking.”
“Are you hoping she has answers for you?” The heat of him enveloped my spine. “I can promise she has none you’ll want to hear.”
“My whole life people have looked at me and talked about me like I was a prize-winning science fair project. That reporter today? Do you know why he did what he did?” Clenching my fists, I kept them balled at my sides. “He did it because he doesn’t look at me and see a person. I’m a thing to him.” I couldn’t bear to look back at Cole. “You saw me when he . . . you didn’t stare like the others, but you must have seen.” I swept a hand out toward Jane. “Look at her. We’re the same. For the first time . . . ” My shoulders hunched. “Please, don’t smash my hope.”
“I apologize.” He retreated. “Take all the time you need.”
Years of longing for a connection, any connection, to my past tightened my throat when I might have thanked him for wanting to spare me from the razor edge of hope that so often cut those who wielded it.
Cole shut the door behind him, and a muted conversation struck up in the hall.
I soaked in the gentle wave to Jane’s hair, the dark lashes resting on her cheeks, the gauntness of her jaw. I too had been little more than skin and bones when Dad found me. But I had been around ten or eleven, as best as the doctors could tell. Jane was closer to my current age.
“Who are you?” I asked the question of the quiet room. And who does that make me?
Jane didn’t offer me an answer. She didn’t so much as flutter an eyelash.
An itch started under my skin the longer I remained in the room, not the pins-and-needles pain that assaulted me each year on my birthday, but a lesser irritation. Time and time again, I had to wrench my gaze from her bare arms by reminding myself how much I hated when people stared at me.
The better part of two hours slipped past before I started feeling like a creeper and decided it was best if I went home. The reassignment of the Claremont case meant I had no pressing business for the rest of the night. I wondered if Santiago would mind stopping at the local Thai place for carryout so I didn’t have to cook. I wasn’t in the mood, and Dad couldn’t boil an egg. Not unless you wanted it rubbery enough to pass for a bouncy ball.
Leaving Jane behind, I reentered the hall and bumped right into Portia. “Where’s Cole?”
“He went to handle your clearance with hospital security.” She plucked at the front of my shirt. “Tell anyone who asks that you’re consulting for White Horse.”
I readjusted the fit. “I’m not going to lie.”
Laughter exploded from her, and she bent at the waist. “You slay me.”
“Leave her alone.” The quiet order bounced off the blonde, who kept hooting. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah.” Nothing about the past two days felt real. The supergator attack, finding Jane and meeting Cole and his peculiar crew, all of it had a dreamlike quality. Tomorrow I might wake up to discover it had all been imagined, that wishes didn’t come true when you blew out candles. “Would you mind making a pit stop before you drop me at home?”
“That reminds me.” He held out his hand. “Keys.” I passed them over, and he tossed them to Portia. “Drop Luce’s Bronco off at her place.”
The mischievous curl of her lip disturbed me. “How does Portia know what my Bronco looks like? Or where I live?”
“It’s black,” he continued on as if I hadn’t interrupted, “and it’ll be the only vehicle parked at Hannigan’s at that time of morning.” After a pointed look at me, he added, “I’ll text the GPS coordinates.”
I anchored my fists at my hips. “You’re almost as good at covering your ass as you are at being an ass.”
Portia launched into peals of laughter again.
Cole only smiled, but its duration made me squirm.
“Newsflash, Cole,” Portia sing-songed behind him, rapping her knuckles on the back of his skull. “Fire is hot.”
The oddness of her statement broke our stalemate. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That people don’t change,” he told me, bitterness a tang on his breath. “That no matter how many times you stick your hand through the flames, you’ll still get burned.”
Unsure what any of that had to do with me, I shrugged. “Pretty sure they make a cream for that too.”
Portia’s belly laugh bounced off the walls and ceiling, and she dabbed her eyes with her shirtsleeve.
Maybe I would invite her in for breakfast when she swung by to drop off the Bronco. We could bond over egg-white omelets with low-fat cheddar cheese, and she could explain why she found everything I said or did hilarious. Sure, I liked to think of myself as funny. Who didn’t? But today I hadn’t been trying. Yet I could barely string two words together before her face split in a grin. Of one thing I had no doubt. She wasn’t laughing with me; she was laughing at me.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I was mulling over the menu at Thai-Thai For Now when my cell rang. I checked the caller ID, frowned and walked to a quiet corner of the bustling restaurant. Cole shadowed me, but I had given up on the expectation of privacy around him. “Justin. Hi. How was your trip?”
He wasted no time on pleasantries. “Have you heard from Maggie?”
“No.” I winced at the sudden weight of her forgotten phone in my back pocket. “But that’s my fault.”
“Your fault how?”
“We had a girls’ day out yesterday, a late birthday thing, and she ended up staying over last night. She left her phone in the downstairs bathroom this morning, and I meant to drop it by the school, but I got sidetracked.”
“We were due at my parents for dinner twenty minutes ago.” Crickets sang in the background. He must be standing on their back porch. “She didn’t come home from work today.”
“Have you checked with Pilar? Was the big K4/K5 powwow this week or last week?” I tapped the menu against my knee. “Those ladies get competitive with their monthly hall themes. Could she be holed up in her classroom with her Cricut?”
“That was last week,” he said with the conviction of a man invested in his partner’s life. “This isn’t like her, Luce. Maggie would have called if she was going to run late.”
A kernel of ice budded in my heart. “What do you need?”
“I’m not sure.” A door closed, and the nature sounds hushed. “Where are you?”
“I’m in town.” I ignored Cole when he crowded me. “I’m ten minutes from the school. Less than that if I drive instead of walk. Want me to go bang on some doors?”
“I don’t want to put you out.” His frustration only galvanized me. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Maggie is my best friend.” I caught Cole’s eye and started walking. “Anything you need, I’m your girl.”
“Good. Okay. Thanks.” He exhaled softly. “You check the school. I’ll make some calls. I’ll start with Pilar and work my way down to her parents.”
“Keep calm. I’ll touch base with you within the hour.” Justin ended the call sounding less harried. “Looks like I have one more stop to make.” I found Cole lurking behind me. “This is where we say goodnight.”
There existed within me a wellspring of clinical detachment I could access during emergencies. Once I tapped into that place of cool logic, it shut down my fear and panic and squeamishness. It allowed me to function with a clear head and postpone the emotional fallout until later. Now, for Maggie’s sake, I grabbed hold of that Zen with both hands.
“Where do you need to go?” His gaze tagged the road leading to the school. He must have pieced together the location based on my end of the conversation. No one’s hearing was that acute. “I’ll take you.”
“You’ve done enough.” I took stock of my surroundings through that clear lens, and the worry retreated another few centimeters. Hannigan’s wasn’t that far, but Cole had already passed my keys off to Portia, and the spare had been lost to the depths of the couch months ago. “I can’t afford to pay you to babysit me. I’ll have to weather the revival of Wild Child Mania on my own.” As usual. “Might as well start now.”
“A man assaulted you earlier. You’re not going anywhere alone.” Dusk had fallen since we entered the restaurant, and a blanket of stars waited beyond the bruised clouds to roll across the sky. “You can’t afford to pay me enough not to babysit you if you’re dead set on walking.”
Red lights flashed in my periphery, and the SUV rolled back before Cole finished barking at me.
“Where do you two think you’re going?” Santiago glared at my empty hands. “And where is my order of kanom gui chai?”
“Your chive cakes will have to wait,” I informed him, then started walking.
“Cole. You’re not serious. Fuck.” He smacked his open palm against the door then pointed at me. “This SUV turns into a pumpkin at midnight, princess.” He looked at me, really saw me, as if he viewed me from the opposite end of that same frigid lens. A flicker of emotion I might have labeled as fear twisted his features before he dialed up his bravado to cover the slip. “You and your glass slippers better get clip-clopping if you want to make the deadline.”
“We’re walking.” Cole snapped his fingers. “Follow at a distance. Keep an eye out for—”
“Don’t tell me how to do my job.” He jabbed the button to raise the window with one hand and cranked up the radio with the other. Through the glass he mouthed, Tick tock.
“Are we walking?” Cole swept his gaze over me, searching for whatever Santiago had glimpsed, but he didn’t flinch away from what he saw. “Or should I call him back?”
I set out down the sidewalk, the ice in my chest expanding and contracting like a living, breathing thing, and I didn’t check to see if he followed.
Five minutes later, Cole gripped my hand to stop me. He crossed to the next cement square and squatted over a dark spill on the sidewalk. He faced away from me, but his back expanded as though he were drawing air deep into his lungs.
