Authors: Janice Cantore
14
What brought that on?
Carly shook her head as she closed the apartment door. Reeling from the sergeant’s shakedown, she whistled softly to herself and walked to the window to watch him leave. His flattop disappeared into a plain car, and in a few minutes the beige vehicle left her range of view.
Her racing heartbeat slowly returned to its normal cadence. It wasn’t the shakedown itself that ruffled her; it was the target that suddenly seemed painted on her chest.
Last night Jeff seemed to think I had the key to the universe. Now Tucker thinks I’m Jeff’s keeper.
Carly left the window and sat down at the kitchen counter. She chewed on her bottom lip and wondered how the sergeant could have known she’d met with Jeff. He hadn’t said it, but he knew.
The only answer was that Derek told him, and that made no sense. She ran her fingers through her hair and closed her eyes, alarmed by the image flashing in her mind of someone like Derek watching her and reporting back to Tucker.
The sergeant’s threats of suspension were not empty, and the thought of being watched, followed, monitored—anything like that—made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
I’m a cop, not a crook.
She grabbed her fanny pack and searched out the phone number Jeff had tossed her at the restaurant.
How could Jeff and Cinnamon possibly be connected? Are there connections between Cinnamon and Mayor Burke?
Jeff was the only one who would have any answers. She dialed the number.
“The mobile unit you have reached has not been activated or is no longer in the service area.”
“Argh,” Carly muttered. She paced and chewed her lip some more.
If I can’t find Jeff, who can I go to now?
Joe immediately came to mind, but when she phoned, his overexcited mother greeted her. Christy was on her way to the hospital in labor.
Elaine.
Carly dialed Elaine’s number as if she were grabbing onto a lifeline. A male voice answered, and it took a second before his identity registered.
“Hello?” the voice repeated.
“Nick.”
“Yeah? Carly, is that you?”
“What are you doing at Jeff’s house?”
“I got a tip about the investigation last night, and I felt Elaine would need a shoulder. I got out here just in time to watch homicide serve a search warrant. It wasn’t pretty.”
Carly bit her bottom lip as old anger flared. Of course, it was just like Nick to be the knight in shining armor! She opened her mouth to say something cutting but stopped. There was no rational reason to be angry with Nick for wanting to help Elaine.
She
wanted to help Elaine.
“Carly, you still there?”
Clenching a fist, she fought to be civil. What was going on with Jeff was so much bigger than a year-old divorce and heartache. “Yeah, I was just thinking. How’s Elaine?”
“She’s doing okay or—what’s the cliché?—as well as can be expected. The kids are confused. I thought I’d hang out and try to help.”
Help. I may need your help.
Calmer now—and thinking more clearly, she hoped—Carly felt the irony prick her somewhere in the center of her chest. Just days ago, on her birthday, she had shut the door on Nick and didn’t want to trust him on any level. But in all this mess, when she didn’t know where else to turn, he might well be the only person she could trust.
First things first—Elaine.
“Can I talk to her?”
“She just went to sleep. That’s why I’m still here. Her parents are on the way and she wanted me to keep an eye on the kids until they get here. I’d wake her, but . . .”
“No, don’t wake her. How about I just come out. I need to talk to her.”
I hate to say it, think it, or do it, but I probably need to talk to you too.
“Sure, she’d be happy to see you.”
“Does she need anything?”
“No, she’s pretty set. Her church has been very supportive, but . . . uh, I hate to ask. Can you do me a favor?”
Carly could tell by his voice he expected her to tell him to pound sand. The impulse was there; his voice alone was able to wind her up. But she needed to put her anger on the back burner, at least until she knew whether or not he could help her.
“Sure, name it.”
“Can you stop by the house and get me a change of clothes and my shaving kit? I’m a little scruffy, and I might be out here awhile longer. The spare key is still where we used to keep it.”
For the briefest of seconds, Carly flushed with fury.
How dare he ask me something like that!
But she bit her tongue and swore to keep an open mind. Closing her eyes and swallowing her pride, she responded, “Okay, I can do that. I’ll leave here in about twenty minutes, so it will be about an hour and a half before I get there.”
“Great, I really appreciate it.”
Carly hung up the phone and raised a hand to her forehead, hoping she hadn’t made the wrong decision. She hadn’t been back to the house since she’d stormed out after discovering Nick’s infidelity. Her mother and Andrea had packed up her clothes and belongings. The thought of being in the house—
their
house—lit a fire in her stomach.
She’d fled the house as if it were somehow infected. Carly shuddered, the feeling of having her heart ripped from her chest branded in her memory. The house was a painful symbol of what she thought was marital happiness. Reality had slapped her when she realized Nick was faking everything.
If he was as happy as he pretended to be, how could he cheat?
She gave him the house without contest and sought to separate herself from anything that was “them.” Nick begged her to reconsider—“At least take money,” he’d said—but she wanted nothing from him, especially money. All Carly wanted was custody of the dog. Nick kept the house, and Carly and Maddie moved to the beach.
Carly showered, changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, and inhaled a quick breakfast. She hated the idea of swallowing her pride.
This bites. I just told him to get lost the other day; now I have to talk to him.
But even at his worst, she had to admit Nick was a good cop.
When he wears that blue suit, Nick holds up the truth and enforcing the law as more important than life. He should have cared about our marriage as much as he cared about the uniform. If he’d worn his uniform twenty-four hours a day, he never would have cheated.
After gathering up the backpack that served as her purse, Carly took Maddie and trotted for the car. Maddie pranced and bounced around at the prospect of a car ride. Carly wanted company, K-9 or otherwise, as a shield between her and Nick.
A lingering paranoia from the sergeant’s visit caused Carly to scan the area surrounding her apartment for any possible surveillance before she opened the car door. Seeing nothing, she unlocked the car and let Maddie jump in first.
She’d be easy to follow if someone wanted to keep track of her. Her midnight-blue 1970 Ford Bronco stuck out in a crowd, to say the least. The older-style, boxy build of the car made it unusual. Carly bought the car as junk and restored, repainted, and modified what was now called “the dogmobile.” The truck didn’t have a backseat, just a flat, carpeted area for Maddie. When she and Nick were married, the car was to be the perfect family sport wagon.
Carly drove south on Pacific Coast Highway into Huntington Beach. A cloudy, gray, and threatening sky framed the coastline. Glancing toward the surf from time to time, she let the coast occupy her thoughts. She’d driven this way a million times but never tired of the miles of beach and surf stretching south and north endlessly. Under stormy skies the waves were more majestic than normal. Pulsating fists of blue capped in white gloves, they took her breath away. A few surfers braved the water, and she witnessed some good wipeouts as she drove along the bluffs.
When she turned inland, Maddie paced and whined in anticipation at the familiar route to the house. The dog’s first year had been spent in the house.
We waited five years to buy a house. We picked a great one, so much potential. We were supposed to spend the next twenty years in it. Ha.
It was an older house with only two bedrooms and one bath, but there was a nice yard and room for a dog. For three years, years Carly thought were perfect, they lovingly fixed the house up, spending all their free time and money at the local do-it-yourself store.
“You remember, sweetheart?” Carly cooed in a high-pitched voice to the dog, who was now standing, tail wagging ferociously as they turned in to the driveway. Maddie loved Nick.
The house looked the same, but the yard was lush, more grown and mature. Nick had done some landscaping and planted roses under the front window. They would probably be beautiful in a few weeks. Overall the place looked much better than a year ago. She parked and let Maddie out. The dog bounded up to the front door barking excitedly. In happier times Nick would have thrown open the door and grabbed the big dog in a bear hug. They would have tumbled and played on the front lawn until Nick gave in to Maddie’s inexhaustible energy supply.
Enough! No more reminiscing. I’m just getting his junk and leaving.
After calming the dog down, she found the key hidden in a small box attached to the water meter. She opened the front door. As soon as she stepped into the entryway, memories hit like a tall, gritty wave. They were happy memories of the work that went into that space. Carly remembered the day she carefully marked all the tiles and then watched while Nick just as carefully cut them. They both reverently laid each one and later celebrated their first home improvement project. She stepped forward slowly, hesitantly, as if restrained by an unseen hand.
The small living room looked the same but for a new painting Nick must have added after she moved out.
Has he finished the bathroom?
Resisting the urge to check, she shook off a mantle of discomfort and walked to the bedroom to gather Nick’s things. One wall gaped empty, the carpet still somewhat smashed where her dresser used to stand. The bed was made, covered with a new bedspread. Nick was always neat and orderly, nothing out of place.
She stopped for a moment at his dresser. There, in a shadow box, were three old badges, with an empty space for a fourth. Carly flashed back to Nick’s passion for collecting bits of police history. For the entire time they were married, he was occupied with a search for original PD badges.
The Las Playas Police Department badge design had changed four times since incorporation in 1897, the most recent design being the one officers now wore. The three badges in the shadow box were historical pieces that Nick painstakingly and patiently searched out. Missing was the first badge. Carly remembered Nick lamenting that he might never find the first, most unique badge.
He was wrong, she knew, because she had found the badge. Quite accidentally she ran into a woman whose great-grandfather had worn the silver PD star proudly. He was dead now and the woman didn’t know what to do with the badge. Carly had scarcely contained her excitement when she convinced the woman to sell it to her. She remembered the pure joy that welled up inside her when she imagined how happy Nick would be when he saw the badge. It was to be a Christmas present. But some months before Christmas, Carly had discovered his infidelity.
She’d almost thrown the badge in the trash, but something stopped her. So the star was still with her, buried somewhere deep in her closet. Tears sprang to her eyes without warning and she brushed them back. Swallowing the pain, she moved to complete the task at hand, working hard to step into the impartial, unemotional mask she wore at work.
Carly found jeans and a shirt where she expected to and filled a small gym bag. Maddie followed her every move, sniffing here and there as if looking for Nick to pop up from somewhere.
With one final glance before she left, Carly surveyed the room.
It’s so masculine. All the flowers and cozy touches are gone. I wonder if he’s still seeing her.
She pushed down a wave of jealousy, embarrassed to feel relieved when she realized that if he was still seeing her, he wouldn’t have asked Carly for his things.
It doesn’t matter. Nick is as free as I am now.
Abruptly she turned to leave the house, not wanting to go down the path her thoughts and emotions were taking her. The problem with Jeff took precedence over her personal problems.
It’s over. Leave it alone.
15
“Why can’t men be faithful?” Carly asked the question of Maddie as she pulled away from Nick’s house. Absentmindedly she scratched her companion’s head.
Memories, past and present, played in her mind throughout the long ride to the community where Elaine lived. The last time she’d driven this way, she’d been with Nick. They’d picked Jeff and Elaine up and then driven to the Colorado River. They had a great time and talked about doing the same thing again sometime. A wave of depression came over her as she turned onto Elaine’s street.
Nothing will ever be the same again, no matter what.
“Life sucks,” she declared to Maddie as she parked behind Nick’s truck. A light rain had begun to fall.
Anxiety rose in her gut and she suddenly doubted the wisdom in coming here.
How do you tell a woman whose husband is a murder suspect that he is also a cheat? What about Nick? Can I really act like nothing ever happened?
Taking a deep breath, she climbed out of her car and, together with Maddie, jogged up to Elaine’s front door.
Nick opened the door before Carly knocked and greeted them both with a warm smile. Maddie communicated her elation at seeing him by bouncing about and wagging her tail ferociously. Nick returned the affection and grabbed her in a bear hug. Watching Nick roughhouse with the dog caused Carly’s chest to tighten.
It’s not about me,
she scolded herself silently.
It’s about Elaine and Jeff.
When Nick stood up, she handed him his gym bag. She could see why he needed a change of clothes. He’d come in uniform and was now wearing only a white T-shirt and uniform pants. She remembered how often he complained about the stiffness of their issued Kevlar vests. When his shift was over, the vest always came off almost before he got to the locker room. And it was obvious he’d been up all night. His eyes were bloodshot and his jawline dark with stubble. The anger that was so close to the surface threatened to bite again. He’d dropped everything to come to Elaine’s rescue. Jealousy and self-pity swirled around in Carly’s heart like a noxious cocktail, mixing with the reminder of the depth of care he could show for friends.
“Thanks.”
They stood in the doorway facing one another, enveloped by a shroud of uncomfortable silence.
“Do you think I could come in?” she managed through a tight jaw. Something flashed across his face and Carly knew she needed to relax, to be impartial here. Rehashing their history would get them nowhere.
“Oh yeah. I’m sorry.” He stepped aside and ducked his head sheepishly. “You can let Maddie out to play with Hector.” Hector was Jeff’s German shepherd. “Elaine is still out cold,” Nick continued as he led Carly through the house. “It’s past time for me to have a shower.” He smiled as they reached the sliding door to the backyard.
Carly opened the door and Maddie raced out to play with Hector. “She’ll have a good time.”
There was a long, awkward pause, and then both Carly and Nick spoke at the same time.
“Where are the kids?” Carly asked.
“You just missed Elaine’s parents,” Nick said.
They both let out nervous chuckles. Carly stuffed the anger and gestured for Nick to continue.
“A little while ago there was a pack of reporters pestering all the neighbors, and they didn’t want the kids exposed to that. They don’t need to see or hear any garbage about their dad.”
“Jeff’s guilty until being proved innocent, the usual media line?”
“Yep, like it always is with cops.” Nick rubbed the back of his neck and regarded her soberly. “You don’t think Jeff did what they’re saying, do you?”
“I don’t believe Jeff is a killer. But he’s done some stupid things, and we have a lot to talk about.” She kept her gaze averted from him, still not comfortable being so close. “Go take your shower. I need some coffee.”
“Okay. The pot in the kitchen is fresh.” He nodded in that direction, then headed for the back part of the house, where Carly knew the guest room was. She and Nick had stayed there many times either before or after a trip.
She found the coffee and poured herself a cup. Now she felt a little guilty that she hadn’t taken steps to stay as close to Jeff and Elaine as Nick obviously had. She and Elaine had maybe talked once that year, when they’d been as close as sisters before the divorce. A thought flickered that made her sick to her stomach: just how close were Nick and Elaine?
Carly gulped down hot coffee and burning shame as she tried to stop her wandering thoughts. Nick might be scum, but Elaine wasn’t.
Now, too antsy to sit still, Carly wandered around the dining room looking at pictures of the family in happier times. Elaine was a scrapbook keeper and an avid photographer. Carly remembered how she loved to put together collages of photos in creative ways. Carly and Nick were in more than a few collections. She lingered over one photo that was taken while the four of them were on a houseboat vacation at Lake Mead. She remembered the week fondly. The four of them smiled at the camera, tanned and oblivious to the pain coming their way. Elaine had long blonde hair she often braided in a plait that would reach to her hip. In the photo, Jeff, clean shaven and tanned, jokingly held the braid under his nose as though it were a mustache. Nick, wearing only shorts and flip-flops, was behind Carly and had his arms wrapped around her with a wide grin on his face, chin resting on her shoulder. Seeing his muscled biceps in the photo brought on a memory of how they felt around her that day and how happy she’d been. She had to step away.
Moving through the room, she came across a picture of Jeff accepting the Narcotics Association award from Teresa Burke. Chief Kelly was in the picture, along with Captain Garrison and a man Carly didn’t recognize. Relieved to direct her thoughts elsewhere, she sat down at the kitchen table with the picture and tried to place the mystery face. Nick would know. While she pondered the picture, she dialed Jeff’s number again and still got a recording.
In a few minutes, Nick, clean shaven and with wet hair slicked back, joined her in the kitchen.
Gosh, why does he have to look so good?
He was thinner, but that only accentuated his muscular build. As a triathlete, Nick was primarily a swimmer like Carly but very proficient in biking and running as well. He filled out his T-shirt nicely.
Must be training for a competition. The Police and Fire Games are coming up.
His light-brown hair looked darker wet, and a few stray strands fell across his forehead. The urge to smooth them back made Carly’s hand tingle. She gulped her coffee, uncomfortable with her physical response.
“Hey, I want to thank you again for the change of clothes. I feel human now,” Nick said as he sat. His blue eyes were tired and warm, covering Carly with a gaze like a blanket.
“What’s been happening?” Carly ignored the warmth and slipped into a detective persona.
Nick stiffened and his eyes changed to flat cop eyes. “With Jeff? You said yourself, he’s done some stupid things. The stupidest is pulling this disappearing act.” He covered his face with his hands before looking up to continue in a reportlike tone. “Elaine called me about a month ago and asked me to talk to him. I tried. He’d been keeping really weird hours and told her he was deep undercover. Me, he wouldn’t confide in at all. He had this weird idea that now that I was a sergeant he couldn’t talk to me anymore.” He paused and shook his head. “We grew up together, went through a lot, and all of a sudden he’s a stranger. I didn’t know what to do.” There was frustration in his voice.
“You must have asked around.”
“I did, but even his sergeant didn’t seem to have a clue about what Jeff was doing. All I heard was vicious gossip . . . that he was involved with the mayor.” Nick paused and gave Carly what she felt was a searching look, but she dodged his gaze.
“Then Garrison and Tucker pulled me aside after Teresa’s homicide,” Nick continued with a heavy sigh. “They knew Jeff and I were friends, and they wanted to talk to him in a bad way. I couldn’t help them; Jeff seemed to have disappeared. He’d told Elaine he was going to a school in San Luis Obispo; she’s even gotten postcards from there.”
“San Luis Obispo?” Carly’s voice rose an octave with surprise.
“Yep. I asked his sergeant about it, and he knew nothing about a school up there. Jeff was simply unreachable. And now this—a dead prostitute that homicide thinks Jeff had a motive to kill.” He blew out a breath and leaned back in his chair. “Papa-doc Guest told me they were going to search the house. He thought Elaine should have some support.”
Quiet enveloped the kitchen while Carly pondered this information. Jeff wanted people to think he was far away from Las Playas. A misdirection so he could be in town running surveillance or something similar?
“Why are they so sure Jeff killed Cinnamon?” Carly asked.
“She was shot with the same-caliber gun that Jeff carries.”
“Jeff and a few hundred other cops!”
He threw his hands up. “I’m just telling you what I know—or what they wanted me to know. Homicide didn’t share the reason they’re certain the bullets were from Jeff’s gun.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Carly couldn’t fit the pieces together. Cinnamon, Jeff, Teresa—nothing made sense, and some big pieces were missing.
“When did you talk to Jeff last?” she asked, toying with her coffee mug.
“Almost a month ago now. Elaine hasn’t seen him for three weeks, but she said he called a few days ago to check on the kids.” Nick stood and poured a cup of coffee. “I know you’ve been shut up in juvenile, sort of out of the loop, but have you noticed strange things going on at work?”
“What kind of strange things?”
“The narcotics detail being virtually retired after Jeff made that one big bust down at the harbor. Other agencies are now laughing at narco. Vice also seems to be on vacation. I hear Craven’s is running amok. And now our mayor’s been murdered.”
Déjà vu. Nick sounds like Joe.
“You don’t think the mayor’s murder was solved when they arrested those two gangbangers?”
“No, I don’t.” Nick snorted. “And I know you well enough to know you don’t either. Those kids were too shocked when that trunk popped open, even in their pot-induced haze. They didn’t kill her. And I don’t believe it was a random killing either. I don’t believe in coincidences. Mayor Burke was killed for a reason. What scares me is—” he paused and took a deep breath, absentmindedly stirring sugar into his coffee cup—“that people think my best friend might have had the reason.”
“I had a visit from Sergeant Tucker before I left to come here. He thinks Jeff killed Teresa to cover up their affair.” Other words flashed in her mind—
betrayal
,
cheat
—and she ground her teeth to keep her emotions in check.
Nick stopped stirring and put the spoon down. He looked at Carly, a mixture of surprise and pain in his eyes. “I don’t believe the affair rumors. I don’t believe Jeff would cheat on Elaine, not the Jeff I knew. He was a strong Christian. He loved Elaine.”
“Oh, as if that matters!” Carly’s restraint cracked and she smacked the table with her palms, not knowing what made her angrier, the affair denial or the word
Christian
. She stood, suddenly feeling as though the kitchen was too small, claustrophobic. “Stuff happens; people cheat—isn’t that what you said before?”
“Whoa, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Nick flinched as if she’d slapped him and set the coffee on the table. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Please, can’t we call a truce? I’m truly thankful you’re here to talk to; I don’t want to ruin it. Please.” He held both hands up in a sign of surrender.
Carly studied him and struggled to calm down. She paced a bit, found her way back to the coffeepot, and refilled her cup. Pain and anger didn’t want to stay buried. She took a deep breath, slammed angry feelings down, and returned to the table.
“Okay. Let’s change the subject. This picture . . .” She pushed the photo across the table to Nick. “Who is this guy next to Captain Garrison?”
Nick took the photo. “That’s Mario Correa, the harbor superintendent.”
“Why was he in the picture?”
“Because he’s involved in anything that has to do with the harbor, and the dope shipment came in at one of the docks closed for refurbishing. Jeff staked it out on a hunch and some informant information. It was a huge bust. Correa was grateful, I guess.”
Just then Elaine emerged from the hallway. Carly winced at the sight of puffy, swollen eyes. Pictures of the old Elaine and Jeff flashed in her mind—images from the photos and the last time the four of them had played a game of beach volleyball. It was a raucous, wild game with lots of laughter and a great deal of love. The image shattered like thin glass on hard concrete. None of them were the same anymore.
“Carly! I didn’t know you were here!” Elaine’s face brightened and she opened her arms for a hug. The hug was tight, but it didn’t match the tightness in Carly’s chest.
“That’s what friends are for. I’m sorry I don’t come out more often. How are you holding up?”
“I’ve been better.” She smiled weakly. Nick handed her a cup of coffee, and the trio sat at the table. Small talk bounced around, but it was uncomfortable, as if the three were strangers and not close friends. Carly couldn’t help but think of a worst-case scenario: that Jeff was a murderer and a cheat. Her heart went out to Elaine, but at the same time, as she watched and listened, she soon realized Elaine wasn’t as fragile as she looked. There was strength behind the red-rimmed eyes—and faith, Carly saw.
Elaine is like my mom and Dora.
At some point an uneasy silence fell over the room, and Carly couldn’t help but blurt, “What was Jeff doing before he disappeared?”
She felt Nick turn her way but kept her eyes on Elaine, who didn’t cringe. She simply sipped her coffee and then turned her full attention to Carly to answer. “I wish I knew. He said he was undercover.” She studied the cup for a moment. “He told me he was working on something confidential and not to ask. I’m sorry, but I trusted him. No, I still trust him.” She hit the table with her palm. “My husband is not a cheat or a murderer; I’m sure of it.”