A Good Day for Chardonnay by Darynda Jones
14
Arrested for holding hands in public
because they didn’t know you and made a scene?
We can help!
—SIGN AT DALE SAUL, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW
Of all the crap she put on her daughter, now she had to entrust the girl with a secret certain members of society would kill for. She would talk to Auri about it later. Right now, Quincy was screaming at her. Metaphorically, as he’d used three exclamation points in his text.
“Are you okay?” he asked when she walked into the station a little worse for wear.
“Why? Don’t I look okay? I did have a Thin Mint I found in my car that tasted sketchy.”
He shook his head.
“What’s so urgent?”
“That.” He pointed to her office.
She stepped closer. Levi was inside, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. He stopped and turned toward her, his expression angrier than normal. As much as she hated to admit it, she didn’t care if he was angry. Or why. Her heart skipped a beat with the knowledge that he was still alive.
“He seems agitated,” she said to Quince.
“He is,” Levi responded, waiting for her to come to him. Apparently, he wanted some alone time in her office.
A frail voice drifted toward her. “Howdy, Sunshine.”
Mrs. Fairborn. Sun waved at the elderly woman who’d set up shop at Quincy’s desk. “Hey, Mrs. Fairborn. How’s the confession coming?”
“Fantastic. How do you spell bloodcurdling?”
“I’ll help you with that, Mrs. F.,” Anita said, scooting up a chair beside her.
Sun gave her another wave, then entered her office where she got a better view of Levi’s battered face than she had that morning. It looked worse than she’d hoped it would. Not that he wasn’t still ragingly handsome, but the deep blacks and blues around his left eye, not to mention his mouth, were troubling. Thankfully—and astoundingly—there wasn’t much swelling, but the subconjunctival hemorrhage had completely discolored the white of his left eye, leaving it a bright blood red.
“Please tell me you had that checked out.”
“Please tell me you found them.”
“Can you answer my question?”
“As soon as you answer mine.”
“You know, you’re still under arrest.”
“I’ve been under arrest for months. What makes today any different?”
He was right. She’d arrested him, unofficially, four months ago when he’d first confessed to killing his uncle Kubrick. At the time, she suspected he only confessed because Hailey had beat him to the punch. She was the first of many to confess. But he knew things about the killing that Hailey hadn’t.
“Did you find them or not?” he asked.
“The assailants? No.” She almost didn’t want to ask the next question, but she needed to know. “Did you?”
He turned his back to her, clearly angry. “Are you even looking?”
“Hey,” she said, offended. “You know we are. We’ve had some developments.”
“Great. Because developments will help.”
“I don’t think I like your attitude, mister.” She shoved her free hand onto her hip. “Which could only mean one thing. You’re in a massive amount of pain.” Even when she’d seen Levi at his angriest, he was rarely a straight-up asshole to her.
He turned to face her again. Her statement seemed to steal some of his thunder. “Massive is a strong word.”
She stepped closer. “Quincy, can you close the door?”
“Sure, boss. Which side would you like me on?”
“This one. I need a witness.”
He did as ordered and waited.
“A witness for what?” Levi asked.
She set her coffee on her desk. “Take off your shirt.”
The intrigued brow that formed a questioning arch did nothing to slow her pulse. “You don’t need a witness for that.”
“I don’t. You do.” When he crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to cooperate—shocker—she said, “Look, either you let me do this or I’m arresting you and watching while Quincy strip searches you.”
“For the love of God, Ravinder,” Quincy said, “let her check you out.”
Most likely, any internal bleeding from the hit-and-run would’ve manifested by now. He would hardly be standing. She hoped the danger had passed since he seemed strong as ever. But better safe than sorry.
Favoring one side of his body, he lifted his shirt over his head with a grunt. He could barely lift his left arm high enough, but he managed to get the shirt off and hold it firmly in a clenched fist. He was freshly showered and the woodsy scent of patchouli filled the room.
Along with the scrapes and bruises she’d expected to see was a massive, platter-sized bruise along his left ribcage with petechial hemorrhaging down that side of his torso.
Sporting her best poker face, she walked around him. His wide shoulders tapered down to a lean, muscular back that had not fared any better. It had deep gashes, probably from being dragged across the gravel, that needed to be looked after.
She walked around to face him again and lifted a hand to his bruised jaw, fighting the urge to send it all the way around his neck. To pull him closer. To lock him to her.
His shimmering gaze trailed from her eyes to her mouth where it lingered a long moment. “So, in your far-from-expert opinion, what’s the prognosis?”
She dropped her hand. “First, you should be in a hospital.”
“And second?”
“I don’t believe for a minute you found nothing out there. I can’t force you to tell me, Levi, but we should be working with each other, not against.”
“That’s convenient.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Meaning?”
“Suddenly we’re colleagues? You sure you don’t want to arrest me again?”
“I’m still considering it,” she said, stepping closer. “Don’t push me.”
He clenched his jaw and admitted, “I found the truck.”
Why she would be surprised, Sun had no idea, but she was. She schooled her features. He was sharing. According to Auri, sharing was caring, but she only said that when Sun had ice cream.
“And the man you injured?”
“The man I killed?” he corrected. “Not in it, if that’s what you mean. They burned it to the ground at an abandoned warehouse near Las Vegas.”
“They didn’t get far,” she said, surprised no one called it in. Las Vegas, New Mexico, was only about forty-five minutes from Del Sol and fires were not taken lightly in the arid state.
“That means they had to dump the body somewhere between Del Sol and Las Vegas, but damned if I can find it.”
“Do you think they buried it?”
“They wouldn’t have taken the time. I got the VIN, but I doubt it belonged to any of the assailants.”
“And you’re sure there was no body?”
“I told you. He would have bled to death in a matter of seconds. They dumped the body, I just can’t find where. And with all that blood, they had no choice but to burn the evidence.”
She nodded. “I’m going to need that baseball cap.”
“It’s in my truck.”
“Covered in your DNA.”
He shrugged, completely remorseless.
“Quincy, do you mind?”
Without breaking eye contact, Levi fished his keys out of his pocket and tossed them to her chief deputy.
After he left, she held out her hand. “And the knife.”
He dove into his other front pocket and brought out a foldable hunting knife. She reached over him, grabbed an evidence bag and opened it up. “Is there a reason you took this?”
He held it up to her. “Besides the initials and the intricate engraving? No.”
“You were trying to trace it back to the engraver.”
After he dropped it inside, he nodded. “Yes.”
“And?”
“Denver artist. Sold it at a convention, but the initials were added later.”
“Did he have a record of the transaction?”
“The guy paid cash.”
“Damn it.”
He dropped his gaze, and asked, “How’s Red?”
She sealed the bag and reached around him again to put it on her desk, unwilling to give up her prime location just yet. “Worried about you.”
He bit down, the muscles in his jaw working. “I’m sorry.”
“She adores you.”
His gaze bounced back to hers. “The feeling is mutual.”
His admission caused a warmth to blossom in her chest. “Thank you.”
He let appreciation soften his features.
“You know, even with the badge, I’m not a real threat to you, Levi. I never was.”
He scoffed. “Shine, you are the only person on the planet I do feel threatened by.” He spread his knees apart as though encouraging her to inch closer. “Nothing you do or say is going to change that. Extra points for effort, though.”
Under the guise of concern, she reached up and ran her fingertips along the bruises on his cheek, down to his lean jaw, over to his full mouth.
“Just so you know,” he said softly, “we have an audience.”
Startled, Sun turned to see Zee, Salazar, Anita, and Mrs. Fairborn gaping at them through the wide-open door. “Oh, shit,” she said, lunging away from him. She brushed herself off and straightened. “Thank you, Levi. I can’t believe I tripped.”
“They’ve been watching for, like, five minutes.”
“Hey, Mrs. Fairborn. How’s the confession coming?” she asked again, discomfort prickling along her nerve endings.
“Not as good as your interrogation,” the spitfire said. She wiggled her brows.
Zee fought a grin as Salazar and Anita busied themselves with paperwork. Mrs. Fairborn gave her a thumbs-up.
Sun cleared her throat. “Way to sheriff, Sunshine. I need to call Las Vegas PD. Where was that truck exactly?”
“North of Airport Road off 25,” Levi said. “I think it used to be a mobile-home construction facility or something.”
“You can tell me later how you found it. For now, call your sister.”
Levi acquiesced with a nod, carefully donned his shirt, and walked out.
She followed. “How do you spell massacre?” Mrs. Fairborn asked Levi.
He chuckled as Quincy brought the cap into the bullpen, signed, sealed in an evidence bag, and delivered. Metaphorically speaking.
Sun nodded a thank you. “Let’s get this to forensics.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
“I just called Pres,” she said, referring to the hospital where they’d taken Keith Seabright.
Levi whirled around to her. “How is he?”
“He’s alive. Critical but stable. You were right about the tox screen.”
“I know.”
She stepped closer. “Levi, how much do you know about him?”
“We’ve been friends for a few years, but he’s very private. I just know he was in Special Forces and is now a survivalist living off-grid.”
“Let me show you something.” She led him to Zee’s computer. After sitting in Zee’s chair, she gestured for him to take Salazar’s and showed him Elliot. “Do you know this kid?”
He scooted closer for a better look, then lifted a shoulder. “That’s his nephew, Eli.”
Her gaze darted to Quincy. “Elliot.”
Quince walked over, his expression pensive.
“Who’s Elliot?” Levi asked.
“Elliot Kent was abducted from his home in Santa Fe seven years ago. He would be twelve now.” She gestured toward the screen. “And he would look exactly like that.”
“Are you saying you think Seabright abducted a kid?”
“Do you have another explanation?”
He sat back in the chair, clearly angry. “Eli is Seabright’s sister’s kid. They live in Bisbee. He stays with him a lot in the summers and during hunting season.”
“Levi, Keith Seabright had only one sister and she died when he was ten. She was fourteen. She never had a kid.”
Levi looked like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. “You’re wrong. He would never abduct a kid.”
“We can figure that out later. But if Eli was abducted and Keith’s in the hospital, that means Eli is alone and … and possibly imprisoned.”
The look he gave her would’ve killed a lesser being. “You’re wrong.” He stood and stormed out.
She caught up to him and stopped him at the front entrance by throwing herself into his path, an act of desperation comparable to playing in oncoming traffic. She put a hand on his arm.
He speared her with a glare worthy of a king. “Move. I’m going to find Eli.” He started around her, but she stepped into his path again.
“You know where he lives?”
He gave her a reluctant shake of his head. “No, but I have a good idea.”
“Hold on.” She took out her phone and called one of her favorite places on Earth.
“Who are you calling?”
“He’s a kid,” she said, putting the phone up to her ear. “What kid doesn’t like pizza?”
“Adobe Oven,” a male voice said.
“Hey, Ernie.”
“Hey, Sunshine. Need a pie to go?” How he always recognized her voice when he got dozens of calls a day was beyond her.
“I’m actually calling on official business.”
“Sounds serious.”
“It is. And you can help save a kid’s life,” she said, priming him. He was well within his rights to refuse to answer her. Ernie had always liked her. She hoped that would help grease the wheels. “I know this is asking a lot, but can you give me the address of a customer you deliver to? A Keith Seabright?”
“I’m sorry, love. I can’t.”
Damn it. She was hoping to forgo the warrant talk. “Ernie, Keith is in the hospital and we need to find his nephew. It’s urgent.”
“No, I mean I literally can’t. I don’t have an address for them. One of them always meets us at Tinsley’s Crossing.”
“Oh.” She glanced up at Levi. Tinsley’s Crossing was about five miles north of town and led to any number of homesteads.
He nodded, so the information must’ve matched his notion of where they lived.
“Thanks, Ernie. Oh, wait. Can you tell me the last time they ordered?”
“Sure.” She heard him punch some keys on a computer. “I know it’s been at least a week. Yeah, here we go. They ordered sandwiches and a pie a week ago Friday.”
Darn. “Okay, thanks, Ernie.” She was hoping Eli had ordered something to eat in the last couple of days. That would imply he was simply on his own and not locked up somewhere.
“How is he?” Ernie asked. “Mr. Seabright?”
“He’s still breathing.”
“I’ll pray it stays that way.”
“Thank you.” She hung up. “Is that the right area?”
“It is.”
“Then I may know where they’re staying.” She looked toward the plate glass window and gestured to Quincy.
“I think I know, too. I should go out there alone.”
“And why is that?”
“Seabright doesn’t need a bunch of bumbling deputies trampling all over his place.”
“No offense, Levi, but I don’t give a rat’s ass what Keith Seabright needs right now. My only concern is that boy.” She crossed her arms. “I’m coming with you, and you don’t have a say in the matter.”
He mimicked her, crossing his arms, too. “No, you’re not, and I think I do.”
Quincy walked past them, carrying a tactical bag and a shotgun. “Quit being a dick, Ravinder. Let’s go.”
“Fine,” Levi said to Sun through clenched teeth. “We’ll take my truck”
“You and Zee follow,” she said to Quincy, hurrying to Levi’s truck.
She called Rojas as she hopped inside the dark cab to fill him in. “Keep an eye on our visitors. Watch what they do when we leave.”
“You got it, boss.”
She hung up and called Anita. “Call SFPD and find out if there have been any developments on the Elliot Kent case. Anything at all.”
“Absolutely.”
She heard Mrs. Fairborn in the background. “Does Hennessy have one N or two?”
“You don’t know?” Anita asked.
“I just drink the stuff. I don’t read the label.”
Sun hung up and looked at Levi. “This town needs an observation deck.”
“Are we doing it this time?” Cruz asked Auri.
She’d convinced her mom she had a study hour in preparation for upcoming exams, and their teacher had allowed them to go on a coffee run as long as they brought him one, too. Her mom must’ve really been off her game to fall for it. Probably the life-or-death thing with Hailey. Auri would get the rest of that story later. For now, she’d gotten away with skipping. She had to take full advantage.
She checked with her inside man. Mrs. F. was still confessing and, if history repeated itself, she’d be there all day. They’d make her tea and buy her lunch. She would fill out a detailed confession and then one of the deputies would drive her home.
Sadly, the former sheriff, Baldwin Redding, wouldn’t put up with Mrs. Fairborn’s confessions, so she’d had to get the mayor involved. He finally started letting her confess again, but he didn’t like it.
Of course, if he was anything like his son, an upperclassman at Del Sol High, he didn’t like much of anything unless it involved footballs, girls, and kegs.
“We’re doing this,” she said, determination driving her forward. Inch by inch.
“Okay, just one more step,” Sybil said, urging her to put one foot in front of the other.
They were outside Mrs. Fairborn’s back door again and had been there for the last ten minutes. It stood wide open, just waiting to swallow them whole.
“I can do this.”
“Yes, you can,” Sybil agreed.
It was crazy that Sybil was the one encouraging her to break the law.
She gave up. Her feet just wouldn’t move any farther. “Maybe we should try again tomorrow.”
Cruz tilted his head. “And you know about a crime tonight that she will be confessing to tomorrow?”
She bit her bottom lip. Before she could come up with another stall tactic—and her stall tactics were legendary according to her mother—Cruz hopped off the back porch, stalked forward, and threw her over his shoulder.
She squeaked as he carried her inside.
“We’re in,” he said, setting her on her feet, then closing the door.
A warmth spread over her when she realized he’d put his hand on her butt when he set her down.
He stood back but kept his hands on her shoulders until she’d steadied herself. “You good?”
She cleared her throat and nodded. “Yes. I’m good. Thanks.”
He nodded and looked around. “I say we each take a room.”
Mrs. Fairborn’s house hadn’t changed much since the old boardinghouse days. Auri had read all about it. It had seven rooms upstairs and three down, along with a living room, drawing room, whatever that was, dining room, and kitchen back when kitchens were hardly the focal point they were today.
“This is going to take forever,” Sybil said, turning full circle.
Auri walked to a small bedroom off the kitchen. The housekeeper’s quarters, according to the old floor plans she found. The door was locked. She turned to Cruz. “Maybe not.”
He grinned and knelt to pick the lock. “You’ll have to show me how to do that someday.”
“And give up my position on the team? My lockpicking abilities are the only reason you brought me along, so not likely.”
He opened the door and offered a regal bow, gesturing for her to go first.
Auri walked across the threshold and sucked in a soft breath. Entering that room was like stepping back in time. Newspaper clippings, the same ones Auri had been reading, papered one wall. A dresser sat weighted down with old perfume bottles, powder tins, shaving kits, and scented lotions. Dark wood furniture. Baby blue chenille bedspread. Lace doilies. A painted tin pitcher and water bowl. It was all so amazing. So reminiscent of a different era.
Yet everything had been cleaned recently. Not a speck of dust on anything.
“It’s like an antique store in here,” Auri said, her tone full of awe.
“But unless there are some kind of identifying marks on these items,” Cruz said, “we can’t connect them to any of the missing persons.”
Sybil stood in awe, too. “Whatever you do, don’t move a thing. If you pick something up, put it back the way you found it. This stuff is well cared for. Mrs. Fairborn will know if someone’s been in here.”
“Agreed.”
They slowly started picking up items, one-by-one, to see if anything had a name etched into it. After twenty minutes, they found nothing but a fascination of all things old.
“This stuff is incredible.”
“They really liked lavender,” Sybil said, crinkling her nose. “And talcum powder.”
Auri looked over. Cruz was going through the books on a nightstand. Naturally. He was a poet himself and wrote some of the most beautiful poems Auri had ever read.
He opened a book and waved her over. “There’s a name, but I don’t recognize it from the list of missing persons.”
Auri took out her phone and snapped a shot of the name Virginia Bagwell. “I don’t recognize it, either.”
“It may be nothing,” he said, closing the book and repositioning it.
“I’ll look into the victims’ relatives. You never know.”
“I have a question, though,” Sybil said, sniffing yet another bottle of perfume. “Where do you think she buried them?”
Simultaneously, as though the move were choreographed, they all dropped their gazes to the wooden floor beneath their feet.
Panic took hold of Sybil. She looked back at them a microsecond before she tore out of the house. A high-pitched shriek followed in her wake.
“Sybil wait,” Auri said, trying to put a tobacco tin back where she found it.
Cruz took off after her. Finally satisfied, Auri followed, but just as she got to the door of the room, something shiny captured her attention. She skidded to a halt and looked at a handful of necklaces dangling from a hook by a chest of drawers. One necklace in particular, actually. She’d seen a picture of it. An antique cameo made from real ivory set in a heavy brass oval.
She remembered the article about the missing girl who’d worn it because in the interview, the girl was a poor relation of the family searching for her, the one that seemed more worried about the necklace than the girl. It broke Auri’s heart.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket and snapped a shot of the necklace before racing out the back door straight into the welcoming arms of Deputy Poetry Rojas.
