Another One Bites the Dust (23 page)

“He stayed while he was alive, Jasmine. You gotta give him that. Even the Bible doesn’t require relationships to last after death. If you’re going to be pissed, aim it at the son of a bitch who murdered him.”

“But Matt’s there and I’m here. What does that say about what we had?” More sobbing. I was like the ghost in the Hogwarts bathroom. Sad, pathetic girl.

“He loved you. You know that. I know that. He just needed to move on.”

“What about what
I
needed?”

He shook his head. “I don’t guess you and I were meant for marriage and kids and cable TV. That’s more Evie’s thing.”

“Of course not. But—”

“Jasmine. Honest to God, you could have gone anywhere to cry. Why did you come here?”

That dried me up, as I was sure it was meant to. “You’re the only one I know who’s survived this kind of loss. I thought I could learn from you. You know, before I sleep again.”

Dave regarded me thoughtfully. “You’re a survivor too, Jaz. You just have to accept it.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

Like hair waxing, the best way to reenter one’s physical form is quickly and without warning. I greeted myself with a full-body cramp that yanked me to my feet and extracted such a shout I’m sure the Mexicans thought Texas had finally gone and seceded from the Union.

“Jasmine!” Vayl had both arms out, as if he expected me to collapse at any moment.

“I’m okay,” I gasped, leaning over for a second until I was sure I wouldn’t be leaving supper all over the grass.

“You should sit down,” Vayl suggested, pulling my chair right up behind me so all I needed to do was bend my knees. It suddenly seemed like a fine idea. Vayl sat in front of me so our legs were nearly touching.

An eerie calm settled over me. I wasn’t sure what it meant. I might be perched in the eye of a gigantic storm, in which case Vayl should probably run. Or it could be that the waters around me had utterly stilled because no energy existed anywhere in me to move them.

“Did you find what you needed with David?” Vayl asked.

“Kind of. It’s—the dreams—they’re about Matt.”

Vayl’s hands convulsed around his cane, which he’d laid across his lap. It bugged me that he hadn’t cleaned it off yet, that little bits of goo still hung on to tiger heads and backs and tails here and there and dirt soiled the tip. My hands itched to grab it from him and scrub it shiny. “What about Matt?”

“He died.”

It was such an obvious, simple thing to say, I was kind of surprised Vayl didn’t smack my forehead with the palm of his hand. Instead he said carefully, “Matt died terribly.”

“He wasn’t supposed to,” I added.

“No.”

“I thought I’d gotten over it.”

Vayl leaned forward, rolling his cane back so he could rest elbows on his thighs. He clasped his long fingers together. “That would signify an end. You meant to marry the man. You felt a love for him that should have lasted a lifetime. That feeling will not necessarily change just because he is gone. I still love my sons as much today as I did the day they were born. Perhaps the best either of us can hope for is not to get over our pain, but to move past it.”

Yeah,
move
, I’d figured out that word was key early on.

When I’d lost Matt and my crew, my life as I knew it ended. And time stood still. But I’d discovered ways to force the minute hand to tick the seconds off. The trick, I’d thought, was to keep moving. And yet the nightmares had still caught up to me. Had done everything but slam my head into a brick wall.

In the end, simply moving isn’t enough. Not when all you’re doing is circling the source of your grief. The thing is, when you let that go, what’s left to hold on to?

CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR

Occasionally just before waking I realize exactly how I look, and I’m generally glad nobody can see me. This morning I knew my mouth gaped like an empty mailbox. Drool dripped down the side of my chin. I’d just finished a prodigious snore and a green cloud of halitosis orbited my head.

I snapped my mouth shut, rubbed my chin on my sleeve, wincing as I opened a barely healed cut on my arm, and opened my eyes. Cassandra was frying bacon, drat her, which explained the drool. Bergman tinkered with both computers on the table. Cole sat with his legs up on Mary-Kate, his eyes drifting from Cassandra to me, apparently deeply entertained by having Jekyll and Hyde in the same general vicinity.

I sat up. Slowly. Between the belly dancing, the fire, the visit to Dave and its aftermath, the night had taken its toll.

“You look like crap!” Cole said merrily. “I like the hair though.” He made a camera frame with his thumbs and forefingers and in the genie voice from
Aladdin
said, “Now, what does this say to me? Homeless woman? Tornado victim? Britney Spears? I’ve got it! Preschooler who’s misplaced her gum!”

I regarded him balefully. “You’re a morning person, aren’t you?”

“You make that sound like a bad thing.”

“Not if you stop talking.” In a sweeping, dramatic gesture he covered his closed lips with the back of his hand. “Better.” I swung my legs off Ashley and looked at Cassandra.

“How come the breakfast foods?” I asked as I noted eggs scrambling beside a freshly baked tin of cinnamon rolls.

She smiled with anticipation. “Jericho is coming.” I should’ve known. She looked date primed with her hair wound around her head like a crown. She’d chosen her best jewelry and a sheath of a white dress covered with red peppers.

“Does he know this?” I asked.

“He will after you call him.”

Oh, right, I’d told Shao I would talk to him this morning. Of course that was when I had high hopes of eliminating Lung and heading back to E.J.-land.

“Do I have his number?”

Cassandra pushed a business card across the counter toward me along with my phone. I dialed him up.

“This is Preston.”

“Sergeant Preston, this is Jaz Parks. How are you feeling this morning?”

“Well, I’m not extracrispy, thanks to you.”

“I can tell you we’re all pretty relieved to have gotten out of that mess alive, and it was great to have your help. Which is sort of why I’m calling. We were wondering if, uh, before you and your son take off for the zoo, maybe you could come to breakfast. We had some things we’d like to discuss with you.”

“Sure, I’ll be right there.”
Click
.

I held the phone up and looked at Cassandra. “He hung up. Is that rude, or am I just—?” A knock at the door interrupted me. Bergman closed the laptops, leaped out of his seat, snagged the sheet I’d been sleeping under, and covered the table with it. Then he raced to the bedroom to check whose face would be filling its monitor as Cassandra went to answer. I gave her a wait-a-minute gesture as Cole and I powered down the living room TV and all its related equipment.

“How we doing, Bergman?” I called.

“We’re good to go,” he said as he strolled back into the kitchen.

I nodded for her to open the door. Preston stood on our welcome mat, hands on his hips, only slightly out of breath.

“Where were you?” Cassandra asked.

“Fishing.”

“I don’t see a rod and reel.”

“For evidence,” he explained. “That freaky dude who attacked you last night disappeared. I figure I can put him away for a long time with you all as my witnesses, so I was looking around, trying to figure out where he went off to.”

“Well, isn’t that sweet?” Cassandra said, looking at me with a forced smile. “Jaz, isn’t that sweet?”

“It certainly is.”
How many strings did this guy pull to be in this place at this time?
“Do you like eggs, Sergeant Preston?”

“Please, call me Jericho.”

So we called him Jericho and he met Cole and Bergman formally, after which we ate. I excused myself for a quick cleanup since I couldn’t stand myself any longer. When I came back Cole raised his eyebrows at my outfit.

I wore my newest purchase, a cobalt-blue blouse with three-quarter-length sleeves and a high, Victorian-style collar that would hide the bite marks if there were any to conceal. There weren’t. But you never knew. I’d been forced to bare my neck to Vayl on our last mission when his blood supply had been tainted. I also wore gray pinstriped dress pants and my black leather jacket, which hid Grief.

I carried my usual assortment of backup weaponry, including the bolo in my right pocket. I slipped my hand into my left pocket, touched the ring that rested there. For the first time I thought,
Maybe it doesn’t have to remind me of Matt’s death, and how horribly I still miss him sometimes. Maybe it can help me remember our lives together before that. God we had some great times.

Jericho and Cassandra had settled on Mary-Kate directly opposite Cole, who’d decided, once again, to put his feet up. He looked geared for a beach party in jean shorts and a green Hawaiian shirt covered with palm leaves. Bergman, wearing brown work pants and a T-shirt that saidMETEORS RULE on it, had spun the passenger seat around for himself, so I took the driver’s seat, which also turned to join the crowd.

Vayl and I had not discussed this situation at all, so I really didn’t know how much of our mission he’d be comfortable revealing to Jericho. Therefore I thought it might be a good idea to do a little fishing myself before I revealed all our nifty secrets.

“So what exactly is your role on the SWAT team?” I asked.

“It depends on the situation,” Jericho said. “For instance, if we’re busting in a place to take down a known drug dealer or a black magic marketer, I’m usually the guy swinging the ram. If it’s a standoff, or a hostage situation, I’m one of the snipers.”

That gave me such a phenomenal idea I nearly jumped on Bergman and throttled him with it. But Jericho’s presence forced me to sit very still and wish somebody in the immediate vicinity would rob a bank. Wouldn’t they call SWAT for that?

Jericho’s phone chose that moment to ring, which I thought might be a sign from God. If so, I would gladly attend church at least once this year. At almost the same moment a knock came at our door. Cole went to answer it. He spoke to our visitor, who I couldn’t see from my vantage point, then looked at me with puzzlement. “This guy says where do we want them to put our new tent?”

The question tore me, because Jericho had started barking into his phone, which meant I could bend Bergman’s ear with my new plan. But not only was I beginning to feel sorry for whoever had invited SWAT guy’s anger, I badly wanted to know what he was saying. Luckily Cassandra and Bergman were shamelessly eavesdropping, so I shelved my brilliant idea and joined Cole at the door.

A short, round man wearing a white jumpsuit and a Stetson nodded at me. He spoke around a wad of chewing tobacco that threatened to leap out of his mouth with every other word.

“Good mornin’, little lady,” he said to me. “No need to trouble yourself with this mess. Your man here’s about to take care of it.”

Cole put his arm around me, an outwardly friendly gesture, but actually a warning.
Jaz, do not strangle the Elvis wannabe.
I looked at the man’s scuffed white cowboy boots. They rested squarely in the middle of Bergman’s zapper mat. The
pfffzzzt
button practically blinked at me from its control box, which stood not five feet away. It would be so easy . . .

Come on, Lucille, handle this. Jaz is practically frothing at the mouth
. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name or the name of your company,” I said pleasantly.

“Name’s Tom Teller of Tom Teller Tents and Awnings.” Oops, a thin line of tobacco juice dribbled down his chin. He swiped it off with the cuff of his sleeve, leaned sideways, and spat. Problem was, he didn’t lean far enough. A huge, semisolid mass of material hit the zapper mat, which, being a Bergman prototype, turned out to be a tad more sensitive to liquids than originally intended.

After consulting a work order on the clipboard he held, Tom Teller told Cole, “We been hired by Chin Lang Acrobatics to clean up the mess from last night’s fire and erect a new performance tent with
aaaAAAhhhh
!”

Tom Teller lifted up on both toes, raised his hands in the air, and proceeded to do a remarkable imitation of the ballerina that had once danced in a circle every time I opened my jewelry box the year I was eight. Showing remarkable restraint in that he didn’t burst into laughter, Cole held out a hand while making sure not to touch our visitor. “Dude, are you okay?”

“What the hell was that?” Tom Teller demanded.

“I believe you’ve just been shocked by electric ants,” I told him, jabbing Cole with an elbow when I thought I heard a giggle.

“Are you kidding me? That felt like a damn ’lectric
chair
!”

“Well, they tell me everything’s bigger in Texas,” I replied, giving him Lucille’s sweetest, fakest smile.

He wiped a bead of sweat off his brow. “I guess I’ve heard that myself. Uh, I just wanted to know if you’d like the new tent in the same place as the old one. Some people got superstitchuns. They don’t want new stuff in the same
aaaAAAhhhh
!”

Again with the zappy dance. “Wow,” I said. “No doubt about it, we’re going to have to call an exterminator.” I looked up into a sky so blue it seemed to confirm every story I’d ever heard about heaven.
Okay, you win. After the phone call to Jericho and now this, I’m definitely at your service
.