Blood of Eden (16 page)
Authors: Tami Dane
“The woman grabbed Mrs. Yates and shook her. And then they started wrestling. I've always thought Mrs. Yates was a strong girl. She liked to jog and ride her bike. And she taught a Zumba class at Bee's Dance Academy. I went to the class once, but it moved too fast for me. But even as strong as she was, she didn't stand a chance against that other beastly woman. That woman tossed Mrs. Yates around like a rag doll. And then, the strange woman did the oddest thing, she kissed Mrs. Yates.”
“Kissed her?” I echoed.
“Yes.” Mrs. Ester nodded. “I figured they were lesbians, secret lovers. Fighting over ... well, heaven only knows what. Poor Mr. Yates. He couldn't have known.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, at our block party just a week before, he was crowing about what a dedicated wife he had. I didn't have the heart to tell him. That's why I called you after those other agents had left. I didn't want him to overhear. He'd be devastated. His whole life isâwasâthat wife of his. They'd never been able to have children. He'd blamed himself, but now I'm thinking it had nothing to do with him. Them sperms can't do their job if they aren't where they need to be, if you get my drift. Then again, maybe I should tell him. So he won't keep blaming himself anymore ... what do you think?”
Ah, the intrigues of suburbia. Lesbian affairs, misplaced sperm, and catfights.
“I think you should do what you think is best,” I said. “Are you sure the attacker kissed Mrs. Yates? Could she have ... bitten her?”
“Bitten?”
Mrs. Ester grimaced. “Why would anyone bite someone? I suppose it's possible.... I don't know.”
Mrs. Ester grimaced. “Why would anyone bite someone? I suppose it's possible.... I don't know.”
“So you believe the two women knew each other?” JT asked, redirecting the conversation.
“I didn't at first. But the more I think about it, the more convinced I am.”
“Can you describe the woman you saw attacking your neighbor?” I asked.
“I can try. She was more petite than Mrs. Yates. That I can say for certain. Her hair was light and short, shorter than yours.” She pointed at my head. “Her skin was very pale. And she was wearing shorts and a sweater.”
I scribbled more notes. “And you're absolutely sure the attacker was a woman?”
“Yes.”
“What makes you so certain?” I asked. “She was clearly very strong, to be able to âthrow' your neighbor around so easily, not to mention leap over a six-foot fence.”
“It does sound strange, doesn't it? I know. But all I can say is she moved like a woman. Not like a man.”
“Do you have prescription glasses?” JT asked.
“I do.” Mrs. Ester pointed at her eyes. “I only wear them at night. I look better in contacts.”
“Why did you fail the eye exam if you have prescription lenses?” I asked.
Mrs. Ester tapped her temple. “Cataracts. I'm afraid to go under the knife, but I know I'm going to have to suck it up and go, sooner or later.”
I looked into her eyes, and sure enough, I could see the slightly milky reflection of the cataracts in her pupils.
“I can still see good enough to do most everything else,” Mrs. Ester said. “Just not drive.”
“I understand.” I looked at my notes. She hadn't given us much that was useful. The only piece that fit was the possible bite. As far as the unsub's description went: petite woman with short, light hair? There had to be hundreds of those running around this neighborhood. “Did you notice anything unusual about the attacker? Something that would help us identify her? Did she have any scars? Tattoos? Anything?”
“What a silly question. Even if my eyesight was twenty-twenty, do you think I'd see a little scar?”
I swallowed a chuckle. Mrs. Ester was quite a character. I liked her. “Probably not, but you never know.”
“And as far as âunusual,' don't you think it's
unusual
for a woman to leap over a six-foot fence, toss another grown woman around like she's a doll, and then bite her?” Mrs. Ester asked.
unusual
for a woman to leap over a six-foot fence, toss another grown woman around like she's a doll, and then bite her?” Mrs. Ester asked.
I nodded, exchanging a grin with JT. “I do.”
“Then, there you have it.” She gave us a look that said she was done with us, if we were done with her.
JT handed her a card. “Thank you, Mrs. Ester. You've been very helpful. I have one last question, if you don't mind, and then we'll get going.”
Mrs. Ester nodded. “Shoot away.”
“Have you ever seen the attacker before? Did she look familiar?”
“I didn't get a good look at her face. Most of the time, her back was turned to me, or she was moving quickly. But I'd have to say, no, I haven't seen her before.”
“Thank you.” JT pointed at the card. “If you think of anything else, or see the attacker again, I'd appreciate it if you'd give me a call.”
“Will do. Bye-bye.” Mrs. Ester stuffed the card down her shirt, hit the button on her scooter, and motored away.
We exchanged another grin.
“What an interesting woman,” I said.
“Yes, very interesting,” JT said.
“I don't think we can believe her testimony, not a word.”
“Hmm. What about the bite? That fits.” JT started wandering toward the site of the alleged attack, his gaze focused downward.
“Sure, but we sort of suggested it, didn't we?” Following his lead, I slowly walked between the houses, looking for signs of a struggle. “This was disappointing. She's the only possible eyewitness who's come forward, so far.”
“She won't be the last.” JT checked the fence, then the area around it.
Not far from him, I checked the grass around a bush, hoping I'd find a piece of torn clothing or something to back up Mrs. Ester's story. “You sound very sure of that.”
Still at the fence, JT stooped down and ran his hand over the ground. “I am. Assuming she actually saw the unsub and didn't imagine it all, she walked away alive. She's a witness. The unsub is getting sloppy. Which means, there will be more witnesses.”
“What if that wasn't the unsub she saw?”
“Then, there's a mystery woman running around, leaping high fences in a single bound, and kissing women.” He stood. Shook his head. “There's nothing here.”
“I'm not finding anything either. I wonder if she's delusional. What do you think? Alzheimer's? Diabetic dementia?”
“Could be. Of course, there is another possibility. And we can't eliminate it yet.” At the car now, JT pulled open the passenger-side door for me. He stepped aside.
“You mean, the unsub really can jump over fencesâand she wasn't kissing the victim, she was biting her.” I waited until JT was in the car before asking, “Seriously? You believe that?” Was he actually willing to take a nearly blind woman's testimony at face value? When we hadn't found a single clue to back her story?
He shoved the key into the ignition and cranked it. “Sure. Can you tell me for certain that every myth about every paranormal creature is only thatâa myth? Couldn't there be some kernel of truth in them all?”
“I thought you didn't believe in that stuff. That's what you said.”
He shrugged. “Maybe I'm starting to change my mind.”
“Maybe I'd be more willing to go there if I had the testimony of somebody at least semireliable to back it up. But thus far, we don't.” When he didn't respond, I added, “I'm not close-minded, though. Give me proof that vampires, werewolves, whatever exist, and I'll eat my words.”
He gnawed on his lower lip for a moment. I liked when he did that. “Okay, how about we have a little bet?”
“I think this is silly, but I'm listening. See how open-minded I am?”
“By the time we solve this caseâwhich I believe we willâI will produce irrefutable proof that paranormal creatures exist. If I don't ...”
“You'll be my personal assistant, aka slave, for forty-eight continuous hours, handling any personal or professional matter I require without compensation,” I finished for him.
“Agreed.” JT nodded. Then he leaned closer and gave me a baby-you're-mine look. “And if I succeed, you'll go on a date with me.”
“But that's against FBIâ”
JT cut me off by laying an index finger on my mouth. “Chief Peyton's policy is, âwhat I don't know won't hurt you.'”
“And how do you know this?” I mumbled, every cell in my body aware of his touch.
He removed his finger to cup the gearshift. I had mixed feelings about that. “I asked her.”
“You didn't!” I jerked my seat belt over myself, making sure to hide my face. I swear, my cheeks were so hot, they might blister.
“I didn't mention names. It was presented as a general question.”
“And you don't think she guessed who you were talking about?”
“Actually, I think she assumed I was interested in Hough.” I could see how she'd think that. But I wasn't going to say as much. Immediately, my mind leapt back to that awkward moment, when I'd been standing outside Brittany's computer cave. I recalled how close JT had been standing to her, and how she'd been smiling into his eyes. My stomach felt like it had just gone through a wringer.
JT was a player. I didn't like players. They tended to be selfish, cocky, annoying. Why didn't I find JT any of those things?
He said, “Brittany and I like to flirt. It's a game we've been playing for years. She's the only woman I have ever done that with.”
Besides me.
He glanced in the rearview mirror before pulling the car away from the curb. “It's because I know I'm safe flirting with her.”
“Safe?” I echoed.
“She's a lesbian.”
I'd seen the glimmer in her eyes that day. There was no way she could've been faking it. “She lied to you. She's no more a lesbian than I am.”
“No way. She couldn't be lying.” He said that like he knew, without a doubt, she was gay.
“How can you be so certain?”
He stopped the car at an intersection and gave me a heart-halting grin. “I gave her away. At her wedding. She married Michelle last summer. It was quite a ceremony. First gay wedding I've ever been to.” After a beat, he asked, “So, does this mean you're gay?”
I couldn't argue with that kind of proof. “No, of course I'm not gay.”
His smile was smug. “Good.”
I decided the view out the window was safer; then I decided to give Katie a call, to check on her.
No answer. Did I need to be worried yet?
JT nudged me. “So, do we have a bet?”
“Fine.” I turned my head to find he was holding out a hand. I placed mine in his and gave it a quick shake before yanking it away. Touching that man for any longer than necessary was dangerous.
So was looking at him.
And smelling him.
And thinking about him... .
Creativity comes from looking for the unexpected and stepping outside your own experience.
âMasaru Ibuka
13
After touring Patty Yates's neighborhood for a while, JT decided we needed to take a lunch break before heading back to Yates's house to interview her husband later that afternoon. I was glad, because I was starving. But more than that, I was happy because that meant I'd get out of the car for a little while.
I'd never felt so closed-in before. The tension in the air was ridiculous, thick enough to taste. There were parts of my anatomy that appreciated the chemistry sizzling between us. Other parts did not.
But what ruined it for me: I began to wonder if this bet would ultimately end up biting me in the ass. I mean ... what if JT started flirting more? What if people saw him? What if Chief Peyton found out?
I needed to nip this in the bud now, before I lost all hope of a career with the FBI.
First step: I needed to discourage him from treating me like a girlfriend, and encourage him to treat me like a coworker.
I didn't let him get the chance to open the car door for me. I knew he wanted to. After parking in the restaurant's lot, he cut off the engine and jumped out of the seat. I scrabbled out of the car and slammed the door behind me. Then, anticipating his next move, I racewalked to the restaurant's door and yanked it open before he had a chance to do it for me. Inside, the narrow little restaurant's air smelled like roasted meats and pickles. My mouth flooded with saliva.
Looking like he wasn't fazed by my strange behavior, JT headed for a booth in the back. I decided it would be a good idea to take advantage of the free Wi-Fi, which was advertised on the restaurant's front door, and headed back out to the car.
While I was out there, I tried calling Katie again. Still, no answer. Mom greeted me in the parking lot. I was actually kind of glad to see her.
Probably before I took my first bite, I'd change my mind.
“Mom, how'd you find us? Have you seen or talked to Katie today?”
“I have my ways. I think I'm getting better and better at this PI stuff. And no, I haven't talked to Katie. Why?”
“I had to take her to the hospital last night. The doctors said she had an anxiety attack.”
“Oh, dear. Anxiety? I'm sure she'll be okay.” Mom studied the sign on the building. “A deli, Sloan? Haven't I told you how bad processed meats are for you?”
“Yes, you have. But I'm not ready to give up my Reuben addiction yet. Come on. I'm sure they offer something you can eat. I'll buy you lunch, if you'll go over and check on Katie for me.”
Mom scowled but didn't fight me as I led her inside. “They'd better have at least an edible salad.”
JT looked quite surprised to see we had company.
“JT, I'd like you to meet my mother, Beverly. Mom, this is Special Agent Thomas. We call him JT.”
“Good to meet you, madam.” Beaming, JT stood and offered his hand.
Mom gave him a dose of evil eyes. She wasn't much for boys and their charms. “If you're sleeping with my daughter, I'll make your life a living hell.”
So much for making nice. “Mom, that isn't necessary.” Then again, maybe it was a good thing.
JT took the threat well. He laughed. “I'm not sleeping with your daughter, but I'll definitely keep that in mind if I decide to take her up on her offer.”
“What! My offer?” Now it was my turn to squint at him. “I haven't offered any such thing.” Mom turned those evil eyes on me. “I swear to God. I'd never throw myself at a man.”
The waitress, whom I hadn't noticed before, said, “I would throw myself at him if I were you. He's one nice-looking man.”
I swallowed a retort that wasn't very kind and stared at my menu, trying to come up with a more appropriate response, something that didn't involve a four-letter word.
“Hey, Mel,” JT said.
“Heya, JT,” the waitress answered. “The usual?”
“You know him?” I asked.
“Sure. We went to school together, grew up in the same neighborhood. Oh, you thought I was saying I'd throw myself at a man I don't know? I'd never do that. JT here is a good guy.” She gave him a pat on the shoulder.
If he was such a good guy, why wasn't she dating him?
“I'd throw myself at him shamelessly, if it weren't for the fact that I'm happily married to my high-school sweetheart. We're expecting our first baby.” She patted her stomach, which was flatter than mine had ever been.
“Congratulations,” I said.
Mom echoed me.
JT jumped to his feet, gave a little whoop, and threw his arms around Mel, the waitress. Afterward, with one arm still looped around her neck, he said, “I tried to steal her away from Kevin, but she had eyes only for him. Didn't help that I weighed less than she did at the time.”
Mel laughed. “He was a string bean.” She elbowed him in the stomach and he returned to his seat. “If only I'd known how hot he'd be after he filled out.” She winked at him and he winked back.
I thought he only flirted with Brittany, the lesbian.
“Now that that's settled, can we order?” I asked, sounding a little snappy.
“I'll take a bottled water,” Mom said.
“That's it?” JT asked, turning what I could swear were concerned eyes her way. “Don't you want anything to eat? My treat.”
“Well ...” Mom glanced at the menu. “In that case, I'll take a house salad, no meat or cheese. But please give it a good washing first. All the vegetables. I don't suppose you buy your produce from an organic farmer?” At Mel's shake of the head, Mom added, “Vinegar and oil on the side, please.”
“Got it. One well-washed salad.” Mel turned to me. “And you?”
“I'll have the Reuben, fries, and a diet cola. And a cup of chicken noodle soup to go, please.”
“Okay. I'll be back with your drinks in just a minute.” She bounced off, scribbling in her little waitress pad.
An awkward moment stretched between us as I stared at Mom and JT, and they stared back.
“So, Mrs. Skye, what do you think of your daughter working for the FBI?” JT finally asked.
“I was completely against it when she first told me.”
JT's eyebrows arched. “Really?”
“My experiences with our government haven't been good. I didn't want my daughter working for a bunch of ... for the government.”
Looking very amused, JT nodded. “I see.” He looked at me, as if he expected me to add to Mom's already damning confession.
“Obviously, I didn't let her stop me,” I said.
The waitress trotted up, a tray of drinks balanced on her flattened hand. She handed Mom her bottled water first, then me my diet, and finally JT a tall glass of milk.
Mom took one look at the milk and said, “JT, you really shouldn't drink that stuff. It's loaded with estrogen and progesterone. Haven't you heard? Milk and cheese consumption is linked to testicular cancer.”
Ah, the joys of dining with my mother.
I stepped in before Mom could continue with the lecture. “JT, let me explain something to you. Just about anything you eat or drink is going to harm you in some way. Vegetables are bathed in pesticides. Meats are imbued with hormones. So please don't let my mother's food issues ruin your meal.” I turned a warning glare on my mother and leaned close to her. “Mom, behave yourself.”
“But this comes from a reliable source, Harvardâ”
“Please, Mom,” I interrupted.
“You like this boy,” Mom said.
“He's not a boy. He's clearly a grown man. And no, I don't like him. Not like
that.
But I do need to have a reasonably friendly
working relationship
with him, don't I?”
that.
But I do need to have a reasonably friendly
working relationship
with him, don't I?”
“Huh.” Mom crossed her arms over her chest and snapped her mouth shut. “That's the thanks I get for trying to save the man's testicles.”
Just shoot me now.
I knew how to stop Mom from tailing me. “JT, my mother is a private detective. She's on a case right now.”
“Really?” He grinned. “What kind of case?”
Mom fiddled with her bottled water. “I can't talk about it, of course. I must respect my client's privacy.”
“Of course,” he echoed.
“She's following me,” I told him.
He nodded and took a long gulp of milk. “I see.”
Another uncomfortable silence fell over us. This one lasted until Mel brought our food.
Mom grimaced as the salad was set before her, butâthank Godâshe didn't complain.
I decided it was wise to just concentrate on what looked like a glorious Reuben, stacked thick with corned beef, sauerkraut, and cheese. The tangy rye bread was toasted to perfection. I just about had an orgasm after my first taste, it was so good. Before I knew it, my plate was empty.
It was then that I realized Mom and JT were chatting away like old friends. That could be a bad thing.
Mom stood, gave JT a warm hug, and thanked him for lunch. She waved at me, the foam cup of soup in her hand. “See you later, Sloan. Off to deliver lunch to Katie.” She scurried away.
“Call me if there's a problem,” I said to her back.
She responded with an over-the-shoulder wave.
“Your mother's a very interesting woman.”
“You could say that.”
“Intelligent.” JT pulled out his wallet. He set a credit card on the bill, at the edge of our table.
“Yes, she is. Thanks for picking up her lunch.” I pulled out my wallet.
“Not a problem.”
“I'll pay for mine.” I pulled out a ten-dollar bill and set it on top of JT's credit card.
“No, you won't.” JT snatched it up and dropped it on the table, in front of me.
“Yes, I will.” I put it back on top of the bill.
“This is a working lunch. It's on the bureau's dime.” Once again, he grabbed my money and shoved it at me.
“Okay. Fine.” I put the ten back in my wallet. “You'd better be telling the truth.”
“I would never lie to you.” JT waved at Mel.
I thought about explaining my mother's medical condition to JT while we waited for Mel to cash us out, but I quickly decided that wasn't a good idea. People reacted strangely to hearing about my mother's condition. They tended to treat me differently afterward, like I was the sick one.
“Ready?” he asked, after signing the bill and thanking Mel.
“Sure. But I should probably make a trip to the bathroom first.”
“I'll wait for you in the car.” He headed outside.
I looped the strap of my laptop bag over my shoulderâso much for working during lunchâand headed to the bathroom. I took care of some personal issues first. While I was in there, I also decided my hair needed a touch-up. And my makeup. When I strolled outside a couple of minutes later, I found Mom standing next to JT's car, talking to JT through the open window. She scuttled off before I got close enough to hear what they were talking about. I decided it would be a good idea to keep her away from JT.
“Sorry about my mother,” I said as I opened the back door and dropped my laptop bag on the backseat.
He started the car. “No need to apologize.”
I slid into the passenger seat and snapped myself in. “I've tried to tell her she can't follow an FBI agent. It's gotta be against the law, isn't it?”
“It's against the law to interfere in an FBI investigation.” He maneuvered the car out of the parking spot.
“If you'd explain that to her, it might go better. She's more likely to believe you than me.”
“Already did.” After waiting for a break in traffic, he pulled the car onto the road.
“Good.” Knowing my mom, that wouldn't completely stop her from tailing me. She smoked marijuana, and that was against the law. But it might inspire her to keep a wider distance between her and us.
In ten minutes, we rolled up in front of Patty Yates's home, another typical 1980s construction, with brick facing and vinyl siding. A mound of woodchips graced the perimeter of the foundation. Weeds poked out of the chips, here and there, but otherwise, the outside of the home was tidy.
Inside, we soon learned, was even more pristine. Spotless. Everything was white. Walls. Floors. Window coverings.
Mr. Yates, who was as immaculately groomed as his home, welcomed us, leading us back to the great room in the rear of the first floor. The kitchen was on the left, a sunken family room on the right. “How can I help you, Agent? I've already told the police everything I know, which isn't much.”
Other books
A Midwife Crisis by Lisa Cooke
Last Second Chance by Caisey Quinn
Caitlin by Jade Parker
The Undertaker's Widow by Phillip Margolin
Nearest Thing to Crazy by Elizabeth Forbes
Shimmer: A Novel by Passarella, John
Shelter You by Montalvo-Tribue, Alice
Backward by Andrew Grey
Twice Bitten by Chloe Neill
The Star by Arthur C. Clarke
