Deadly Intersections (9 page)

She shrugged. “Sometimes. But for now I rent.”

“Alone?”

Suddenly she felt uncomfortable. She knew Biz was only half joking and the comment unnerved her. “For now,” she replied simply. “So what do you picture when you see yourself sitting at home?”

Biz stared out the window. Her unruly hair dropped back over her eyes, adding to her sexiness. “Well, I want many things, but I guess I’m looking for a loft, something that reminds me of New York. Maybe downtown. I know I don’t want anything remotely close to suburbia. I can’t stand the cookie-cutter look.”

“Me either,” she agreed. “So you want something urban. What about a converted industrial place?”

Biz’s face brightened. “That would be great. With lots of windows and open space. Do you know anything like that?”

“Yes, there’s a new development near Chase Field. It was a factory and they remodeled each floor into four separate lofts. I’ve seen the website and it looks fantastic.”

“That sounds perfect. Can you show me?”

“Sure. I’ll pull it up for you.”

She clicked through a series of screens while Biz pulled her chair around next to her. “It’s called Trombetta Dwellings and it’s a relatively new developer who wants to come in and save the inner cities. It’s got a ton of amenities including a fitness center and a spa. And they’re opening retail shops down in the lobby for the residents. Places like a dry cleaners and a pharmacy.”

“That would be so convenient,” Biz murmured as she studied the plans. “I hate to shop.” Ari giggled and they faced each other.

“What?” Biz laughed.

She shook her head and gazed into the brown eyes—but only for a second. She felt heat flow through her body. “I hate shopping too. I’d have everything delivered if I could.”

“Errands,” Biz whispered. Ari felt her breath float across the top of her ear. “The enemy of Saturday morning.” They both chuckled while Ari clicked through the pages of the website. When the interiors appeared on the screen, Biz leaned forward and studied the layout. “This looks great. When can I see it?”

“I could call them tomorrow morning and make an appointment, but they’re very expensive.”

She grinned. “What? You don’t think I can afford it? Make the appointment.”

“When are you available?”

“Any time. Let me know.”

She was staring into her eyes, lost. When Biz moved closer, Ari jumped. “I’ll set up the appointment as soon as possible and call you. And I’m sorry if I sounded like I was judging you,” she added, as she walked her out to her car, a ’67 Shelby 350.

“Don’t worry about it,” Biz said. “I consider it a plus that in my profession I get to wear my entire collection of concert T-shirts. The downside is that people usually think I’m homeless and unemployed.”

She laughed. “I wish I had that freedom.”

Biz’s eyes wandered up and down her body. “And so, Ms. Adams, what would you choose to wear if you weren’t shackled by the fashion sense of the rich snobs who judge your clothes the first time they meet you?”

“I don’t know. Something casual.”

Biz touched her arm. “I’ll bet you’d look fantastic in a pair of tight leather pants and a tank top. It would go great with your new motorcycle.”

She rolled her eyes at the mention of her father’s recent birthday present. “I don’t think so,” she said.

“Have you ridden it yet?”

She shook her head, conscious that Biz still held her arm.

“My offer still stands. I’d be glad to teach you how to ride.”

“I don’t think so. I’ll probably just sell it when I have time.”

“That would be a terrible waste.” She tipped Ari’s chin until they gazed into each other’s eyes. “I want you to make me a promise.”

“What?” she whispered.

Biz’s finger stroked the side of her cheek, and her knees went weak. “I want you to promise me that before you sell that incredible machine you’ll at least let me take you out on it. You need to know what you’re missing.”

She closed her eyes momentarily, oblivious to Biz’s words. When she finally opened them, Biz was grinning.
She knows she has power over me
.

With that thought she burst the bubble Biz had wrapped her in and scowled. “You’ve broken every rule we agreed to. You’ve flirted. You’ve touched me, and you’ve clearly made a pass at me.”

Biz shook her head in disagreement. “I haven’t made a pass at you, at least nothing really overt.”

“And what would you call that last move?”

Biz hooked her finger inside Ari’s waistband. “That was just testing the waters. Do you really want to know how I make a pass at a woman, an incontrovertible and obvious pass?”

She remained motionless, unable to move or speak. Biz was too close and the sexual energy between them was debilitating. She just stood there, praying Biz would leave soon, before Lorraine came out or Molly drove up. Of course if Molly pulled up right at that moment, they would make the newspapers, for she’d pull her gun out and kill Biz.

But Biz just continued to smile, her finger stroking Ari’s belly. “If I were really going to make a pass, I’d kiss you. I’d kiss you hard. I’d kiss you so deeply that I’d pull all the breath out of you.”

Biz’s comment rang in her ears, and she was too stunned to respond. Common sense pulled her away, and she retreated inside the office. She leaned against the wall for support. She remained there, breathing deeply until the sound of the Shelby’s engine roared out of the neighborhood.

The woman called Checkers clucked her tongue four, five, six times—a nervous tick she could no longer control. It was an inevitable holdover from her days as a smoker, a habit she hadn’t been able to afford for years.

Seven. Eight. Nine. 

The Greyhound bus terminal was busy since it was a Monday, and the security guards wouldn’t notice her for a while. She slipped into a molded plastic chair in the bustling lobby and glanced up at the TV in the corner. Her favorite show
Law and Order
was playing, featuring Briscoe and Green. She loved Lennie Briscoe. He reminded her of Sully with his thick New York accent and his “tell it like it is” attitude.

She missed Sully, but that was a lifetime ago back when she had a home. 

And Laurie. Her dear, sweet Laurie.

Tears welled in her eyes, and she sniffed. No point in thinking about the old days. They were over and would never return. Sully was dead and Laurie was gone. Briscoe and Green stood over a body, a crimson stain at the base of his skull. She shuddered involuntarily at the sight. So much violence, so much blood. Or had she imagined it?

It hadn’t seemed real. Her dear friend Professor Shakespeare had bought her a hamburger, and she’d taken it back to the old schoolhouse and eaten it in the empty classroom that faced the swingset. No one was there to bother her, and she loved watching the children play.

Ten, eleven, twelve.

Pictures scrolled through her mind like the old-time movies at the Coney Island arcade. She’d pay her penny and crank the handle, watching the sepia images flip over one on top of the other, faster and faster.

Like the swinging. The little girl going higher and higher, a smile on her face. Just like her Laurie. Laurie loved the swings.

She’d seen the dark man coming before the little girl. He looked wrong. He wasn’t supposed to be there. She couldn’t call out to her! It was like watching TV. There was nothing she could do to help Briscoe and Green.

Then he stood in front of her, the gun in his hand. She had tapped on the window and cried out—too late!

The little girl on the dirt, a halo of red over her heart, like the one Briscoe and Green saw. There was more, but the images were turning. Too fast! She couldn’t stop to see. And the blood on her hands. How did the blood get there?

“Checkers, what are you doing here?” a baritone voice asked.

She grinned and met his stare. “Just hangin’, Bruce.”

He laughed. “Aw, Checkers. You know I can’t let you stay here. Rules are rules even if you remind me of my grandmother.”

She continued to smile at the tall, thin black man who couldn’t be more than twenty-five. He barely filled out his uniform, and the sight of him reminded her of the first time she’d seen Sully in his military dress blues. She’d fallen in love with him at that very moment.

“C’mon, Checkers. I’ll buy you a Coke.”

Bribery always worked. She pulled herself up, grateful to get something out of the deal. That was life on the streets. If it didn’t work for you, it wasn’t your friend. 

She walked with him to the concessions stand, checking her pocket for the five dollar bill that a kind, well-dressed lady had slipped her that morning.

Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.

Still, there was something important to remember, but she couldn’t think of it. The pictures. The blood.

Bruce handed her the cup of promised refreshment, and she shuffled to the doorway, her eyes glancing up at the TV screen over the bar. She stopped, almost dropping her drink in the process. A woman sat at a news desk, a stack of papers in her hand, her serious expression recounting the details of a tragic accident on the Beeline Highway. Checkers couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Bold white script bannered the bottom of the picture, announcing the woman as Laurel Ann Jeffries.

Her Laurie.

Molly popped two aspirin, glanced at the third one that had fallen into her hand and downed it as well. She rubbed her temples and stared at the Perez file. The interview with Hector Cervantes had left her cold. It was clear that the only person he cared for besides himself was his brother. If Hector felt Maria Perez was a threat to Raul, Molly knew she would’ve paid.

“Nelson,” a voice called from the doorway.

She closed her eyes for an instant, wishing Captain David Ruskin would vanish, but when she looked up he’d entered her office, his jacket thrown over his shoulder, obviously leaving for the day.

“Where are we with Perez?”

His voice sounded accusatory, as if the killer should be caught by now. “We’ve got some leads. It’s looking like it might be gang related.”

He rolled his eyes. “Since when do gangs take out kids?”

She knew there was no point in explaining the investigation to him. He really had no interest in the facts and would never engage in any type of information exchange with her. “It’s just a possibility,” she said.

“We need more than that, Nelson. We need results. You and Williams ought to be able to handle
one
major investigation now that Edgington’s file is closed. It’s not like you’ve got a lot more on your plate, right?”

“Give her a break, Dave.”

She shifted her gaze to the large figure in the doorway, a man the size of a bear—Big Jack Adams. She swallowed hard and wished she could crawl under her desk.

Ruskin said nothing as he shuffled his feet. Adams moved very close and dwarfed him.

“I can’t imagine you’ve been out in the field within the last decade. I doubt you know how hard Detective Nelson is working.”

Molly bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

Ruskin’s whole face moved but he said nothing. Without ever acknowledging Jack, he barked, “I want something concrete by tomorrow,” before he stomped out.

Jack waved good-bye and chuckled. “I’m Jack Adams, and you’re Molly Nelson.”

She nodded and met his strong handshake. “Great to meet you. Thanks for all of your help with the John Rondo investigation,” she said, referring to a case he’d helped her with a few months before.

He crammed his large body into the visitor’s chair. “I should thank you. I guess I miss being in the game. Retirement hasn’t been an easy adjustment.”

“I can only imagine. I don’t know what I’d do if I wasn’t a cop.”

He met her gaze and nodded. She felt a kinship with him, and when she looked at his face, she saw traces of Ari. Her cell phone rang with Ari’s ringtone, the old Safaris’ song
Wipeout.

“Um, excuse me, but I have to take this.”

She jumped out of the chair and went to the hallway. “Hey.”

“Hi, baby. How was your day?”

“Great.” She glanced toward her office. Jack was studying her two framed commendations. “Aren’t you going to dinner with your dad?”

“Yeah, but that’s not until eight. I’m taking him out for Greek. If nothing else it’ll be entertaining and give us a few conversation starters.”

“It can’t be that bad, can it? I’ve heard he’s a great guy.”

Ari sighed. “It’s just hard, babe. There’s a lot of history, you know? He threw me out, remember? Disowned his gay daughter?”

“Of course, honey. I understand. Forget what I said. This case really has me bummed. We had to go to the coroner’s today and watch the autopsy. I can’t tell you how hard it was.”

“Honey, I’m sorry. You would’ve been better off with the Edgington case.”

“Well, I’m gonna get whoever did this. The mother’s totally distraught and confused. It’s not like the girl had any enemies.” Hector Cervantes’s smug grin flashed in her memory—she quickly thought better than to worry Ari about the details of their encounter. “We have a few leads. Someone, maybe the killer, was watching from a room inside the school. I hate that damn school,” she added absently. “The whole place should be leveled to get rid of all the dealers and junkies.”