Kiss Me Awake (15 page)

Jaida crumpled to the floor, her hands pressed to her face, the hot tears trickling through her fingers. Spencer wanted her to run to him, to throw her arms around his neck and love him. But she couldn’t do it. She was broken, defective. She didn’t know how to let someone love her or how to love back, and she wouldn’t martyr her heart for a cause that would lay her bare and leave her defenseless.

She wiped her eyes with her fingers and slowly lifted her face. The light from the lowering sun glinted on the mirrored chest and she startled, drawing back from the distorted image, the hollow eyes that stared straight through to her soul.

Stripped bare of every pretense, she was seeing herself from the inside out. She flattened her palm over it, willing the image away, but the ugliness that masked her face and the mocking eyes were still staring back between the slats of her fingers.

What have I become?

It was distant—the faint, almost raspy mewling, but the quiet sound was like a jolting crash of cymbals in her head, jarring her from this supernatural spell.

She dropped her hand from the cool, mirrored surface. There was nothing there to see now except the oily imprint of her palm and fingers. Had she imagined it?

She stood and looked around her for some explanation, but there was nothing, just the whining meow. She tracked the sound to the foyer and opened the front door. Uninvited, a white ball of fur made the leap over the doorstep and into the house as if it belonged there.

“Where did you come from?” Jaida scooped the scraggly kitten up in her arms and nestled it close to her chest. Did it belong to Marilyn? She stepped outside and looked up at the house next to hers. It didn’t appear anyone was home to ask.

She carried it to the end of the stone walk, stopping short of the gate to look up and down the boardwalk. There was no one about other than a few straggling beachgoers carrying their ice chests and beach towels to their vehicles.

She lifted the kitten up and looked into its pitiful gray-flecked eyes. “Who do you belong to?” A pink tongue poked out as if to taunt her.

Jaida dug her fingers into the fur and felt for some identification, but the scraggy neck underneath was bare. No collar, no tag. Must be a stray. She carried it inside and set it on the kitchen floor with a bowl of milk then rummaged through the cupboards for something that would satisfy its palate and fill its belly.

A can of Swanson chicken was shoved in the back corner. That should do the trick. She ran the tin can under the opener and loosened the packed chunks with the tines of a fork then set it down beside the milk.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the kitten, she stroked the fur that clung to its bony spine, thinking back to the things Spencer had said. Where did he see her and Lance together? Was it at the botanical gardens? If so, then he’d witnessed more than he’d mentioned. Her face heated with a fresh wave of shame.

Lance may have been with her this afternoon, but emotionally she arrived and left alone, and in between, she’d taken the liberty of remembering Spencer taking a knee in the middle of that dusty ball diamond. She bit into her quivering lip, resisting the emotion the memory stirred. Her big mistake had been saying yes.

The kitten brushed against her thigh bringing her thoughts back to the present. Sluggish, it carried its full belly into the living room and leapt into a chair. Jaida pushed up from the floor. She pulled the lid from the magnet still dangling on the opener then dropped it into the trash along with the empty can.

What reason would Lance have to meet with Spencer? Was it part of the investigation through internal affairs? And how did he know about Spencer in the first place? She hadn’t told anyone about him, about her life.

She rinsed her hands under the faucet, glancing at the clock on the microwave. She couldn’t think about this right now. It was a distraction she didn’t have time for. Both Lance and Spencer had thrown her day off while her work sat on the desk untouched. And she still hadn’t talked to Auggie about the tape.

Jaida dried her hands and slipped inside her office. She switched on the lamp and pulled the desk chair up behind her. The first folder she opened contained two photographs and she held them up. In rich digital colors, William Gale and his former political aide, Marcus Dennison, stared up at her, their eyes bright with life. She tilted the picture under the light and took a long look at their faces wondering if Dennison was cut from the same cloth as Gale.

“Don’t judge a book by its cover, and don’t judge a man’s character by his photo,” she mumbled to herself. Dennison sold Gale out. Why? Was it a moral decision or a political one? Or something else entirely?

She dropped her head back and blew out a heavy breath. Did any of those things matter? Dennison’s motives could be speculated on and debated until the cows came home, but those questions didn’t get her any closer to her mother.

Dennison handed them everything they needed to charge Gale with money laundering and end his political career, but now there was no trace of the money and the accounts were closed. What could she do with that?

Jaida rested her chin in the cup of her palm and stared into the image of Gale’s long, lean face. It was disturbing—his soulless blue gaze too much like what she’d seen in her own eyes just a little while ago.

The similarity was undeniable. She couldn’t stop the shudder that gripped her body and left her shaking.
God help me.
Was that a prayer? And if it was a prayer, would God answer and save her from herself? Save her from becoming like the man she despised?

Her visual shift to the second photo was quick and deliberate, but that image was just as unsettling as the first, and she looked away. The slain corpse of Marcus Dennison was sprawled on his bedroom floor. She’d seen the graphic display of his death many times over, but there were some things you never grew immune to.

Her eyes watered, and she blinked to clear her vision, giving herself some time before she looked at it again—at the face hidden underneath the layers of caked and dried blood. It had been a brutal death at the hands of a malevolent being.

It was in that moment that everything changed. This was no longer just about her, about finding who she was. William Gale took this man’s life, took him away from his family. And somehow she was going to prove it.

Auggie
raged, his dark eyes stormy. “You what?” he yelled, jerking to his feet. The desk chair rolled out from under him and slammed into the file cabinet behind.

Jaida flinched, her stoic demeanor wavering under the pressure. He was just getting warmed up, but she was prepared to take whatever he dished out. She’d earned the fullness of his wrath and then some. 

From the hallway, curious eyes watched the fireworks through the office window like Auggie’s reprimand was a sideshow. With one well-placed kick, his foot sent his overflowing trashcan in motion, its airborne contents scattering across the floor like confetti at a parade.

But this was no celebration. He crossed to the window and gave the cord on the blinds a yank. Cheap white vinyl tumbled down over the sheet of glass, shutting the spectators out.

Eyes wide, Jaida pressed a hand to her mouth. She guessed he wasn’t as good at pretending that they didn’t have an audience as
she was. But her co-workers didn’t have to watch to know what was happening. Not when they could hear it all the way down the hall.

Auggie slammed his fist into his open palm and Jaida reared back as though he’d hit her. He was back behind his desk. A thick, corded, blue vein bulged at his temple beneath a layer of purpling skin. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the next round.

“I trusted you with this. How could you have been so careless?”

She looked at him, saw the strain in his face and eyes and opened her mouth to offer a defense, but what defense could she give? She’d messed up. 

He gripped his hand across the back of his head, his face a mixture of fading rage and empty defeat. “How many times have I told you not to take anything out of here unless it’s a copy?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I know an apology means nothing considering what my actions have cost us, but…”

“Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure that you didn’t just misplace it?” He looked at her with the same desperation she felt burning inside. But she was sure. She wouldn’t be standing here if she wasn’t.

Jaida turned her face away and shook her head. “It’s gone, Auggie.”

“Have you checked your office at home, here at work, your car, your purse?” Without taking a breath, he rattled off all the possible places the tape might be. Places that she had already considered and already searched.

“I’ve torn apart everything in my house, my car, and my office. It’s gone.”

He stared at the calendar dangling from a thumbtack. He was probably wishing that it read “April 1” and this was all some kind of tasteless prank. 

Auggie clamped his hands over his head then slid them down to the back of his neck and paced the floor, shoving the litter from his wastebasket aside with his foot.  Would he fire her now?

She flopped into a chair and threw her hands up. “None of this makes any sense. The same day I brought the tape home, I put it on a shelf in my office and I never touched it. I planned to review it one more time and fill in any gaps in my notes, but when I went to get it, it was gone.”

Auggie stopped his pacing and waved a hand, silencing her. “Wait a minute, wait a minute.” He came around the desk then shoved a stack of papers back and sat on the edge right in front of her.

Resting his palms against his thighs he leaned so close that she could see what was left of the Rolaids tablet on the center of his tongue. Great. She was probably giving him ulcers.

“Now let’s just slow down and backtrack a few steps here,” he said. “When was the last time you saw the tape?”

Jaida frowned. When
had
she seen it last? She remembered taking it out of her handbag and sliding it onto the shelf along with her files. She went out that evening and that was seven, maybe eight days ago. She’d been busy and hadn’t touched it since.

“The last time I remember seeing it was about a week ago. That was the day I brought it home.”

“Who could have taken it? Who would have known what it was, known where it was, and had the opportunity, Jaida? Think.” He tapped the side of his head with his forefinger, the tension between the two of them mounting once again.

Jaida raised a hand in the air and let it fall limply into her lap. “No one. I don’t even allow anyone in my office. I would never be…” Her mind flashed to Lance’s back, his hunched head, standing in front of that same shelf in her office. She chewed the inside of her cheek.
It couldn’t be. Could it?

She remembered Carina’s warning, but that was about the money. “Lance.” His name was out of her mouth before she could stop it.

The air grew deathly still, and Auggie’s eyes narrowed to angry slits. “What about Lance?”  

“No.” Lance was not a plausible choice. She pressed her hands to her lips and thought back to that day, then gave her head a shake. “No, he would have no reason to take it…he…”

“Let me decide that.” His voice was low and monotone, his expression so dark, so dangerous, it made her heart stall in her chest.

“Now.” He clasped his hands together and leaned back on the desk. “What about Lance?”  

“It’s nothing really. I came back from a swim and he was waiting for me outside my door. I invited him in. I took a quick shower, and when I was through, I found him in my office. He said he was showing himself around.” She spread her hands. “He came out empty-handed, Auggie.”

His feet hit the floor, and he was pacing again. “What about his pockets? Did you check those?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, sure, I always ask to frisk my guests.”

“Our one crucial piece of evidence and that worthless scum waltzes off with it.” Auggie swore and sent his fist crashing into the wall. The framed, autographed baseball program bounced off the head of the nail that it hung from, and with a deft sweep of his hand, he caught it by the edge and set it back in place.

Jaida shoved herself up from the chair. “What makes you so sure he’s the one who took it?” Wasn’t he internal affairs? Why would he steal the evidence?

“Because my gut tells me he took it.”

“Since when is that enough to go on? And even if it was it still doesn’t explain his motive. You’ve seen his file, his awards. He does his job. Besides, what possible reason could he have for undermining this case?”

His eyes flashed. “Yeah. He does his job all right. But I happen to know the man a little better than you think.”

Jaida frowned at his cryptic comment. What was that supposed to mean?

“Look, he was asking about you earlier. I want you to pay him a visit and see what it is he wants. Do what you can to feel this out. Play it like he was any other punk you’re trying to get information out of.”

Should she tell him Lance was with internal affairs? He’d asked for her silence on that. Was he lying to her? Was she that gullible? He showed her his ID, but was it a fake?