Liquid Smoke (18 page)

I forced my eyes open. I’d fallen asleep on the sofa. And the phone was ringing.

I scrambled around in the dark living room and found the phone on the dining room table. “Hello?”

“Well, I decided I’m not the patient type,” Landon Keene said.

The fogginess from sleep lifted immediately, and I gripped the phone tighter.

“Kid, you listening?” he said.

“Fuck you.”

“Good, good,” he said. “Like I said, I’m not good with patience. Decided I couldn’t leave it to you to make the right decision. Know what I mean?”

My fingers tingled. “No.”

“You seem a little stubborn. Just like your old man. Couldn’t risk that you’d do something dumb. Like repeating what he told you.”

“You better run, asshole,” I said. “I’ve already told the cops about your operation. They’re coming for you. And I hope they have to shoot you to catch you.”

“That right?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Guess I made the right decision then.”

My skin went cold and I couldn’t find any words.

The line buzzed. The room lit up for a moment as lightning struck in the distance. He knew he had me.

“The look in her eyes,” he said, a soft laugh drifting through the phone. “She was so surprised to see me.”

The room hollowed out. My heart rate accelerated like someone had pushed a button. Spots started flashing between my eyes. I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Carolina and left her alone.

“If you—”

“I did. Maybe now you’ll get it.” He hung up.

I dialed Carolina’s number twice as I sped from Mission Beach to Bay Park. No answer.

I called Carter. He answered on the first ring.

“Where are you?” I yelled.

“Driving around,” he said. “I’m showing—”

“Get to my mother’s! Now!”

“Ten minutes,” he said and hung up.

I threw the phone at the floor of the Jeep, so angry for listening to her and letting her convince me she could take care of herself. Not taking Keene seriously enough.

I’d fucked up.

The Jeep hydroplaned through the puddles on Morena, spraying water like giant rooster tails. People were honking and flashing their brights at me as I swerved around them.

I slammed on the brakes in front of Carolina’s house, sliding nearly twenty feet before coming to a crooked stop. Carter’s Ram Charger did the same on the opposite side of the street.

“What happened?” Carter yelled through the rain.

“Tell her to stay in the car,” I yelled back, gesturing at Miranda as I drew my gun.

He yelled something to her and produced his own gun.

I sprinted up the walk and saw a light on through the front window. I felt Carter right on my heels.

I hit the front door with my shoulder at full speed, and it collapsed like cardboard. I went down with it and somersaulted into the living room.

There was a clatter in the kitchen, and when I looked up, Carolina was aiming her own gun at us.

“Noah?” Carolina said, lowering the gun and looking at us like we’d lost our minds. “Carter? What are you doing?”

I got to my feet, the blood pulsing in my ears, and scanned the room. Everything looked fine.

“I’m not sure, Ms. B.,” Carter said, his gun still up. “Noah told me to meet him here. I followed him in.”

I kept my gun level, moving it back and forth. “You didn’t answer your phone.”

“I ran to the store,” she said, bewildered. “Noah, what is going on?”

I moved into the back of the house and checked the other rooms.

Was Keene screwing with me?

“He wasn’t here?” I asked when I came back out.

“Who?” Carolina asked, still looking at me like I was crazy.

“Keene.”

She blinked several times. “No. I was home all day. I ran to the store to get eggs. I haven’t seen him.”

“Did he call you?” I said, hearing the frustration in my voice. “No. There was nothing on the machine.”

Keene had made a point of mentioning Carolina at the airport. He wanted me to know he was watching me.
She was so surprised to see me.
Keene didn’t strike me as the type to tease. “Noah,” Carter said. “What’s going on? You’re freaking us out.” The room hollowed out again. My stomach dropped. Keene wasn’t the type to tease.
You should’ve seen her.

He knew every move I was making. Every place I’d been. Every person I’d talked to.

He’d used Carolina’s name. He hadn’t used Liz’s. But he knew.

“Wellton!” I screamed into the phone as Carter and I flew down the freeway in his car. We’d left Miranda with my mother. “Tell me you know where she is.”

I’d called her home and her cell and the station. She was nowhere to be found. Wellton was my last shot.

“Braddock?” he said, confused. “What the hell—”

“Liz! Is she with you?”

“No, man. Haven’t seen her since this afternoon. She said—” “Get someone to her house! Now!”

“What’s going on?” he said, his tone sharper now, on alert.

“Just do it! Please.”

“I’m on it,” he said and clicked off.

I clutched the phone, feeling like it could shatter against the bones in my hand.

“Come on, come on,” I said, rocking back and forth in the passenger seat.

We were halfway over the bridge now, and Carter was doing ninety.

“She can handle herself, Noah,” he said, laying on the horn as we came up on the bumper of a truck. The truck moved over quickly, and Carter accelerated. “She’s a cop.”

“Why didn’t she answer?” I asked. “Why? Fuck!”

We came to the bottom of the bridge, and he swung the huge car to the right, the rear fishtailing behind us.

“Your mom was at the store,” he said, not sounding confident. “Maybe she’s out.”

His argument was rational. She could have been out anywhere without her phone. A five-minute trip to the store or the beach.

But it didn’t feel right.

He hit the brakes, and I was out of the car before it stopped in front of her place, tumbling to the wet street, the rain stinging my face. I jumped up and ran to the house.

No lights.

I hit her door the same way I’d hit Carolina’s and pain radiated through my shoulder. Liz’s much heavier door fought me a little more, but landed on the floor with a thud, and I stumbled in on top of it.

I stood still for a moment. The room was black and quiet. All I could hear was Carter’s and my breathing and the rain spanking the pavement outside.

“Liz?” I yelled.

Nothing.

“I got upstairs,” Carter said, moving past me, his gun up and ready. “You get the kitchen?”

I took a deep breath, bent my knees, and stepped quickly from the living room into the kitchen. I rotated my gun through the room. Dishes in the sink. A napkin on the table. Lightning flashed outside the window.

No one.

I stood up and took another deep breath, trying to gain control. Maybe Keene had just played me, messed with my head. Trying to show me he was in control. He’d gotten in my head at the airport. He’d seen it, and now he was seeing what he could do to me.

I walked out of the kitchen and Carter was at the top of the stairs. He took one step down, his entire body lethargic and heavy. When I saw the expression on his face, an expression I’d never seen before—disbelief, confusion—I knew.

She was on the bed and, in the dark, appeared to be sleeping. I moved closer and felt my gun slip out of my hand and fall to the floor.

Her eyes were open and her arms outstretched, like she’d been reaching for something. A deep, red circle on her chest half a foot in diameter had stained the T-shirt she was wearing and bled into the sheet.

I sat down on the edge of the bed and touched her hand. It was still warm, and I laced my fingers with hers, squeezing hard, as though I could transfer my life to hers.

But I knew that I couldn’t.

I heard sirens in the distance and shouts downstairs, but they seemed further away.

I reached out and covered her eyes, gently pushing her lids down.

The tears fell off my face onto hers, and in the murky, rainy moonlight, it looked like it was Liz who was crying rather than me.

Commotion.

People were coming and going. Carter sat next to me on the sofa in Liz’s living room. I was vaguely aware of all this, yet completely removed from it. I wasn’t numb; I could feel a dull pain in my stomach that pulsed with each breath. It was more like I was trying to wake up and couldn’t clear my head.

Wellton was standing in front of me. “Did you hear me?”

I looked up. “What?”

His eyes were blazing in the dark room. “I asked when you last spoke to her.”

“Oh. I … um … this morning. I was here. Then I left.” “Where’d you go?” he asked.

I’d walked out of the house. Told her I’d do the right thing. That I wouldn’t let her down.

“Where did you go?” Wellton repeated, his voice seared with anger.

“I … home, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Easy,” Carter said.

Wellton pointed at Carter. “Shut the hell up. My partner is dead, and I want to know why.”

Carter stood and started yelling at him, but his words faded in the air.

I’d told her I wouldn’t let her down.

But I had.

Why had I even left her? Why hadn’t I seen it?

The ache in my stomach pulsed like a strobe. My arms and legs felt light, like they were attached but I couldn’t control them.

Two officers grabbed Carter and pulled him away from Wellton, and the words in the room exploded back into my head.

“Leave him alone!” Carter was yelling. “He found her! How do you
think
he feels?”

“She was my partner!” Wellton was screaming back, his hands now on Carter’s shirt.

“And she was more to him!” Carter yelled back, straining against the grasp of the two officers.

I knew they were talking about me, but I couldn’t engage.

I felt Liz’s hands on my face. We were standing in her doorway. Her eyes were right in front of me. I could smell her hair, her skin, feel her breath against my skin, her lips against mine.

Don’t worry about letting me down. Just do what you need to do.

I’d let her down.

I hadn’t done what I needed to do. And now she was gone.

I don’t know how long we stayed at Liz’s. I know that I tried to answer more of Wellton’s questions. I know that he and Carter continued to yell at each other. I know that Klimes and Zanella showed up at some point. And I know I saw her body come down on a stretcher beneath a white sheet.

That, for sure, I know.

At some point, Carter took me home. The rain was still pounding against the streets and his car as we drove. “We’ll find him,” Carter said.

I didn’t know who he meant, and I didn’t ask. My mouth was sealed shut, like someone had filled it with cement. My eyes stung. Something throbbed in my ears.

Carter was talking, but I was only hearing bits and pieces.

“… I don’t know where …”

A chill rattled my body. I looked across the bay as we neared Mission Beach and saw Liz standing in the water. “… and no one will …” I closed my eyes, trying to abate the stinging. “… don’t let it …”

I leaned my head against the glass, the cold window sticking against my cheek. The car was spinning.

I felt Carter’s hand on my shoulder. “Hey. Are you alright?”

My head fell forward in something resembling a nod.

I closed my eyes again, and when I opened them we were in the alley next to my place. I shoved the door open and slid out, my legs feeling awkward and stiff beneath me. I looked up, letting the rain pelt my face.

Carter appeared next to me and held out a hand to help steady me.

I waved him off and forced myself to walk toward the house. I got the door open. It was pitch black inside. I heard Carter come in behind me.

I didn’t stop until I found my bed. I collapsed into it, shut my eyes, and wished for nothing else than to never wake up.

Flashbulbs kept going off in my head, showing me snapshots I didn’t know I’d taken.

Liz and me in high school, talking in the hallway. She was a year older than me. She was telling me she wanted to interview me for the paper. I said okay.

Then she was yelling at me. We were in a parking lot. She was furious with me, and I was yelling back at her.

We were in her office. She was pointing a finger at me.

We were sitting on her deck, drinking beer. I could see her legs in the dark.

I was driving the Jeep. Liz was sitting next to me. We were on the 101, the sun setting to our left.

We were in her bed. She was on top of me, sweating, our eyes locked as we moved together.

Then we were in the ocean. I was yelling something across the water to her. My voice was coming out of my mouth, but I couldn’t make out what I was saying. She was coming toward me, the water splashing around her legs as she got closer.

I was still talking, but I couldn’t hear the words.

And then she was gone, and I was standing in the ocean by myself, still saying whatever I’d been saying, turning around in circles, looking for her.

My eyes opened, and the daylight forced me to squeeze them shut again.

I opened them more carefully this time. Muted sunlight filtered into the room. The sheets on my bed were twisted around me like ribbons, and I struggled to pull myself out of them. I pushed up and sat on the edge of the mattress. My head ached, and it felt like an entire cotton field had grown inside my mouth. I stood and walked out to the living room.

Carter was on the sofa, watching the television with the sound turned down.

He turned around. “Hey.” He reached over, grabbed the remote, and shut off the TV.