When his gaze returned to her, she held up a folder filled with pamphlets and detailed plans of the three-thousand-square-foot homes with two and three bathrooms. “I like the Tuscon home the best,” she said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she said, trying not to stare at his broad shoulders or well-built arms. “I like the large kitchen and the three-car garage.”
He looked at her old beat-up Volvo with its dented fender and bald tires.
“A girl can dream, can’t she?”
“Yeah,” he agreed, “a girl can dream.”
She found herself smiling at him. The way he was looking into her eyes made her wonder if he was coming on to her. He was definitely cute, and the idea of him noticing her at all made her feel good. After Casey broke up with her, she’d lost her confidence.
“I know why you’re here,” he said.
Her heart skipped a couple of beats. “You do?”
His smile reached his expressive eyes as he slipped his card through the opening in the window.
The card landed on the passenger seat. She picked it up and read it. “Magnus Vitalis, handyman, there isn’t anything I can’t fix.”
His smile widened, revealing straight white teeth, making her take a closer look. Not only was he charming, he had no idea what she was doing parked across the street. He was definitely coming on to her, and she liked it. “I have to go,” she said, wishing she could stay and talk to him. There was something about him that made her insides do funny things. “It was nice meeting you.”
“The pleasure was all mine…”
He was waiting for her to tell him her name.
“Kat,” she said, inwardly groaning. “Kat Sylvester.” She would have told him her real name if Lizzy’s number one rule was
not
to give anyone a name while on surveillance duty.
“If you come back tomorrow, Kat, I’ll give you a private tour of one of the finished homes.”
“I wish I could, but I’m busy tomorrow,” she said. “It was nice meeting you, Magnus. I better go.”
He stepped away from her window, and she put her foot on the gas, already regretting not giving him her number. He was
super hot and extremely personable. What harm would it do to have lunch or a cup of coffee with him?
Damn.
Kat Sylvester?
She rolled her eyes, and then took in a deep breath as she concentrated on the stretch of road ahead of her. She thought about the van and the garbage bags and decided she was being paranoid. If she kept it up, she’d end up with stomach ulcers. More often than not, she wondered why she was in this business at all. Ever since her sister, Mary, had disappeared, she’d imagined herself as a criminal profiler. She preferred to look at the crimes
after
they were committed—not before, and certainly not during. She wanted to analyze information from the crime scene: blood splatters and ballistic reports. The idea of working with criminal investigators and detectives appealed to her. She would gather information, make lists, and check them twice. Hard facts along with deductive reasoning would give her a clear and logical list of suspects.
She exhaled. She’d been working with Lizzy Gardner for nearly two years. If not for Lizzy, she might never have found out what had happened to her sister. Finding the truth had given her closure, and yet knowing Mary was gone forever hadn’t helped fill the hole in her heart. Maybe because Mary wasn’t the only one she’d lost. In a way, she’d lost her entire family. Her dad had left home and her mom had begun to drink. Jessica had tried clinging to her brother, but he hadn’t been able to take the pressure, and now lived across the country. Nothing had been the same since. Nothing would ever be the same again. But still, the idea of quitting her job didn’t feel right. She looked up to Lizzy, thought of her as an older sister. Once she had her degree, Jessica thought, she would move on. Until then, she would just have to deal.
Sacramento
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Lizzy sat on the edge of Brittany’s bed and watched her niece as Brittany typed what appeared to be a hundred words per minute on the keyboard. A self-portrait Brittany had drawn in her art class hung on the wall, tilted to one side. Brittany didn’t look anything like her mother or her aunt. Green cat eyes, a small nose, and high cheekbones gave her an exotic look.
Movie and boy-band posters had been taken down, Lizzy noticed. The walls of Brittany’s bedroom were now painted a dark maroon. The floor was covered with clothes, binders, and CDs. Jewelry, mostly pendants dangling off long chains, hung from wooden pegs screwed into one of the walls. Dirty clothes filled the hamper, spilling out onto the floor. A large whiteboard covered the wall directly in front of Brittany’s computer. Lyrics from a song she didn’t recognize were scribbled across the board in different colors of dry-erase markers, along with cryptic messages only another teenager would be able to decipher. There used to be a framed picture of the two of them on the dresser next to the bed. It was gone. Or maybe it was hidden beneath the magazines and empty bag of chips. It was hard to tell.
“How’s cheerleading going?”
“I quit,” Brittany said, her fingers not missing a beat on the keyboard.
“Why? I thought being a cheerleader was all you ever dreamed about?”
“Dumb little-kid dreams.”
“You’re not even sixteen.”
The keyboard noises stopped. Brittany swiveled around in her desk chair and pinned Lizzy with a serious look. “Why are you here?”
“Is there something wrong with my wanting to visit my favorite niece?”
“Mom called you, didn’t she?”
“What’s going on, Brittany?”
“What do you mean?”
“You quit cheerleading. Your room looks like the local dump. Your grades are slipping. And look at your hair, for God’s sake. Don’t play dumb with me, and I won’t play dumb with you.”
Brittany swiveled another quarter of a turn so that she could look at herself in the mirrored closet door. “What’s wrong with my hair?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to make sure you were listening.”
Brittany released a frustrated breath and then said, “Can you handle the truth?”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“I’m trying to forget everything that happened with that sicko Spiderman. I really am, but I can’t. One minute I’ll be doing my own thing, enjoying my friends, and then suddenly his face will pop into my mind when I least expect it and BAM! It’s over. I can’t think. I can’t concentrate. I followed the therapist’s advice. I really did. I became more involved at school. I filled my time with activities I enjoy doing. I write my feelings down in a journal. But it’s not working.” Brittany’s eyes glistened, but her resolve not to cry was apparent in the firm set of her jaw. “I can’t get his face or his voice out of my mind.”
Lizzy’s head fell, her chin nearly touching her chest. She felt responsible. She
was
responsible. Samuel Jones/Spiderman had gone after Brittany to get to Lizzy, and it had worked. But she would never say as much to her niece because that would serve only to make Brittany feel guilty for speaking up. And that’s not why she was here.
“I’m not blaming you,” Brittany said.
“I know you’re not.” Lizzy picked up her head and met her niece’s gaze straight on. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me and my sister.” She swallowed a knot in her throat, thankful that her niece was alive and in one piece after all she’d been through. “You know that, right?”
Brittany nodded.
“Don’t ever forget that. You’re doing everything right, Brittany. Just promise me one thing.”
Brittany waited for Lizzy to elaborate.
“Promise me you’ll call me if you ever need someone to talk to, all right?”
Brittany nodded again. “When is Hayley getting out of jail?”
“Any day now.”
“You said that same thing three weeks ago.”
“You’re right. I thought we would be able to get her out by now. Jared is working on it. We both are.”
“I have a savings account,” Brittany said. “How much do you need for bail money?”
“It’s not that easy.”
“It’s OK,” Brittany said. “I know you’re trying. Did Mom tell you that she’s seeing Dad?”
“No, she didn’t.” Lizzy marveled at how her niece could change the subject within the blink of an eye. “How do you feel about that?”
Brittany shrugged. “He’s my dad. I love him. I was angry with him for a while, but then I realized Mom is no angel either, and there are two sides to every story.”
Lizzy was not a fan of her ex-brother-in-law, but the kid had a point. He was Brittany’s dad and she loved him, which meant Lizzy needed to try to like him, too. Lizzy held up her keys and jingled them in the air. “Want to go for a drive?”
Brittany’s eyes lit up, reminding Lizzy of better days.
“You’re going to let me drive your new car?”
“Yep.”
“What about Mom?”
“Before running to the grocery store, she gave me her blessing and wished us luck.”
Brittany swiveled back around, shut down her computer, and said, “Let’s go.”
Davis
Friday, May 4, 2012
Lizzy couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so relaxed. Seeing Brittany this week had definitely helped her mood. She sat on the couch in her usual position: feet tucked under her as she sipped her wine and listened to Jared talk about his day. It was good to see him opening up. He was the strong one in their relationship, the listener, the composed FBI agent. But as soon as the conversation turned to his work on the Lovebird Killer case, he became tense and withdrew slightly.
“Talk to me,” she said. “Tell me what’s going on.”
He looked at her, his eyes probing hers, no doubt trying to determine how much she could handle, but his phone rang before he could continue.
Lizzy went to the kitchen to give him some privacy. When Jared finished with the call, she returned with a large bowl of popcorn.
“Looks like I’ll be leaving again tomorrow,” he said. His brows slanted inward. “No Rice Krispies Treats?” he asked.
“I thought we should stay away from sugar for a while,” Lizzy said. When she’d stopped working out with the late Anthony Melbourne, she’d taken up running. What had started out as a
jog through the neighborhood every once in a while had turned into a five-mile run at the park near her office. She ran at least four days a week and she was in the best shape of her life. The other thing Melbourne had lectured his clients about was his disgust with sugar, which he referred to as white poison. Exactly why she had decided to give up her beloved Rice Krispies. She took a seat on the couch and told Jared it was his turn to pick the movie.
While he examined the endless rows of DVDs for something to watch, Hannah jumped onto Lizzy’s lap, purring and begging for attention.
Jared rubbed his hands together, pulled three DVDs from the movie rack, and held them up for her to see. “
Crank
,
Commando
, or
The Big Lebowski
.”
“That’s easy,” she said.
“
Commando
, huh?”
She shook her head. “
Crank
.”
“Really? I thought you were more of a Schwarzenegger than a Statham kind of gal.”
“You don’t even know me,” she said, marveling at how there was always something new to learn about Jared, despite the fact that they had dated in high school and shared a long history.
He set the movies on the table, and then moved the cat out of his way so he could sit next to Lizzy and wrap her in his arms. “You’re right,” he said. “Tell me something about you that I don’t already know.”
His serious tone took her by surprise. “I hate pickles,” she told him.
“Tell me it isn’t so.”
“I’m scared to death of earthquakes,” she added.
“Hmmm,” he said, before nibbling on her earlobe.
“When I was twelve,” she went on, “I went to an ice-skating party. Hours later, they had to drag me off the ice. For years, I dreamed of being a figure skater.”
He pulled away slightly and gazed lovingly at her. “I bet you would have been an Olympian by now.”
“Your turn,” she said with a smile. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
He thought for a moment. “I like apple juice on my Cheerios.”
Her nose wrinkled. “That’s disgusting.”
“I’m pretty good at skipping stones. Fifteen skips is my record.”
“Nice.”
“I couldn’t tie my shoelaces until I was seven years old.”
“Oh, no,” she said, complete with a seriously worried face. “I’m sorry.”
It was Jared’s turn to smile.
After a long week and another long day at the office today, it felt good to unwind, especially wrapped within Jared’s arms. “Want to know something else?” she asked.
“I do.”
“I’d rather make love than watch a movie.”
Without hesitating, Jared stood, scooped her into his arms, and carried her to the closest bedroom. “I have a lot to learn about you, Lizzy Gardner.”
With her arms wrapped around his neck, she laid her head against his shoulder and said, “No worries. We have plenty of time.”
The first good-looking girl I see tonight is going to die.
—Edmund Kemper
Sacramento
Monday, May 7, 2012
Lizzy sat in her Ford Escape and watched the Simpson house from less than a block away. The street was quiet. No children playing outside. No dogs barking. Just Lizzy all alone with her thoughts. The funny thing about surveillance work, Lizzy thought, was that although she was the one doing the watching, she often felt as if
she
were the one being watched.
Her car doors were locked. There were no thick hedges or dark alleyways for someone to hide in. She had nothing to worry about, she told herself, but somebody needed to tell that to her rapidly beating heart. She drew in a deep breath and tried to collect herself.
Next, she counted to five.
Breathe. Think about the weather
. Despite the continuous rain of the past week, there was only a light sprinkle today. Spring was definitely in the air, she decided as she watched a wild rabbit scurry across the empty lot next to Simpson’s place.