“You don’t look like a cop, Case.”
Conner returned his attention to Alexa. “No?” He had heard that once a cop, always a cop.
“Well, you do, but you don’t,” she explained. “There’s something cop-like about you, but it’s hard to put a finger on.” She paused for a moment, thinking, and then her face brightened. “I know what it is. You’ve got the manner, but not quite the look. You’re too tan, too healthy looking, not quite hard enough. Hell, look at your clothes. I’ve seen cops in uniform, and cops in suits, but never in slacks and a golf shirt. You look more like an actor playing a cop than a real cop. You know, sort of like Peterson on CSI.”
Conner smiled inwardly, amused by her insight. Maybe that’s what he was now, an actor pretending he was a cop. “I hope that’s a compliment,” he said.
She smiled. “Oh, it is. I don’t think I’d be attracted to a real cop.”
There was no longer any doubt about it—she was flirting. Conner knew it was his move.
The production schedule for Vice Squad provided by Alexa Cline’s secretary showed the crew was filming out at the Santa Monica Pier. To avoid at least some of the late afternoon traffic, Conner followed Sunset as it curved past the lushly landscaped mansions of Beverly Hills into the less well known but equally tony neighborhood of Bel Air, making decent time until he cut across to Wilshire Boulevard and turned west. Traffic was much heavier on Wilshire, but he finally made it to the coast and shelled out ten dollars to park in a small lot at the foot of the pier.The amusement area that filled the front half of the pier was crowded with boisterous youngsters getting an early start on the weekend, and the air rang with happy shouts and screams from the spiral roller coaster. The smell of popcorn, cinnamon buns and other snacks teased Conner’s nostrils as he threaded his way through the clumps of revelers, finally breaking into the open once he cleared the arcades
Conner was mystified. Stuart Chesterton had been a rising film star, known almost as much for his temper as his talent, and he had been compared favorably to DeNiro and Pacino. He’d won an Academy Award nomination for his portrayal of an offshore oil worker in Autumn Springs Eternal and had seemed on the verge of even bigger things, but somehow, his career never took off. Conner hadn’t heard his name in years.“What happened to him? He looked like a sure thing to make it big.”“Success happened,” Hollenbech explained, his voice edged with an impatience that said he seen too much of similar things. “Drugs and booze. ‘Substance abuse,’ they call it now. If you’ve got talent, they’ll put up with a lot in this business. And Chesterton had talent. But there’s one thing that’s not tolerated, and that’s being unreliable. Too much money involved. Chesterton became unreliable. He’d go on w
By the time Conner made it back to his apartment, he was bushed. He lumbered to the refrigerator and grabbed a can of beer before collapsing onto the couch. He popped the flip top and closed his eyes as he took a long pull, enjoying the icy coolness as the beer slid down his throat. The clock said it was barely 6:30, but the weariness assaulting his body and his brain made it feel more like midnight. He had not experienced a day like this in a long time. From his early morning visit to the gruesome murders scenes to his interviews with Alexa Cline and Stan Hollenbech, with a hard run at the beach and a meeting with Sloane sandwiched in between, he had been on the go all day. The pace was a far cry from his leisurely routine of the past year. Mentally and physically, he felt challenged in a way he had not been in a long time. He wasn’t sure if he liked the feeling or not.One thing he was sure of, was that he was not budging from his apartment for the rest of the evening
Early Saturday afternoon, Conner swung his BMW to the curb just up the street from a Mexican restaurant a few blocks north of Wilshire Boulevard. The restaurant occupied an unpretentious tan adobe building sandwiched between a hardware store and a discount clothes outfit, but he had eaten there before and knew the food was good. When Keith Stennie responded to Conner’s request for a meeting by suggesting they meet here for a late lunch, Conner had readily agreed. Intrigued by what he’d heard about the young writer, he wanted to form his own impression of the man behind the grisly incidents the killer was so faithfully copying.As soon as he crossed through the restaurant’s weathered wood doors, a smiling young Mexican woman in a colorfully embroidered white blouse and long black skirt pranced out from behind the hostess counter to greet him. Her shiny black hair was pulled behind her head in a thick ponytail, held in place by a wide leather band with a woode
Stennie grinned. “I stay, amigo, because I enjoy it where I am. Perhaps you do not realize, because of my many great deeds and the legends that surround me, but I am only twenty-four years old. I have much time to do other things in the years ahead. Vice Squad may be a second rate show, but within its framework of sex and violence, Senorita Cline has given me free rein to be as creative as I can. I have had mucho fun trying to outdo myself each week.” His expression darkened. “At least I was, until these terrible things began to happen.”“And now?” Conner asked, watching him closely.Stennie’s brow furrowed. “And now, my soul grows dark with worry. I wonder if somehow I am responsible for these tragedies. I, who have devoted my life to the vanquishing of evil. If I did not create these scenes, they could not come to life.” Stennie looked into Conner’s eyes, as if seeking redemption. “But a soul as dark a
Finally, Cecilia broke the stalemate. Still not sure what the ultimate answer might be, she put her finger to her lips, signaling Conner not to say anything. He watched as she turned the key and pressed the switch to close the convertible top. The black roof rose silently from the back, unfolding itself above them like a dark spectre spreading its cloak to block out the stars. When the roof locked into place with a sharp click, Cecilia put the car in gear and swung out onto Mulholland Drive.They rode in silence, winding through the hilltops until they reached the 405 freeway. The quiet hung between them like a palpable thing, weighing on Conner’s mind, emphasizing rather than masking their problem, but he dared not break Cecilia’s unspoken command. Instead, he leaned forward and switched on the radio, choosing a mellow jazz station to color the silence. Cecilia gave no notice. As they sped down the long incline toward the city, he wondered what was going through
Shrouded in the gloomy dimness of Cecilia’s underground garage, Conner slumped motionless in his car, mindlessly staring through the windshield, a mannequin with its hands glued to the steering wheel. The engine was off. He had managed to insert the key into the ignition, but that was as far as he’d gotten. His brain refused to allow further action.It had all happened so quickly. One moment he and Cecilia were in each other’s arms, lost in the tender preliminary steps of a lovemaking dance, the next she was throwing him out and slamming the door. This was no ordinary lover’s quarrel, he knew, not something that could be mended with flowers or chocolate. The estrangement ran far deeper, a rift that tore at the core of their relationship. The anger in Cecilia’s voice had struck him like a blow, leaving a deep ache clenching at his midsection. Had she physically kicked him, he doubted it could have hurt as deeply. And his mind was equally bruised. Scores of jumbled, unfinished thoughts
The Pacific storm that had heralded its arrival with surging surf on Sunday slammed into Los Angeles early Tuesday morning. The rain started with large, scattered drops splattering harmlessly against asphalt, earth and grass, but quickly turned into a driving downpour. Gusting winds drove slanting sheets of water across the entire L.A. basin, snapping tree branches and blasting umbrellas inside out. The parched ground, without rain for several months, soaked up what it could of the torrent, but most of the downpour bounced futilely off buildings, roads and parking lots, gathering itself into fast-moving rivulets that raced along gutters and sidewalks before tumbling into storm drains that would carry the runoff to the sea. Parking lots and sidewalks turned into minefields of ever-widening puddles.On the freeways, the rain turned driving into a challenge that too many stubborn Southlanders failed, refusing to slow down or increase their following distances despite the conditions. Decr
Serena awoke to the sound of birds chirping and the smell of fresh coffee brewing. She rolled over lazily, reaching out for Raphael, but the space was empty. With eyes still closed, she frowned. Where is that man? That man had probably been out of bed since the crack of dawn, beside himself with nerves for today’s big event, she thought regretfully. They were to be married today. Their lives intertwined for all of eternity. What man wouldn’t have cold feet at the prospect? And they’d known each other such a short time, too. She opened her eyes and blinked a few times, and frowned again. She had awakened in the safe house. Last night, she’d killed a man in her own home, and knew she could never go back there ever again. She didn’t care how good the Brethren’s cleanup crew could restore her home. It would never erase the vivid memories and horrors of what had happened there. She and Raphael would have to find themselves a new home, together. Until such time, this place would be it, th
It’s going to be a long day without Raphael, Serena thought, as she washed and dressed. But she carried on. With so many loose ends to tie up, final checks to be made, people and places to coordinate, she scarcely had time to think about anything else. Except for her father. In the quiet moments between the bedlam of planning a wedding, she reflected upon him and her heart ached. She had arranged for a nursing home staffer to drive him and his wheelchair to the Chapel of the Holy Cross for the wedding. They didn’t usually allow weddings there, but somehow, Raphael swayed their decision. Kemuel promised to wheel her father down the aisle beside her, and she loved him instantly for that. But her dream was to have him walk her down that aisle. A sob caught in her throat, and she quickly shook her head to whisk it away. None of that nonsense, Serena. Don’t be greedy. At least he is alive and here to be a part of it all. As the day waxed on to evening, Serena felt unsettled. She hadn’t s
Raphael spent the next few days cloistered with Serena, away from everyone and everything, like a honeymoon before the wedding. But every morning he made creative excuses to tear himself away from her for a little while and work with Fred. To make sure she didn’t visit her father, he dropped her off at her shop first so she could plan a small wedding with Callie and catch up on the mountains of paperwork.The healing sessions with Serena’s father went spectacularly, and with Raphael’s charisma, he convinced the nursing home staff to keep any improvements secret from her. They thought it romantic that he came to help with his fiancée’s father’s rehabilitation. Everyone there rooted for him, amazed at his miraculous awakening. All of the therapists worked their tails off during his therapy sessions, wanting to see their severely stroke-damaged patient beat the odds and walk his daughter down the aisle.On the morning of the fifth day, Raphael got Fred walking without any assistance.“Co
Raphael grabbed her hands. “Do it!” he demanded. He placed them on his temples and spoke to her through their bonded connection. She felt every thought he had had of Sirona over the years straight to the present down their threaded connection. She heard every thought he’d had of her, including every word he had spoken while holding her in his arms at Dr. Chappo’s estate. He sent her everything that filled his heart and soul about her, and finally, at last, she knew.She knew. And knowing was everything to her. He gently brought her hands away from his face, kissing her fingertips as he eased them down, and she took a few steps backward, looking at him as if for the first time. No one before had ever felt about her the way he felt about her, let alone express so strongly all he’d expressed when she’d lain dying in his arms.“You’re in love with me.” She gasped, astonished. Tears welled again in her eyes, but this time, for a very different reason.“Yes.” He took a bold step toward her.
A bundle of nerves, that’s what she’d turned into. Since leaving her father’s, Serena had been nothing but a bundle of nerves, rehearsing over and over again what she would say to Raphael up on the Rock. Looking all around her now, frightening memories kept popping into her mind, making her think that at any moment, Steve or Wheezer were going to jump out and nab her. Unfortunately, she had gotten to the summit way too early, and now paced like a caged bobcat. It had to stop. The bad guys are dead, Serena. Think positive, and let go the past. So, finding a suitable rock to sit on, Serena decided to do a little meditation to soothe her worried heart. “When I see him, I’ll know the right words to say,” she notified the birds. It may sting for a bit, but it’s for the best.****Raphael showed up at the base of the mountain with time to spare, and noticed Serena’s Jeep already parked. Perfect, he thought. He checked his pocket for the millionth time, making sure the ring box hadn’t fallen
Raphael watched Serena leave the nursing home from behind one of the bushes in the front. She seems in good spirits, he thought. Only when he saw her disappear down the street did he dare to venture out of his hiding place. He walked into the nursing home and headed straight to the reception desk.“Hello, I’m here to see Mr. Sikes.” He smiled amiably at the receptionist.“Wow, two visitors in one day. Fred’s a lucky guy. Sign in right here, please. You’ll sign out before you leave. Take this badge so we know you belong here. Room 103 is down the hall, make a left, and he’s at the end on the left.”He looked at her name tag, and winked. “Thanks so much, Judy.”Walking down the hall, he found himself fidgeting with the badge in his hand. Am I actually nervous? Hell yeah! Raphael, the man, is about to meet the father of the woman he loves. Raphael, the man, is about to ask for this guy’s daugh
Great! Just great! There’s a leak in my bedroom ceiling. Wait a minute, that’s not right. I’m not in my bedroom. I’m locked away in Dr. Chappo’s house. She remembered more. Being bound to a gurney, her body broken and dying. But I’m not lying on a gurney now, and I actually feel great. How could she be dying and still feel great? And what’s with the rain shower on my face? Slowly her eyes fluttered open, and she gasped.It was raining. Angel’s tears. Raphael’s tears, to be exact.She lay in his arms, and from the way he shuddered and sobbed, she thought maybe he didn’t know she lived. To be honest with herself, she’d only realized this fact just a few moments before. Iridescent wings were outstretched and trembling though no breeze made them flutter so.She gently raised her hand to caress his cheek and whispered softly. “Shh…there now, Raphael, shh. It’s all right. I’m ok
Raphael noticed a knob on the box. It made sense to dial it to its lowest setting. He followed the tubing to its clamp on Serena’s side and decided to completely clamp it off. Now, no more blood could flow. But he still needed to get the needle out of her arm. He found gauze and tape on the tray stand and proceeded to extrude the catheter from her arm carefully so as not to injure her. He replaced it securely with the gauze and tape. His hands shook. I can’t fall apart like this right now! He quickly shrugged off the threat of paralyzing fear.“Hey, Raphael, this guy says his name is Steve. Isn’t that the name of one of guys who assaulted Serena?” Gabriel asked.“Yes, yes it is,” he said through gnashed teeth. Rage filled him and he clenched his fists, trying to gain some semblance of control. “Bind him, tightly. Make sure he can see Dr. Chappo. I’d like him to see what happens to assholes like him when they choose
Searing hot pain shot like lightning throughout every inch of Serena’s body. Well, every inch she could feel, which left her very disturbed indeed, because she couldn’t feel anything past her waist. She could barely breathe without severe pain ripping through her chest and back. She knew what that meant—broken ribs. But what about her legs? Where were they? And why did her wrists feel shackled? Oh, dear God! What’s become of me? Her shallow breaths quickened. Her heart raced and fought for freedom behind her aching chest. Tears burst through her closed eyes and flowed untapped down the sides of her face.A voice sliced through the whooshing sound in her ears. A voice she knew all too well, and had come to despise with every molecule in her being.“Uh, Doc, I think she’s coming ’round. What do you want me to do?” Steve asked.“Hmm? Oh, nuffin. Nuffin, Seeve. Jus’ keep watchin’,” Dr. Chappo sl