5. Erin
CHAPTER 5
ERIN
I n the Promised Land, women learned the important things and nothing more—namely how to cook, clean, and please the men in their lives. Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husband, as unto the Lord. Ephesians 5:22. At least I’d only had to do a fifth of the work. Weird how so many people thought polygyny always benefited the man. Sleeping alone four nights out of five had definitely been a plus for me. One of my friends was married to another of the Prophet’s brothers—he had seven of them—and even though her dearly beloved was a total pig, I still felt a little jealous because he had eleven wives and spent most of his time working.
We did learn to read, though. How else could we study the Bible and the Prophet’s addendums? He swore he was a conduit of God and therefore qualified to write the extra bits. Believe it or not, that had all seemed perfectly normal as I was growing up.
Kai was the one who’d asked questions. He used to work on one of the construction crews that made People’s Promise a small—and untaxable—fortune. He saw slivers of the world as I was stuck in isolation. One day, he’d brought me a phone. Not one that I could actually phone people with because it wasn’t hooked up to a network, but I could plug in the headphones and listen to music. Some of the lyrics had been real eye-opening.
Anyhow, I’d learned to read, and I’d learned faster than any of the other girls my age. I memorised chunks of the Bible so I didn’t have to keep reading it. Back then, nobody told me that reading something once and remembering it wasn’t normal; they just told me off for staring out the window in class.
It was only when I moved to Florida that I found out the truth. One of my roommates was a biology student, and he let me borrow his textbooks as long as I took care of them—boy, were the chapters on reproduction a shock—and apparently, it was “weird” and “creepy” to recite paragraphs three days after I’d read them.
The words didn’t stay in my head forever, not unless it was the Bible because I’d read that book a million times, but they lingered for months and then gradually faded away. Faces, I wasn’t so good at, but words stuck. And maps.
Which was why, as Ari drove us through McNeil in her silver SUV—well, it was actually a company SUV with great AC and plenty of cupholders, courtesy of Digby Rennick—I counted the houses. And when Rusty said, “It’s that place with the white wall,” I knew we were pretty much dead behind Cole’s recently inherited home. Ari glanced across at me, and I nodded. I’d confided in her about the memory thing, and she said I was special, which was nicer than being weird.
I couldn’t see the house hidden away behind the high walls, but I recalled from the satellite photos that it was a sprawling building with a large terrace and a swimming pool out back.
“Nice digs,” Ari said, and I wondered how she was going to approach this. Because I knew exactly what was running through her mind. “Airbnb?”
“No, it belongs to a friend. He’s on vacation.”
“Wish I had those kinds of friends.”
“If you want to run surveillance on Kelsey, I’ll gladly put in a word.”
He was joking, but Ari played along while I watched Rusty in the rear-view.
“Okay, we can do that.”
“Huh?”
“How many bedrooms does that place have? Five? Six?”
“Five.”
“If we can borrow one of them, then we’ll help you out.”
Ari was just going for it. Wow. Although Rusty struck me as a straight-talking kind of guy, so maybe that was the right approach to take?
“I was joking.”
Or maybe it wasn’t?
“I know you’re joking, but I’m not. Think about it—we have experience with surveillance, and please don’t take offence at this, but you stick out like a sore thumb. Nobody wears sunglasses indoors.”
“She might recognise me otherwise.”
“The two of you know each other?”
“We met at a party a while back.”
“Even if she doesn’t recognise your face, she’ll start to wonder why a big guy with sunglasses and a ball cap keeps following her. Objectively speaking, women are better at surveillance.”
“Your friend got into a fight, and I had to drive her to the emergency room.”
Oh, he just had to bring that up. “They tried to kick me out of my freaking seat. What was I meant to do? Let them get away with it? ”
Rusty cracked a smile. “Nah, it was kinda hot the way you laid into them.”
Hot?
No, no. It hadn’t been hot. The AC was one place the Galaxy didn’t skimp.
“That was a one-off,” Ari said. “Usually, we fly under the radar, and women don’t come across as threatening to other women.”
Rusty looked at her curiously. Under the sunglasses, he had eyes the colour of chocolate frosting. “Do private investigators even take cases like this one? I figured they’d call me crazy if I went to them with the story.”
“A woman once hired me to prove her neighbour was an alien.”
“And were they?”
“Of course not, but I made sure she paid up front.”
“Why would she even think he was an alien?”
“He made weird screeching noises at night. But it turned out he just had insomnia and a violin.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Rusty said slowly. “But I can’t invite you into somebody else’s home while he’s away on a trip. How about I hire you the regular way? Or I could get you a room at a hotel? Not the Galaxy, somewhere good.”
“That won’t work for us. It just so happens that your crash pad is near one of our surveillance targets. If we had a base nearby, it would free up some time for other things.”
Rusty was already shaking his head. “No, no, no. You can’t use this place to spy on Mav’s neighbours. That would be awkward all around.”
“We’re not spying on anybody. There was a recent break-in, and we were hired to investigate the matter.”
“You mean a neighbour hired you?”
“Yes. ”
“Then why can’t you sit in their house and do your surveillance?”
An excellent question. Rusty might look and sound like a Midwest farm boy, but he wasn’t stupid. Not that I thought all Midwest farm boys were dumber than three yards of dirt road, but when I was ten, a guy named Mikey had moved to the Promised Land from a farm in North Dakota. One time, I’d watched Mikey’s hat blow away, and he’d walked right into the path of a tractor to retrieve it. And then there was the day he tried to milk a bull…
“It’s complicated,” Ari said. “Not everybody in the home is aware of the situation.”
“Like kids?” Rusty rubbed his chin. “I guess I can see why a parent wouldn’t want to unsettle a child.”
Totally the wrong assumption, but Ari didn’t correct him. No, she just stayed quiet.
“Mav said his alarm activated one night a few weeks ago,” Rusty continued. “Not the house, but the perimeter sensor. You think it could’ve been the same people creeping around? Casing the joint?”
“It’s possible.”
That part, at least, was true. Jerry said two of the men came in from the back, and the cleanup crew had found broken plants at the rear of the yard as if someone had climbed over the fence. And honestly, extra security was a good idea. Last time, four armed men had failed at the task, so they’d probably send six next time.
“You’d only want to use one bedroom?”
“Possibly a bathroom too.”
“I’ll speak with the owner. Do you have a website? References?”
Ari fished a business card out of her pocket. “That has my website details. You can use the CEO of AnyBet as my reference—his name is Digby Rennick.”
“You got his number? ”
“I could give you a number, but how will you be sure it’s his? Better to get the number from AnyBet’s corporate website, and I’ll let him know to expect a call. What’s your friend’s name?”
“Mav Johansen. Maverick.”
“I’ll speak with you in the morning.”
“There’s no guarantee he’ll agree to this.”
“Let’s think positive, okay?”
“Sorry about the hospital thing,” I said as we drove toward the Galaxy. “If I’d known those girls were crazy, maybe I’d have given them the table.”
Ari chuckled softly. “No, you wouldn’t.”
Okay, I wouldn’t. I’d spent half my life letting people walk all over me, and now that my brother, and Ari, and Zach, and Maya had helped me to grow a backbone, I wasn’t going to bend for three vacuous bimbos. They could go buzz themselves.
“I won’t get into any fights tomorrow, I swear.” I checked my watch. “Today.”
“You’d better not. I need you to help Rusty with his surveillance.”
My stomach clenched. “What? I mean, what about the Library? Who’s gonna watch the staff door?”
“I have an idea for that, and it’s a long shot anyway—if I were Jimmy, I wouldn’t risk a third visit. Too many people and cameras around. The house is the more likely target. Jerry was talking about putting backup in a cargo van, but it’s the sort of neighbourhood where folks will call the cops if a strange vehicle parks at the side of the street for hours.”
“We don’t even know if Rusty’s friend will say yes.”
“Well, Rusty desperately needs help, so I think he’ll be convincing. Nobody can run twenty-four-seven surveillance alone. I bet you he’s lost the target a bunch of times already.”
“And there’s the sunglasses thing.”
“Exactly. Plus he’s objectively handsome—obviously not as hot as Zach, though—and ten bucks says he’s a pro hockey player. Did you notice his build? His pale complexion? See the way he kept glancing around in the hospital? Every time he goes out, he’s legit panicking in case someone recognises him and makes a fuss.”
“A hockey player? Like, ice hockey?”
Of course, I’d noticed Rusty was built, but that just upped the intimidation factor. Were hockey players big? Sports wasn’t a thing in the Promised Land, either. I used to sneak off to swim in a water hole, and then I’d learned to surf because of my brother, but the whole football-hockey-baseball thing remained a mystery to me.
“Yeah, ice hockey. He said the target’s boyfriend plays for the Richmond Raiders.” Ari nodded at her phone in my lap. “Google Maverick Johansen.”
“You really think— Oh, holy heck.”
“Hockey player?”
“Yup, and he has muscles on his muscles on his… Well, there are pictures of him in his underwear.” And he definitely stuffed something in his boxer briefs. I mean, I might have been a bit backward in my education, but I learned about the birds and the bees as soon as I got married. I knew where that part had to fit. And it wouldn’t. Not a chance. I held the phone up to Ari as she drew to a halt at a stoplight. “See?”
“I think most of them look like that.”
“No way. Do you ever watch hockey?”
“My ex had box seats for the Storm.” She wrinkled her nose, and I understood why. Her daughter’s biological father was a giant pimple on the ass of humanity. “That’s Vegas’s team—the Nevada Storm plays in a stadium just off the Strip. Try looking up Rusty.”
Ari pulled away as I typed in “Rusty hockey player” and got a hundred results. The top twenty were all the same face. No shirtless pictures, but there was one of him in jeans, and it was definitely the same guy who’d helped me in the Library.
“His name is Rusty Bolt.”
She digested that for a moment. “Rusty Bolt ? Are you kidding me?”
“That’s his name. He plays for the California Commanders, but he’s from Minnesota.”
“No wonder he’s like a fish out of water in Vegas. I’ll get Alexa to run a background check.” Ari must have noticed the death grip I had on the hem of my shorts because she reached over and squeezed my hand. “If she finds anything concerning, you won’t be working with him. We’ll find another way.”
How did lumps just end up in your throat like that? I tried to swallow it down, but it stuck halfway.
“I’ll be okay,” I croaked.
“I don’t doubt that for a second, but if Rusty has a dark side, I want to shine a light on it. And I’m not sending you into the shadows.”
Even though Ari was my favourite colleague ever, private investigating wasn’t the funnest job I’d ever had. Surveillance could be kinda boring, and watching married dudes get up to gross stuff with women who weren’t their wife—or sometimes men—made sick come into my mouth. Zach said Ari didn’t have to work, but she wanted to pay her own way, so she contracted part-time for Digby Rennick and took the occasional short-term case in California to help her nana pay rent on the apartment she lived in. And I thought that perhaps she was helping me too. Soon after I turned down my brother’s offer of a job, I overheard him, Ari, and Zach talking. Kai was worried I’d take another gnarly job and end up in trouble. That was when Ari said that maybe if she hung out a shingle in California, she could use me as an assistant.
So now here I was. Screwing up basic tasks and cavorting with a hockey player.
“What’s your plan for the Galaxy?” I asked. “We can’t leave the executive suite uncovered, can we?”
“Ask me again in a few hours.”
“What if it doesn’t work out?”
“Trust me.”
I did. I did trust her. I just hoped I didn’t let her down.