Chapter 16
Anika
“Are you sure you don’t need medical care?”
The question comes from the man who walked in the back door with Bill Evans, just as I was shooting off a text to Bodhi. I have never seen him before, but he looks like law enforcement.
“I’m sure,” I repeat.
I’ve already had a peek in the bathroom and it’s just a nick. One that happened to bleed quite a bit, so my shirt is a mess, but a dab of Polysporin and a Band-Aid took care of the cut. I did pop a couple of painkillers, because I’m pretty sure before long my body will react.
“Anika, I’d like you to meet FBI Special Agent Cruz Livingston.”
“FBI?” I question Evans. It seems a bit excessive.
“Ms. Jones?” the agent draws my attention. “I’m here because Christopher Cooper is a person of interest in an investigation.”
“Since when does the FBI investigate domestic abuse?” I ask him.
“Agent Livingston is part of a task force investigating a nationwide criminal organization,” Evans clarifies.
“And you think Kim’s husband is involved?”
I’m having a really hard time believing that. Oh, he’s a despicable human being and a bully, but he doesn’t seem anywhere near disciplined enough to be part of something like that.
“If he is, he can’t be much of an asset to whatever organization he’s working for.”
“Oh, he is,” the agent confirms. “But you’re right, he’s not an asset. In fact, right now, his bosses are looking for him because he has something they want, and he is a potential threat to them. So, we’re trying to get to him before they do.”
“You mention he has something they want? That’s funny, because that was basically what he said about Kim. That she had something of his he needed back.”
I catch a look between the two men. I’m not in the loop, but it’s clear to me what I said means something to them. But there’s more they should know, and I turn to Bill Evans.
“Listen, I don’t think he had anything to do with Kim’s disappearance.” I watch him pull up an eyebrow. “He attacked me because he thought I knew where she was. Why would he do that if he had anything to do with it? And another thing,” I add. “He freaked out when I told him her car had been found. That’s when the neighbor called out and he took off running.”
We’re interrupted by a loud disagreement just outside the open back door. I recognize Hog’s voice. Evans does too and hurries to intervene.
A few moments later he walks in, leading Hog, whose eyes are fixed on me as he stalks over, completely ignoring the FBI agent.
“Goddammit, Anika,” he growls fiercely but his hands are gentle as he tips up my chin and examines my neck.
“I’m fine,” I assure him, curling my hands around his wrists and pulling them away from my face.
Then I lean into him and his arms instantly close around me. With my cheek pressed against his chest, I take a moment to soak up his strength.
“Ms. Jones, if you don’t mind…”
I feel Hog tense up as I lift my head.
“Who are you?” he rumbles.
Before the agent has an opportunity to respond, someone starts rattling the front door. When I turn around, I see Landon, with hands and face pressed up to the glass, peering in.
“Oh shit,” I mumble as I rush to open the door.
Normally, I would have the front door open, but I lost track of time.
“What is going on?” Landon says the moment he walks in. “Is that blood on you?”
I really should find something else to wear. It won’t be long before Monique and Molly make an appearance and our first customers start showing up.
“It’s nothing,” I tell Landon, who immediately narrows his eyes.
“Nothing doesn’t bleed.”
“Anika?” Evans walks up behind me. “Why don’t you talk to Livingston and I’ll take care of things here,” he suggests.
“Did something happen?” I hear Landon ask the detective as I make my way to the back.
There I find the agent explaining his presence to Hog in a soft voice. Hog immediately claims me by pulling me to his side when I join them.
“Maybe we should go into my office,” I suggest, anticipating more interruptions.
It’s a tight fit, with not one, but two large men crowding into the small space with me, but I don’t think Hog will be content to wait outside.
“You mentioned Cooper claimed his wife had something of his?” Livingston wants to know.
“That’s what he said,” I confirm.
“We found a large number of casino chips hidden in the spare wheel well of her car.”
“Kim’s car?”
He nods. “I’m pretty sure it’s what her husband was referring to.”
“But I don’t understand, casino chips? Kim said they were struggling financially. She was working her butt off to make ends meet while that bastard was at home drinking away what she brought in.”
“He was probably drinking,” Livingston concedes. “But not necessarily at home. Do you know what a chip walker is?”
I glance over at Hog, who nods. I don’t have a clue.
“No idea.”
“A chip walker is someone who comes into a casino with a wad of money, buys casino chips, and walks from table to table, maybe placing a few minor bets here and there, before cashing out and walking away with clean money.”
“Money laundering,” Hog contributes.
“Exactly. The organization we’re investigating specializes in money laundering. They’re hired by anyone who gained money through illegal means, could be anything from an individual involved in insider trading or a large drug cartel. The people we’re looking into receive money from the client, it gets divided through their network, using different methods to launder the funds before it is returned to the client, minus a hefty fee.
“Chip walking is one such method, and we have reason to believe that’s what Christopher Cooper is engaged in.”
“I’m still not sure I understand. What would this have to do with Kim disappearing?” I want to know.
“He was skimming,” Hog concludes.
“Skimming?” I parrot.
The agent is quick to clarify.
“He’d pocket a few of the chips before cashing them in and handing over the money. A few chips here and there wouldn’t be so noticeable since he was expected to place a couple of bets to make the transactions look legit. The chips we found were from the Ute Casino in Ignacio and a smaller one near Cortez. We found the equivalent of twenty-one-thousand dollars in the trunk of Kim’s car.”
“I don’t believe for a minute she had anything to do with that,” I vouch for my employee.
“Maybe not, but it could make her a target,” Livingston suggests.
“A target for who?”
“His employer,” Hog jumps in. “Twenty-one thousand isn’t chump change and they may have clued in to the fact he was skimming.”
“But that still wouldn’t explain why they’d be interested in Kim.”
“Unless Cooper told them she had the money.”
My head is hurting as I’m trying to make sense of it all. I automatically grab for the bottle of ibuprofen in my desk drawer, only to remember I popped the last two not quite an hour ago and the bottle is in the trash.
“Except it was obviously still in her car when that was found,” Hog points out. “That doesn’t make sense.”
The agent seems to agree, nodding as he pushes away from the wall he’s been leaning against.
“Lots of missing pieces we’re still trying to fill in. I’d appreciate if you could keep this part of the investigation to yourselves. It’s for your own safety as well.”
Wonderful. It’s one thing to look over my shoulder for an angry drunk, but quite another to have to worry about a gang of criminals.
Hog
Well, that decides that, from here on in I’m sticking to her like fucking Velcro.
That bastard had a knife to her throat. He cut her.
It’s controlled chaos here. A crime scene unit is roaming around out back and up in the apartment, while staff is being questioned one by one in the office. In the meantime, Anika is at the front desk, trying to get a hold of this afternoon’s customers, while I fend off anyone showing up at the front door with the excuse we’re looking into a possible gas leak.
“Done.” Anika sets the phone down and drops her head in her hands. “I’m starting to lose customers,” she laments. “A few we’ve had to cancel with twice already. I can’t blame them not wanting to reschedule again.”
“You’ll win them back once all this settles down,” I encourage her.
“Whenever that is. Who knows? I may have no one left by then.”
This kind of defeatist talk is not like Anika. I guess those knocks she appears to bounce back from are taking their toll after all.
“What do you need?”
She lifts her head a bit and looks at me, confused.
“What do you mean?”
“Right this moment, what do you need to make you feel better?”
“Some painkillers and a good long nap.”
I walk up to her, brush her hair to the side, and press a kiss to that tender spot behind her ear.
“Gimme a minute,” I tell her, before walking to the back where I find Bill Evans.
Ten minutes later, I have her loaded up in my new Suburban, and am on my way to Walgreens.
“Anything other than ibuprofen?” I ask her when I pull into the parking lot.
“I can’t think of anything.”
She’s so done, she’s starting to slur a bit.
“Okay. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
I quickly duck into the store, grab what I need, and rush back out, only to find her already fast asleep in my passenger seat. She has a habit of doing that, falling asleep. I’m guessing that’s her body’s way of self-preserving, by shutting down when she’s on overload.
When we get to her place, I end up carrying her inside. She barely even notices, only blinking her eyes a few times before rolling on her side and going right back to sleep when I lay her on the couch. I briefly wonder whether I should wake her up to take some of her pills first, but I guess if she is sleeping that hard, she obviously needs it more.
I head back out to fetch her purse and the Walgreens bag, when I hear her phone ringing inside the truck. I find it in her purse, her brother’s name on the screen, so I answer.
“Bodhi.”
“Jesus, you’re answering her phone now?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and inhale deeply before I respond.
“Right now your sister is sleeping on the couch. She’s had a bit of a day at work.”
“She sent me a message. We were called out to a brush fire up along Florida Road near the cemetery so I just got it. She said something about a break-in?”
Trust Anika to omit the part where she was held at knifepoint. Although that might not be something you want to share in a text message.
“It was a little more involved than that,” I volunteer, and proceed to fill him in on what happened.
I’m tempted to tell him about the FBI’s involvement, but decide to leave it up to Anika if she wants to share that part. I stick to the basics, but those are enough to cause an immediate shift in Bodhi’s attitude.
“Tell me you are not letting her out of your sight,” he snaps.
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
“And tell her I’ll be by after my shift to check on her.”
I’m sure that’ll go over well, but it seems he’s suddenly over my presence in his sister’s life. I could give him a hard time about it—he’s been a burr up my ass and deserves it—but I opt against it. Mostly for his sister’s sake.
“You bet,” I tell him instead.
“What are you doing?”
I turn around to find her leaning up against the railing of her deck, grinning down at me. I’m glad to see she’s changed out of the shirt with the bloodstains. It looks like she’s had a shower, her hair is wet.
How long have I been out here?
“Are you gardening?”
I look at the piles of weeds I pulled from the neglected, raised vegetable beds along the back fence.
“Gardening is for girls.”
She laughs, coming down the stairs toward me.
“Ahh, okay. So, what is it called when a guy does it?”
I take in her smiling face, noting she looks a lot better than she did earlier. The nap must’ve done her good.
“Small-scale farming?” I suggest to her hilarity.
It’s that my hands are dirty, otherwise I’d have grabbed her face to kiss her.
These are the kinds of moments I’d like a lifetime full of.
“I figure the beds are here, you may as well use them. There’s plenty of planting season left. You could have your own supply of vegetables.”
She does what I wanted to do to her two seconds ago, and lays a kiss on me.
“That’s sweet. Thank you.”
“How did you sleep?” I quickly change the subject.
“Good, although I can’t remember coming home at all, and I have no idea how I ended up on the couch.”
“You were out. I ended up talking to your brother.”
I share my conversation with him and warn her he plans on stopping in tomorrow.
“Did you tell him I’m fine?”
“I did, but he’s going to want to see for himself. Let him.”
“Fine. Not like I can stop him anyway.” She runs her fingers through the dirt I just churned up. “What should I plant?”
We discuss options and eventually make our way back inside.
“Beer?” she asks, opening the fridge while I wash my hands.
“Yeah, sure.”
She hands me one and grabs a water bottle for herself.
“By the way, thanks for making sure things would be taken care of at the salon. Monique messaged me to let me know the cops left and she was just closing up.”
“Good. Evans was gonna make sure they could lock the apartment too.”
I’m not sure whether I’m going to lose any brownie points I just won, but it has to be said.
“Hey, Sweetheart? Have you thought about calling your parents? I can easily imagine the news cop cars were all over their daughter’s salon is gonna reach them sooner or later.”
She stares at me for a moment before dropping her chin to her chest, cursing softly. Then she grabs her phone off the counter and calls her mother, and I pull the ingredients for dinner out of the fridge.
I’m on the deck firing up the grill when she comes outside and walks right up to me, looping her arms around my neck.
“You’re like my own personal Superman. Rescuing me again.”
She kisses me hard and I grin against her lips.
I’ve been called worse.