Chapter Two
Gage
What? You think just because she dumped me that I’m out of the picture? I fucking get to end this my way, and don’t you forget it.
I nurse a beer at home, staring at my black TV screen. Yes, I’m alone, and no, Sierra isn’t here. I didn’t think going out with her would cause such a fucking disaster. Zarah and I hadn’t been together long enough that I got the whole paparazzi treatment. We didn’t do much. Socially, I mean. I preferred the evenings in, having dinner parties with Zane and Stella and walking the dogs afterward or our nights here, the TV on, but not really watching anything, just talking and getting to know each other.
Then Sierra and I go out, and all hell breaks loose. I wanted to poke at her. I knew Zarah heard me invite her to the movies, but I didn’t think I’d have to do damage control. Stella stopping by the office, and even Zane called and asked me what the fuck I was doing.
Not that it’s any of their goddamned business. She broke up with me. Excuse me for trying to live my life. It’s not my fault Truth or Dare blasted it online, but Sierra got a kick out of it. She’s never had her fifteen minutes of fame.
I’m lonely without Zarah and I’m constantly thinking about her. What she’s doing. What she’s going to wear to Zane and Stella’s ceremony. When she’s going to LA. What she’ll do there, when she’ll come back.
Do I think we’re done? I mean, done done .
I have no idea. I hate she let Jerricka fill her head with all that shit, but I’m not going to fight against it. I was angry when she texted me this morning. Not because she texted me, but because of what she said. Her default “I didn’t want to hold you back” doesn’t work for me. I’m old enough to make my own choices, and if I want to let her hold me back, then that’s my decision. More like she didn’t want me holding her back.
Let’s just tell it like it is.
She can miss me and still want what the world has to offer. The problem is, she doesn’t realize she didn’t have to choose. I would have been more than happy to explore the world with her, but I can’t tell her that. It will mean more if she comes to that conclusion on her own...after she dates a few guys.
So I’ll wait, pissed off I can’t pry thoughts of her going to plays and fancy restaurants, assholes like Tate wrapping their arms around her, out of my head.
I’ll use the extra time and figure out Max’s shit.
Okay, fine, I shouldn’t have been so hard on her. I know, we’re back to that. But how do you think I feel? Breaking up with me to date other men. I’m not a fucking saint. Any guy I know would tell the woman who said that to shove it up her ass where the sun don’t shine.
Zarah’s given me plenty of hints this is something she feels she should do, and if she wants to date around, ask Zane to keep hooking her up, then fine. She’ll realize soon enough no one is going to love her like I did. Do.
I just had to say that. Now, where was I again? Oh, yeah, I’m going to finally sort through Max’s things.
Starting with the journal on the coffee table.
I pick it up and ruffle through it. The only thing I see when I look at the pages are Zarah’s dark eyes, the passion when she comes, the wonder someone has shown her what making love should be like.
And she wants to experience that with another man.
I sigh.
She should, I guess. Her world has been so closed in, but even if I can understand it, that doesn’t mean it’s not going to hurt like fuck. I’ll hurt just as much as I’m sure she did seeing Sierra’s and my picture on Truth or Dare . I’m not going to like it, but I’ll tolerate it. Because no matter what I say to the contrary, I still love her.
A picture falls out from between the pages of the journal, a picture I’ve never seen before. It’s of Max and Zarah, and they’re sitting on a loveseat, the flicker of a fake fire reflecting in Max’s glasses. She’s looking at him, a tentative smile on her lips, and he’s talking, their fingers laced together. I can see in her eyes she’s struggling to keep up. She’s not understanding much, if anything, of what he’s saying, but she’s leaning into him. She trusts him.
I read the page.
Stella and I came back from DC today. Zane barely gave her time to eat before sweeping her up and carrying her to his room. I told Mel what we found out and he listened with only half an ear. Can I have a love like that? When I don’t care if someone finds evidence of my parents’ guilt or innocence? When the only thing that matters is the love of a woman? He didn’t say one word about the things we found in Lark’s favor, just carried Stella away, more relieved she landed safely than anything else.
Zarah was more open with me than she has been, throwing herself into my arms, and I held her for a long time. I haven’t been this serious about a woman before, and it took me aback how much I missed the feel of her skin and the scent of her hair. After Zane and Stella went to his room, we sat in mine and Mel read through the transcript of the recording. It was what we suspected but didn’t know for sure: Lark knew Clayton was selling weapons and was hoping to use Kagan and Clayton’s friendship to convince him to stop. That’s a lot of faith in a friendship. Doesn’t seem so unrealistic that Zane would believe Ash over almost anyone, including Stella. I could be cruel and say they both got what they deserved, but that would be speaking ill of a dead woman, and Zane’s going to be paying for what he’s done for a long time.
That will be between Zane and Stella and won’t have anything to do with me. I have to focus on this story for the Chronicle. What I want to know, and I guess what nobody cares about, is who is Clayton Black selling weapons to? Where is he getting them, and where are they going?
I know he’s in it for the money, but what if there’s more?
Weapons are used in wars. What kind of war is Clayton planning?
Closing the journal, I rest it against my chest and think about that. That entry is fifteen months old. Did Clayton Black’s arrest thwart anything that was going to happen? I admit, I’m not one to keep up with international affairs, but I know on average there are about ten conflicts going on in the world at any given time in countries I’ve never heard of outside a geography class.
Grade-A military weapons could go for a bit on the black market, but Clayton would have needed connections to the military or a private supplier to even get his hands on them.
I study the picture again. They looked good together. They would have made a nice couple if Max had lived.
Is that why I cut and run so quickly? I took Zarah’s out because deep down I don’t feel good enough for her? My little apartment is good enough for me, but maybe I never felt it was good enough for her. Zarah dumped me and I jumped in with Sierra quick enough. I’ve always been natural around her, comfortable. Never cared if I let a fart slip out or a burp rip after drinking a beer. She’s my friend, and we’re on the same level, the same wavelength. Same pay scale.
Zarah and me...I know the minute she starts dating other men she’ll find someone more suited to the way she should live. Classy. Polished. His arms not covered in tats.
Max would have fit in with that world. Our mother and Zarah would have gotten along, and I can picture them hosting parties together, going shopping. I can see her helping Zarah choose a wedding dress. She would have done more for Zarah if she’d been Max’s fiancée than she would ever do if she was mine.
Or maybe, after her reaction to Rourke, Zarah wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with either of us. I can’t get over her fear of him at Max’s award dinner. The man is a sleazy creep, and I don’t know what he did to her. If she can’t remember, we may never find out.
I wonder how far Zane got buying Quiet Meadows. There’s no way Rourke wouldn’t accept an offer. Any offer. The empty building isn’t earning him a cent, and Rourke isn’t one to waste time on anything. It’s one of the reasons he’s been a successful senator and why the people of Minnesota vote for him over and over again despite us being a blue state and Rourke being a Republican.
Baby’s lying on the couch, and she looks at me mournfully, her head resting on my thigh. She misses Zarah, and I can’t blame her. I miss her too, and I’m worried about her. Someone killed Ingrid. I don’t know why and I don’t know how, but someone went through a lot of trouble to hide they took her, going so far as to purchase a bus ticket in her name and sitting in the seat to have the barcode scanned. It threw us off the trail.
I wonder what the cops found during the investigation.
What did they think she knew? And who is “they?”
When Zane called to bitch me out about the photo, I should have asked him then. All I did was hurry him off the phone as quickly as possible. I wasn’t going to listen to any shit from a guy who boned a hooker for five years.
I flip to the next page in Max’s journal. One more entry, then I’ll go to bed and start the bullshit all over again. I was supposed to go to Zane and Stella’s ceremony tomorrow, but I wouldn’t go now, even if Stella texts and invites me. I don’t belong there.
On the plane, Stella warned me off Zarah, and not for the reasons I would have thought. Zane’s protective of his sister—obviously—and I don’t blame him, but Stella’s and my conversation was different. Zarah used to be a party girl, didn’t have a plan for the future. Wasn’t enrolled in university, took a couple of gap years to fuck around. It didn’t take me long to realize where Stella was going with what she was saying. Before she had her breakdown and Zane and Ash Black locked her up, Zarah was flighty, materialistic.
Zarah would seem like that to Stella who had to work hard for every little thing she’s ever had.
Stella was telling me so I understood if Zarah and I have a relationship, that even without the drugs pushing her down, she’s still just a child playing with toys.
I don’t read the rest of the entry. It isn’t difficult to understand why Stella would resent Zarah her freedom to do what she wanted. I didn’t have that much freedom either, though having the option to work with Pop gave me some flexibility when I realized I didn’t want to be a cop anymore.
Just another reason Zarah decided to spread her wings without me. She hasn’t had any time to figure out what she wants to do, and tied down to one man, she felt limited. Zane went away to school. Maybe that’s something Zarah’s considering and didn’t know how to tell me. There were kids in my high school who broke up because they were accepted into different colleges and moved away. They chose their futures over their relationships. The few who tried to stay together long distance failed. You meet new people at school, have experiences the other person can’t enjoy with you. You’re bound to grow apart.
Rehashing the whole situation raises my hackles all over again. I’m not good for her. I get it.
I’ll just move on and she can do her thing. In a year or so if she reaches out, I’ll see where I’m at. I have no interest in jumping into the dating pool. Pop and I will work jobs, and I’ll stay out of the paparazzi’s sights and lick my wounds the best I can.
I want her to find her way. I want her to be happy.
I wanted her to be happy with me.
Sucks I can’t have it both ways.
At an ungodly hour, Baby noses me awake. It’s not her “I have to pee” whine, either. Someone’s banging on the door.
I fell asleep on the couch last night, and I roll to my feet, Max’s journal falling onto the floor. I leave it there and rub my eyes. “Hold on, hold on.”
Zane’s standing on the other side of the door when I pull it open, and I shuffle backward to let him in. I haven’t had any coffee, and I can’t deal with him until I have some caffeine pumping through my veins. “She dumped me. Didn’t you get the memo?”
I swish water around in the carafe and leave it under the tap as I throw out old grounds and dump new ones into a clean filter.
“I’m not here about that.”
“Hmmph.”
He looks disgustingly fresh in jeans and a sweater, and he hasn’t shaved. His hair is longer than I normally see it, and his shoes drip water onto my kitchen floor.
The coffeemaker trickles its sweet nectar into the carafe, and I lean silently against the counter, my brain muzzy. Without an invitation, he sits at the table, resting an arm on the sparkling surface. I should get rid of the table, too, and irritated, I bat the idea away. It’s too fucking early. Thank Christ it isn’t long before there’s enough in the carafe to fill two mugs, and he doesn’t speak until I give him one. I gulp. I don’t care if it’s bitter or not hot enough.
“Did you hear about Ingrid?”
“Hmm.” My brain is still only half functioning. Pity the poor soul who has an emergency in the middle of the night and is counting on me for help.
“That doesn’t say much to me.”
“Yeah. I saw it on the news. Better?”
“More coherent. Have any guesses what happened to her?”
I shrug. “Not really. I dug around and found out she bought a bus ticket to Chicago. I was going to email you and Stella, but other things got in my way.”
“She wasn’t in Chicago.”
I swear under my breath. “No kidding.”
“What do you think they wanted?”
I slant him a glance. My tats are stark against my skin, my muscles straining my t-shirt’s sleeves. We’re two different people, and the differences aren’t lost on me. “Fuck if I know. You talk to the cops?”
“They questioned me.”
That’s all he says, and annoyed, I circle my hand in the air to keep him going. “And?”
Zane sips his coffee. “The usual. When did we see her last, why did we let her go, that kind of thing.”
“Does Zarah know?”
He shakes his head. “No, and I don’t want her to find out. We’re lucky Truth or Dare cares more about you and her at the moment and hasn’t caught wind of it.”
I grimace. “Could be the cops are leaning on them to keep a lid on it for now.” I pause. “Stella knows.”
“Yeah. She was going to talk to you, but I said I’d do it. The girls are doing a spa day to get ready for tonight.”
Despite the crap we’re talking about, his happiness breaks through the gloom. Well, fuck. If I was marrying the love of my life, I’d be happy too.
“Congratulations.” I hope he can hear the sincerity in my voice. I really do wish him and Stella the best.
He tries not to smile, but it doesn’t work. “Thanks. I fucked up so many times. How she still loves me is a mystery, but one I don’t want to solve. I’ll take it and shut the fuck up.”
“Good idea.”
“Will you go out there?”
I think he means to the house and I open my mouth to object, but he says, “The warehouse? Where they found her. See if you can find anything.”
“The KCPD’s CSU team will have been all over that place. I’m not going to find anything they didn’t.”
“Maybe not. Probably not, but you know more about this than a detective assigned to the case who has a million other things on his plate. Look around, maybe you can find something that will give us a hint.”
It sounds like a waste of time, but I haven’t itemized my hours and paid Stella back the difference yet. Technically, I’m still on retainer and have no reason to say no. “Do you have any idea who would want to do something like that?”
Zane scrapes his fingers through the scruff along his jaw. “We’ve been the target of a few things off and on. Nothing too big, and a lot of shit stopped when the Blacks were put away.”
I refill my coffee mug.
Baby starts to pace. She’s going to need to go outside soon.
“In other words, no.”
“The people I would have blamed are in prison.”
“Every single one?”
He sighs. “If that was true, half of King’s Crossing would be serving time.”
“That’s what I thought.” I lift a shoulder. “Maybe this doesn’t concern you. Who knows what her personal life was like. Maybe she wanted to sell information because she needed the money or she resented you cutting her out and the deal went bad.”
“Not according to the autopsy report. She was tortured and bled out.”
So much for hoping it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. “Did they say how?”
“No, and I didn’t ask, either. I can’t talk about shit like that without thinking about what Ash did to Stella and Zarah.”
I shudder. After what I saw in Quiet Meadows’ basement, I get it. “I can go out there, poke around, but I don’t see what good it’s going to do.”
“If I have someone in my corner looking into things rather than those bumbling idiots on the KCPD, I’ll feel better.”
“There are a couple of good guys on the force—”
Zane scoffs.
“Not many, but a few. I’ll see what the inside word is, but she didn’t know anything. She was just a nurse watching Zarah swallow medication. What’s her death worth to anybody?”
“I don’t know.” He sips his coffee. Our conversation feels done, but he doesn’t stand up to leave. “Are you dating that redhead now?”
“Jesus Christ, knock it off. You sound like Zarah and Stella. Your sister said she didn’t want to see me anymore. I don’t think anyone understands when that happens, both people are single again. I can do whatever the fuck I want.”
“I realize that, but I didn’t think you’d go out your first night a free man and get laid.”
“You’ve been living with the women too long and they’ve turned you into a gossip.”
He laughs and holds his cup out for more coffee. Christ. I’m never going to get rid of him.
“Talk to your wife—”
Zane lifts his eyebrows.
“She’s close enough. I told you I didn’t, and if you would’ve asked her, she would have said the same thing. She’s already chewed me out, so don’t waste your breath.” I fill his coffee cup and set mine on the counter.
Baby whines. She’s going to have to wait a couple more minutes.
“I hate what Zarah told me, and I disagreed with it, too, until last night.” I stomp into the living room, bring back the photo of Max and Zarah sitting on the loveseat, and slap it onto the table. “This is why I think it’s a good idea now. Zarah’s been sheltered, and since you pulled her out of Quiet Meadows, she’s only dated, and I use that term loosely, two men—my brother and me. She needs more than that before settling down. I didn’t understand what you meant when you said you didn’t want her falling in love with me. I took it personally, but that’s not where you were headed. I realize that now.”
He picks up the picture and studies it, his shoulders slumping. He and Max were good friends. They had a closer relationship than Max and I ever had, and probably ever would have had had he lived.
“Yes, I love her, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to still feel the same way about me when she’s finally done finding herself, or whatever the fuck she needs to do. It’s not fair you ask me to wait around. I’m older than you by some change, and it’s my right to do what I want. That means meeting a woman, and if she’s a good fit, starting a family.”
The idea sends a shiver down my spine. Starting a family with someone other than Zarah. She could already be carrying my baby, and the day she told me she didn’t want to see me anymore was the day she took away my choices. She’ll do what she wants if I made her pregnant, and I doubt she’ll tell me anything.
“Okay.”
It aggravates me that’s all he has to say to my venting, but I guess there’s nothing more he can say. Everything I said, he agrees with.
“Now, it would be great if you left me alone. I’ll check into Ingrid’s death and I’ll email you if I find anything, but I don’t think it’s too much to ask if you and Stella mind your own business.”
Zane stands and carefully sets his mug on the table. “I’m sorry I came by. You know, maybe I wasn’t right. I’ve never seen Zarah happier than when she was with you.”
I rub my hands tiredly over my face and ignore the pinpricks of tears behind my eyelids. Maybe I can go back to bed after Zane leaves. “I thought I made her happy too, but I wasn’t enough and it’s not hard to see why. The redhead is more my speed, and it’s no good pretending she’s not. There’s a reason rich girls don’t marry poor boys.”
I borrow the line from my favorite movie. I never did understand Jay Gatsby, trying so hard to strike it rich for a woman, and in the end, he realized what a shallow creature Daisy Buchanan really was. Just like what Stella was trying to tell Max.
I know Zarah’s not like that anymore. How could she be? Her experiences under Ash’s control and what they did to her in Quiet Meadows changed her, but she’ll always have that history. She’ll never know what it’s like to have to work for what you need.
“It’s not about the money.”
I laugh. “That’s easy to say if you have it. Congratulations, really. Stella’s a good person. Remember where she came from. She’ll always be different from you.”
“Better, you mean. I got it, and yeah, I already know. Take it easy, Davenport.”
“You do the same.”
Zane steps out the door, and Baby gazes longingly after him. I pull on my jacket and stuff my feet into my boots and let her out. It snowed another couple of inches, and the rising sun is glimmering in the sky. Zane’s tire tracks run down the parking lot marring the freshly fallen snow, but his vehicle is already gone.
It hurts a little I won’t be at Zane and Stella’s ceremony tonight. I was actually looking forward to listening to their vows, holding Zarah’s hand and spinning dreams of our future, too. Seems downright stupid now, having only just met her a few short months ago.
I let my romantic side out and it broke my heart. I should have known better.
In the strip mall’s parking lot, I park my truck next to Pop’s car, and his look is guarded when I step inside our office. He’s always afraid he’s going to hurt me more somehow, but I can’t tell him that’s damn near impossible.
“Mornin’,” he says, stapling papers together. “I brought breakfast.”
“Thanks. We have a new job.”
Pop’s not dumb. “Stella wants us to look into Ingrid Flannigan’s death.”
“Zane, but yeah. I haven’t sent back the difference from what Stella paid me, so I figured why not. Though, I don’t know what he expects us to find. It’s a little spooky, but I just don’t see it going anywhere.”
“Do you think she was involved with Quiet Meadows?”
I take off my jacket. “I don’t know. It’s a good enough place to start. Seems like women associated with that hellhole are dropping like flies.”
“Is Zarah gonna be okay?” Pop whispers her name like he’s saying a prayer. Either to keep from hurting my feelings or out of a sincere worry for her. He liked her, and I know he wouldn’t have minded in the least had she and I gotten hitched.
It chills me to the bone Zarah could end up hurt through all this, but I can’t live their lives and I tell Pop that. “Zane knows what’s going on. I’ve told him all my suspicions and that they were using Quiet Meadows as a testing site for...something. He knows about the dead girls. If all his gazillions can’t keep Zarah safe, I’m not going to be of much use. Besides, we never did find out anything about my truck. Could be us spending time together would have been just as dangerous as her being alone. He’ll do what he needs to do to protect her.”
“When do you want to check it out?”
“Better sooner than later. I told him we aren’t going to find anything, but he insisted. He’s going to be MIA for the next couple of days—he and Stella are getting married this evening at the courthouse then they’re dropping off the grid.”
“What’s Zarah going to do?”