Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Wolf
Wolf had pulled the phone away from his ear when Camellia had answered it the way she had. Who the hell had she thought he was? She’d sounded furious, and then, after she realized it was him, shaky. She was scared.
He drove to the library. He’d already been in town, so it wasn’t far. He didn’t even park, just pulled up beside her car.
She got out the driver’s door and re-locked it. Then she hopped into his passenger side quickly and gave a good look around them before she focused on him.
Her eyes didn’t look right—wide with pinpoint pupils. He put the truck into gear, but he didn’t drive around the block to Joe’s. She sent him a question with her eyes. Dang, those eyes hit him hard every time they latched on. He thought there ought to be a ricochet sound effect.
“I thought of a better spot. The Dark Pony. Out of town, quieter.”
“Okay.”
“Because you seem nervous here.”
“Do I?”
“Your head’s on a swivel like you’re a war vet with PTSD.”
She finally looked at him and some of the fear left her eyes. She closed them, then took a deep breath and released it. “Well, the PTSD part’s right. Just hasn’t acted up in a while.”
“And why’s it acting up now, Camellia?”
She pressed a hand to her chest, tucked her chin, and took slow, measured breaths, blowing each one out through pursed lips. After several of them, she said, “My ex called.”
“The stalker?” He went dark. That was the only way to describe the feeling that descended on him.
“I don’t know how he got the number. It’s unlisted. I answered, not knowing it was him.”
“What did he say?”
“He said, ‘who is he?’”
“Who is he,” Wolf repeated. To his own ears, his voice had gone an octave lower.
“I think he meant you. I haven’t been around any other he of late. I hung up, but he called right back. I was about to block his number when you called.” She lowered her head. “Sorry I yelled at you.”
“I just wish he could’ve heard it,” he said. “I wouldn’t mess with a woman who sounded like that, nossir. So you finished blocking the number, right?”
“Yeah, and I’ll have to change mine. I know the drill. This is a violation of the restraining order, too, so I’ll report it.”
Wolf’s emotions were more tumultuous than their short acquaintance called for.
He couldn’t sort that out and didn’t try, because he needed to focus on Camellia.
He could deal with his own feelings on his own time.
She’d seemed really scared. But also appeared to be getting past her panic. “Does he know where you live?”
“I didn’t live with Mom when we broke up, but he knows where she lives.
” Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she frowned, then said, “I was thinking the same thing, then remembered she’s not home.
She and her bestie are shopping for their group cruise, then flying to Galveston to spend the night in a fancy hotel. They board the ship tomorrow morning.”
“Are you saying you have the place to yourself and your mom is out of town?” He asked the question with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows he instantly regretted.
No flirting. She’d drop him like a hot potato.
“Just kidding.” It sounded lame, tacked on the end like that.
“Here we are.” He steered the old truck into a packed-dirt parking lot with only a handful of vehicles in it.
The building was a slab-sided rectangle, and music spilled from its swinging doors.
In a wide front window, a neon sign said “Dark Pony,” and the Y’s tail flickered like a signal light with a broken fuse.
“It’s quiet enough here,” he said. “You can see everybody in the place, and sit with your back to the wall. Okay?”
“Perfect. Thanks for being so thoughtful.”
“Sure.” He opened his door and got out, then went around to open hers, but she was already hopping to the ground.
They headed inside. It was dark and cool, and a thin band of tobacco smoke hung low.
The hardwood bar was short, backed by a shelved mirror where the bottles lived.
A Mexican woman stood behind it, filling a stein with beer from a tap.
There were six stools in front and little round tables all around.
The jukebox to the left of the entrance was silent.
Another woman moved around the floor, delivering orders to the folks at the handful of occupied tables.
Wolf found a table in a shadowy corner in the back, with a full view of the room. She sat down, and then he did. The waitress showed up immediately. “What can I get for you?” she asked in a heavy Spanish accent.
“Brazos, if you have it on tap,” Wolf said, naming his favorite beer. Then he asked Camellia, “Two?”
“Quiero un whisky. Doble. Con hielo.”
The server smiled, but she made no comment as she left to get their drinks.
“So you speak Spanish,” he said.
“Badly. No doubt to our server’s amusement, but I like to practice with real people when I can.”
Wolf leaned back in his seat and said, “Have you seen any sign of him?”
Camellia had been scanning the patrons since they’d sat down.
He’d taken a quick survey himself. The guys on the barstools along the front of it were regulars, he’d bet.
They chatted and called the bartender by name.
The rest of the folks at tables and the pair at the pool table seemed harmless.
He watched her big eyes sweep the place, then she gave a nod, and her body seemed to lose a little of its stiffness.
Their server came back with their drinks. When she set Camellia’s down, she said, “Estoy aquí hasta las diez si me necesitas.” Then she slipped away with a narrow look at Wolf that he felt clear to his toes.
“What did she say?” he asked.
“She’s on until ten if I need her,” she replied. “I wonder why she—”
“She thinks it’s me,” he said, when she was out of earshot.
“She thinks what’s you?”
“She can see you’re scared and nervous, and I’m the nearest guy to you, so—”
“Oh, hell, I’m sorry, Wolf.”
“It’s all right. Hell, it’s fine. If I had a sister and she walked into a bar with some guy looking scared as hell, I’d want her server to look out for her.”
“It’s not my intention to be so obvious.
Or so scared.” She tried to school her face, but in doing it frowned so hard it made him smile.
Then she rolled her eyes, took a mighty slug from her glass of whiskey on the rocks, and coughed most of it back out again.
“Hooo—that’s strong!” She mopped up the table with a napkin, then took a more moderate sip.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked.
“No. I really don’t.”
“Okay. You want to eat some unhealthy bar food?”
“I do. Yes.”
He signaled the waitress and she gave them the sign for just a sec.
Then Camellia said, “I used to have to watch for Earl everywhere I went. He’d just show up, at the drugstore or the gym.
I’d see him lurking at the bank, or grocery store.
He’d stand outside my apartment, under a streetlight to make sure I’d see him.
He’d call and call. Every time I changed my number, he’d get it again.
All hours of the night, he’d call and tell me the sick shit he was going to do to me one of these nights, to teach me a lesson.
For leaving him, I guess.” She shivered and rubbed her arms. “I never knew whether he was just trying to terrify me or if he was going to really do it, really hurt me, you know?”
Wolf swore softly, sounding a little like his mom, he thought.
Camellia took another slug of the whiskey. Apparently, she’d got used to the burn, because it was bigger than the first one and she didn’t spew it back out this time.
“You didn’t tell me why you were calling,” she said. “Just came to the rescue like a unicorn.”
He frowned and wondered just how hard that whiskey was hitting her. “I was calling to ask why you weren’t,” he said. “Calling, that is.”
“Oh?” She blushed a little. “But we both said neither of us were looking for—”
“About the case.” Damn, he’d messed that up, and now she was embarrassed. He hadn’t meant to do that. So he added, “And I don’t know, I kind of missed your smiling face. You should’ve brought it along.”
She smiled with her mouth only, and sarcastically at that.
He shook his head and said, “Not even close.”
“Best I can do at the moment. Maybe after I finish this.” And she took another swallow.
“So the reason you haven’t called?” he prompted.
“Ah, right, the reason I haven’t called is because I didn’t have a good excuse—reason.
Reason. Because the case hasn’t really started yet.
I haven’t picked up a single lead. Nothing in the newspaper archives, nothing on the net.
” She shook her head in obvious frustration.
“Maybe my nemesis was right and I suck as a detective.”
“You have a nemesis?” Wolf raised his eyebrows and looked at her with new eyes. “I’m learning a lot about you today.”
“We both took the same accelerated course for the PI licensing exam last year. We competed for mock cases. The tougher the case, the better the potential for a high grade, so we wanted the good ones, and we both knew which ones those were.” She took another sip. The glass was almost empty.
He didn’t say a thing. He didn’t want to interrupt; she might stop talking if he did.
“Most of the people in that class couldn’t tell a great case from a misdemeanor, but we could. It was first-come, first-served. You had to go to the instructor personally to choose a case file, and you never knew when the list would drop. He’d announce it at random on a class-wide message.”
“Interesting instructor.”
“It was the best part of the class,” she said, smiling. “We pretended to hate each other, but deep down, I think we were both having a blast coming up with ways to delay each other when the cases opened up. I was, anyway.”
Her smile was real again. He liked that. “What kinds of ways?”
The waitress came back with a bowl of mixed pretzels and peanuts. “You need another?” she asked Camellia in English.