Cop a Feel (Handcuffs and Happily Ever Afters) (6 page)

“Ewwww,” Rena said, examining the carnage that used to be my phone. “Guess that didn’t go so well.”

“No,” I whispered, trying to hold back the avalanche of tears that threatened to fall.

“I’m really sorry. That was my fault. I thought I was helping.” She leaned in and wrapped her arms around me.

My body relaxed against hers. “No, it’s okay. It was actually good, I think. Part of me thought he was still a possibility . . . he’s not.” The tears finally flowed.

“I could have him killed,” Rena volunteered. I grimaced at the irony. I was the type of person who was hired to do just that kind of thing.

“Thanks”—I grinned through my tears—“but no thanks.”

“Do you want my opinion?” she asked as she rubbed my back.

“No, but I don’t suppose that matters.” I pulled back and waited for something obscene or profound.

“You’re right.” She giggled and then turned serious. “As much as you want to pretend he’s not a possibility, you still think he is one. And so does he.”

I contemplated what she’d said. I wanted to deny it, but what was the use? She was right and I was an idiot. If he had told me what I wanted to know, I would have lost respect for him. His dedication to his job was something I understood. I honored mine the same way. Fuck, I was living such a double standard. I wouldn’t have told him anything either. My behavior was stupid and immature, but I was stuck. I didn’t know what else to do. Did my self-preservation instinct outweigh my ability to be human?

“I bought more chips,” she said, and handed me a huge bag. “Let’s go interview an over botoxed skank. I promise it will make you feel better.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

“W
ait.” I grabbed Rena’s arm and yanked her to a stop as we approached the jail where the infamous Evangeline was incarcerated. “Tell me why you think this is a waste of time.”

“Did you read the threatening notes Shoshanna got?” she asked.

“I did.”

“Do you know Evangeline’s background in the literary world?”

“I do.”

“Then trust me when I tell you she couldn’t have written those notes. The grammar was correct, there was punctuation included, and even though they had a fanatical religious undertone, they actually made sense,” Rena replied.

“She’s that stupid?”
How was that possible?

“Yep. Although, I suppose someone else here could have written them for her.”

“No, they weren’t sent from the jail. They came from Saint Paul. It would have to be someone working with her on the outside.” I removed the folder from my bag and glanced over the photocopies of the notes and the envelopes. The notes had been typed and were free of all fingerprint evidence. Whoever was doing this was well-versed in law enforcement tracking methods. Not a trace to lead to the perp.

“Holy hell,” Rena hissed. “No one would work with her on the outside. She has no friends, and her only acquaintances are either serving time or were being blackmailed by her. Nope. No help from the outside,” she stated with complete confidence.

“She has the most clear-cut motive,” I muttered as I searched the file for any disciplinary actions on her jail record. None. She was a model prisoner.

“True,” Rena agreed, “but I still don’t think she’s responsible for the threats.”

I glanced over at my new friend and watched for any signs that she was hiding something—body language, red face, fidgety movement . . . Jesus, what was I doing? Was everyone a suspect?

“Do ya think I did it?” Rena crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrow.

“Am I that transparent?” I groaned.

“No, I just get you. So answer.”

I heaved a sigh and ran my hands through my hair. “No, I don’t think you did it, but I looked at you. I did. I looked at you as a possibility,” I spat, disgusted with myself. Did I trust no one? No, I didn’t. It was becoming increasingly clear that no matter how good I was at my job, my job had taken over my life.

“What do you do for fun?” she asked, and pulled me over to a bench. “Sit.”

I did.

“Fun?” I hoped I’d misunderstood.

“Yes, Candy. Fun.”

“Um . . .” I racked my brain so I wouldn’t sound as unsocial as I really was. “Work.”

“Hobbies?”

“I shoot stuff,” I mumbled.

“I think you need to branch out a little.”

“Ya think?” I laughed. Even to my own ears I sounded pathetic.

“Look, I’m not attracted to boring people,” Rena said. My stomach cramped. Was she breaking up with me? Dammit to hell, I felt the heat crawl up my neck. I wanted to change my answers, but I couldn’t come up with a lie that sounded even remotely true. “You are not boring, but you’re wedged so far up inside yourself, there’s a chance you may never come out. It’s kind of like sticking your foot up your ass and pulling it out of your mouth. You know what I mean?”

“Um, no.”

“Actually that wasn’t a really good example,” she admitted.

“You’re in your own way. Clearly you’re a good cop.”

“Agent,” I corrected her.

“Agent.” She rolled her eyes and that heat I’d felt creeping up my neck landed squarely on my cheeks. “You can’t go home to your job. You can’t have sex with your job—well, you kind of did.” She grinned and punched me in the arm. “Your brother is worried about you—so is Steve. And now because you showed up in my life, I am too. I don’t take kindly to that, so you better be worth it.”

“I want to be. For the first time in a long time I want to be.” We sat in silence and shockingly I had no need to fill it. The truth would be so depressing and sad.

“What happened to you?” she asked quietly.

How did I answer that one? Nothing had happened to me. I never let anything happen to me. I had closed myself off a long time ago.

After my sister died of an overdose, I had a mission. Hell-bent on destroying people like the ones who had destroyed my sister and my family, I stopped feeling—It was too difficult. Mitch had been lucky. He’d left for college right after she died, and then everything fell apart—truly apart.

For the next several years till I went off to college, my family lived in silence. Hence my irrational need to fill it. We splintered, each handling our pain differently. Our once happy, loving family disappeared. My parents blamed themselves and became cold and distant with each other. I had no clue why they even stayed together. It would have been better if they had screamed or cried or divorced.

My mother’s need to control my younger sister and myself was debilitating. My baby sister handled it by withdrawing, and I handled it by excelling—in everything except being human. I was a straight A student, an award-winning athlete, and a cold bitch. Therapy might have helped, but we were proud, churchgoing Midwesterners. We had God and each other. That worked out swimmingly. During my time in training, I did a lot of therapy and had considered myself cured—till now.

Now my humanity and my desire to have friends and be loved were slipping through my formerly well-protected cracks. It was more frightening than hand-to-hand combat. Combat had a logical end. Life or death. Being vulnerable to other people was gray and messy and something I had very little experience with. I adored my brother and I loved my boss. Steve had become my de facto father and I knew without a doubt those two men would be there for me no matter how difficult I was. Friends and lovers were another thing altogether.

How to answer Rena . . . whether to answer Rena . . .

“It’s too long to go into, but I think I might be finally getting past it.”

“That’s gonna suck,” she said.

“What the hell does that mean?” I snapped. She had no fucking clue what she was talking about.

“Becoming human,” she replied sympathetically. “Risking your heart, not just your life.”

God, maybe she did know what she was talking about. And maybe she was right.

“Well, no worries, it will be fine.” She smiled reassuringly and took my hand. “You have me and Kristy and Shoshanna now. You’ll be human in no time.”

I rolled my eyes and tried to suppress the grin that was coming straight from my lighter heart. “That certainly sounds frightening.”

“Frightening doesn’t even begin to cover it,” she said, laughing, and yanked me to my feet. “Come on, it’s about time you vomited in your mouth.”

“I’m sorry. What?”

“Whoops, I meant it’s time for you to meet Evangeline.”

We signed in at the entrance of the jail and went through the first secure door, which promptly closed and bolted behind us. The second door would open once we’d complied with regulations. The walls were covered in lock boxes, and red security camera lights blinked rapidly in all four corners. I began to disarm.

“What the fuck? Are we in a cell?” Rena asked, glancing around nervously.

“Nope.” I laughed. “I figured since you’d been arrested before, you’d know the drill.”

“Well you
figured
wrong. I was never convicted of anything and never thrown in the pokey,” she huffed. “Jesus Christ, you’re a freakin’ arsenal.”

I removed my two guns, my cuffs, and a knife and placed them in a locker. “Give me your purse,” I told her, and removed the folder and a pen from my bag. “We can’t take anything in except my files, but our personal effects will be safe in here and we can get them on the way out.”

Rena handed me her purse and I locked everything up.

“Can I have my cell phone? I was hoping to get a photo of the skank.”

“Nope.” I chuckled and shook my head. “No cell phones. No pictures.”

“Dammit, I just lost thirty dollars,” she groaned.

I rolled my eyes and tucked the key in my pocket. As soon as our belongings were stowed away, the second door automatically opened.

“How did you do that?” she asked, bewildered.

“I didn’t. The little guy in the camera did.”

“You’re beginning to sound like my aunt Phyllis. She has Martians in her TV and cyborgs in her toilet.”

“Awesome.” I knew of her aunt Phyllis. I’d witnessed Phyllis’s brand of crazy during the Bigfoot drug bust. Actually crazy wasn’t remotely accurate, it was more like bat-shit loony, but I did like her. “We’re being monitored and they watched us disarm.”

“This feels kind of surreal,” Rena whispered, moving closer to me.

“It is, but we’re completely safe,” I told her, and followed the guard on the other side of the door.

“You’re here to see Evangeline?” the personality-free female guard grunted as she escorted us to a conference room.

“Yep.”

“She’s quite the hit here. Very popular,” the guard gushed with admiration, all of a sudden full of life.

Rena choked on her own spit and I grabbed her arm before she volunteered something that would get us removed from the premises.

“You don’t say, um . . . Sally,” I replied, glancing at her name tag.

“Oh yes, she’s the belle of the ball. Would you like me to stay in the room while you chat?” she queried hopefully.

This was bizarre. Did she have a crush on Evangeline? “No. That won’t be necessary, but thank you.” A deflated Sally left the room.

“What the fuck was that?” Rena demanded.

I quickly nodded my head to the corner of the room at the camera, letting her know we were being taped and she should shut her pie-hole.

“What the fuck was that?” she whispered.

I shrugged my shoulders and grinned. “Seems like Miss O’Hara has an admirer.”

“Help me, Jesus,” Rena muttered, plopping down in a chair. “Just try not to scream.”

“Why would I . . . holy shit,” I yelped, and slammed myself up against the wall as the most unnaturally large pair of boobs entered the room followed by a skeletal thin body and a face that could give a blind person a heart attack.

She was clad in prison orange, but the neckline of her jumpsuit had been altered to reveal her pickled cleavage. The bosoms actually started at her neck and the sheer weight of them was throwing her balance off, but her face . . . My God, I’d never seen anything like it. Her upper lip literally touched her nose and she had a permanently shocked look on her face due to her nonexistent eyelids. I was struck dumb.

I glanced over at Rena, who was enjoying my terror immensely. Although when she got her first gander of Evangeline, she gagged and latched on to the table.

“Shit,” she gasped. “They’re bigger.”

“Ruby daaahhhling, it’s so good to see you.” Evangeline tripped her way toward the table. Years of ingrained training made me sprint over to catch her before she fell flat on her face.

“Arrrgrafabragah,” she screeched, grabbing my hair for balance. Evangeline ignored the fact that she had a death grip on my head and continued her conversation with Rena. “Ruth, I need you to move. I have to sit there so the camera gets my best angle. Can’t have my fans seeing me not at my best,” she trilled, using me like a cane as she wobbled her way to the coveted chair. Rena bolted up and quickly moved as far away from the walking disaster as she could. It would have been nice of her to help me peel the freak show off my head, but I was clearly on my own.

“Excuse me, Miss O’Hara, I’m going to have to ask you to release my head. Now.” I unglued her claws and helped her to her seat. I gave Rena the stink eye and cautiously moved back from Evangeline.

“My goodness,” she cooed.
Sweet Jesus, her mouth didn’t close when she talked due to her gargantuan lips.
“Aren’t you a pretty little thing? Rutah, you have such lovely friends! What’s your name?”

“I’m Candace Sanderson and I’m with the Drug Enforcement Agency. I’m here to ask you a few questions.”

“Oh, Connie, how exciting,” she shouted, making me cringe. She leaned in as much as her bloated chest would allow and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Is this about the Botox and Juvederm shipment? I had nothing to do with that, Corrine. It was that sneaky Tracey. She was trying to get into my pants. Of course, I led her on until I’d been plumped and frozen, and then I dropped her like a hot potato. If she ratted me out, Yvonne will kick her ass.”

I was speechless. That was the most bizarre connection of words strung together I’d ever heard.

“Did they put Juvederm in your knockers?” Rena inquired casually from her safe corner.

“Of course not, Rula!” Evangeline laughed hysterically. “That was silicone! My lover Yvonne was able to procure a bit of the magic elixir. You see,” she explained logically, “one can’t let one’s bosom go south. It’s not good form. So clearly, Claudia, you’re wasting your time if you’re trying to pin the goods on me. However, if it would mean an extended stay at the prison resort, I might be willing to perjure myself and take the rap.”

“Um . . . while that’s all very enlightening,” I stuttered, “that’s not why we’re here.”

“Oh, thank God.” She heaved a huge sigh, which made her lips flap. “Please disregard everything I just told you. I’d hate for my suppliers to be cut off. A woman must maintain her beauty, especially in the slammer, if you know what I mean.” She tried to wink and it came out like a small seizure. My gag reflex kicked in and I decided to focus only on her forehead. Rena had gone mute. I assumed this was a little much even for her to process.

“Actually, Miss O’Hara,” I started.

“Call me Evangeline, Cora,” she insisted.

“My name is Candace,” I corrected, and heard Rena snort in the corner.

“That’s what I said, Crystal.”

“Oookay then, let’s get to the questions.” I opened my folder and attempted to put my professional face back on.

“Wait,” she shrieked. “Don’t you need to pat me down? It’s fine with me if you do. I won’t fight you, Cassandra. I could be hiding something in my quivering cleavage,” she purred suggestively, and ran her claws through her hair, which if I was not mistaken, and I was not, knocked her wig to the left.