Killing Ruby Rose (21 page)

CHAPTER 22

Liam leaned against the hood of Detective Martinez’s unmarked police car while I paced next to it. Martinez sat in his driver’s seat with his door open, silently staring at his computer screen. He held his cell phone like a hand grenade.

If anyone from school saw us right now, they’d think that Liam and I had just been pulled over by an undercover cop. But asking Martinez to meet us outside Starbucks on Main Street was the first plan that crossed my mind. The location was public (which made me feel better), close to the precinct (yet far enough away that I couldn’t be thrown inside a detention cell), and near the Pacific Coast Highway (for a quick getaway to Dr. T). Too bad it was also busy. I could tell that a few people inside the café had recognized me. I turned my back to them and stopped pacing next to Liam.

“The warrant was issued at least forty-five minutes ago,” Martinez grumbled. “Damn it, this shouldn’t take so long.”

Liam and I looked at each other, wordlessly communicating our confusion at his being mad at anyone but us.

Minutes felt like hours while we waited for a shred of hope. It made little sense that Martinez wasn’t pounding me for answers, grilling me on the details. He’d simply taken my word for it that the Key Killer had pounced again and, without blinking, he’d requested the warrant to access the cell phone information. I’d even shown him the key with the messages attached. All he did he was sit there steaming, texting up a storm.

I was about to ask Martinez if there was anything else I could be doing, when the two-way radio in his car rumbled to life with a staticky voice. The only words I caught from a few feet away were “last known ping,” “Pasadena,” and “Rose Bowl Stadium.”

“Ten-four,” Martinez said, staring into the distance. He typed another text into his phone.

“What are you doing? Is everything OK?” I asked. Was there something I’d missed over the radio?

Sweat beads ran down his cheeks despite the cool dusk air. He ignored me and continued texting. I didn’t like it. As I was about to grab the car door, Liam blocked me with his arm, but I shoved him away.

“Detective, what’s going on?” I asked, standing directly next to the open car door. “If you don’t tell me, I’m going alone. I heard Rose Bowl Stadium. I’ll just go—”

“I warned them,” he said sharply. “None of this should’ve happened. None of it!”

“Who? Warned who?”

When Martinez wouldn’t answer, I spun to Liam. “Screw this. Let’s go. I don’t have to wait for a police escort.”

“Wait,” Martinez said, getting out of his car. “Ruby, you’re not going anywhere without me. Do you hear me, young lady?”

I ground my teeth. Young lady was better than sweetie or honey, but not by much.

“Well, I’m not going to sit around here listening to you spout off to yourself about who knows what!” I raised my voice. “Dr. Teresa could be dying right this second.”

“Get in the car,” he ordered. “You, too, Mr. Slater. Now.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. Sirens could only decrease travel time.

As we drove, I wondered when he was going to call for backup. Instead, he drove north with a locked jaw and lead foot, occasionally shaking his head at me in the rearview mirror. Liam squeezed my hand as we slid around the backseat like bobble-head dolls.

I wanted to know how long it was going to take to get there and what we were going to do when we got there. But it was almost like we had an unspoken agreement not to ask questions.

“What do you think it means?” Liam whispered in my ear.

“Think
what
means?” I asked back. Was he talking about Martinez’s bizarre silence, the new choice of bait, or something else?

“C’mon, the
Rose
Bowl? You didn’t catch that twisted so-called coincidence?” His hot breath against my skin caused a physiological reaction completely contradictory to my rational one. I was turned on and turned off in one fell swoop—an inconsistency that unfortunately defined my life. Valedictorian contender—or death-penalty candidate? Founder of the Constitution Society—or vigilante lawbreaker? Protector and defender—or vengeful killer?

Whether or not the location was chosen to match my name, the truth was that when we reached the Rose Bowl, the chances of my committing murder again were high. This time, it would probably happen right in front of the detective who’d personally petition for my capital punishment. Why
not
do it at the Rose Bowl? The press would eat this up.

Instead of answering Liam, I stared out the window at the blurred lights. The billboards and neon signs off the freeway grew distorted and fuzzy as unwelcome tears welled up in my eyes. I hated what Silver had made me do, what I had to do now. And I worried this was it for me—that it would be my last night of freedom. The last time I would be able to hold Liam Slater’s hand, touch his face, or
…
kiss his lips.

Without thinking it through, I leaned over and kissed him. He recoiled at first, most likely surprised at the timing, location, and the company—Martinez was less than two feet away with a fairly good view. But I didn’t let Liam go. The kiss meant more than a possible good-bye. It was a thank-you, an apology, and a desperate hope for the best. When I pulled away, I saw the understanding in his eyes. “It might be the last time I get to do that,” I said.

“Don’t say that.” He put his arm around me so that my head fell on his chest. “Everything is going to be OK.”

I wanted to believe him as I savored the taste of his lips.

Now, I would be lucky if they let me have a choice between a firing squad and lethal injection. Though in California, they’d probably kill my soul with never-ending bureaucratic appeals, amicus briefs, and rubber knock-off Crocs sandals long before they killed my body. At least the Orange County prison had HBO, a luxury I used to think was preposterous.

I clutched at the key still piercing my hand. There was no hope left for me, but maybe some remained for Dr. T. This was all worth it for her. I would not let her die.

Suddenly, we weren’t on the freeway anymore. Instead, we were in some kind of residential neighborhood. Old houses, apartment buildings, and winding streets.

I couldn’t help myself anymore. “Detective, where are you going?”

Martinez didn’t respond; he only clutched the steering wheel tighter. What was going on with him? What wasn’t he telling me?

“Is this how you get to the Rose Bowl?” I sat forward and put my arms over the back of the passenger headrest. “When are you going to call for more units?”

“Damn it, Ruby!” he roared. “Just sit back and shut up. Trust me when I say that more units won’t help in a situation like this. Or don’t you remember the last time SWAT let you down?” He took a hard turn into an apartment complex.

I sat back, not expecting the aggressive snap or the painful truth. He was right—SWAT had let me down in the worst way possible the day they let my dad die.

He parked against the back wall of the bare parking lot and threw the car into park with too much force. An awful cranking noise escaped from the hood of the car. He flipped open his phone and started that texting crap again.

“Detective,” I began, trying to sound respectful. “Please, tell me what’s going on.”

“You’ve got history here, Ruby Rose,” he said, turning around to face me. “He’s brought you back to the beginning.”

That was it—Detective Martinez knew who Silver was. “The beginning of what?” I asked. “Just tell me why we’re here. I thought we were supposed to be going to the Rose Bowl.”

“The stadium is right behind that hill,” he said, pointing behind the abandoned-looking apartment building. I could just see the bright lights of the stadium in the night sky.

“But we’re not going there,” he went on. “He’s brought you back to apartment 4E.”

I tried to make sense of the apartment number, but 4E meant nothing to me. I racked my brain and scanned the building for something familiar to jog my memory. And there it was, the address sign: College Village South Apartments—366 University Parkway. This was the third time Silver had used those three numbers in his sick game. He’d meant to lure me here all along, and Martinez knew it.

“Why here? What is this place?” I demanded.

When he didn’t answer, I leaned over to see his face. His mouth moved like he wanted to say something, but nothing was coming out. Why was it so hard for anyone to tell me anything?

“We don’t have time for this,” I said, exasperated. Resolving not to wait for answers and to go find them myself, I reached for the door handle. But Martinez grabbed my shoulder with a death grip.

“
We
aren’t going anywhere.
I
am going in, alone.” He squeezed my shoulder tighter, with emphasis. “You two are staying here until I say otherwise. Do you understand?”

“No,” I said, pulling away from him. “Dr. T is in there because of me. What if I’m the only one who can save her?”

He gave me a condescending smirk. “You’re seventeen. Believe me, you’re not the only one who can save her.” He turned and got out of the car. “Just stay put,” he said, glaring at us both.

He shut his door, raised his weapon in front of him just like my dad would’ve done, and disappeared under a dark archway of the building.

“I’m not sitting here,” I said to Liam. “I’m the one with the key.” I pulled it out of my pocket.

“Ruby, I’m begging you,” Liam said. “Just wait.”

He stared with concern at the spot where Detective Martinez had disappeared, but I knew Martinez was fully capable of defending himself. At least he had a weapon, which was something we didn’t have. I searched the squad car for a stowed shotgun or a hidden knife, but I found nada. My only weapon now was the key.

After minutes that seemed more like wasted hours, I caved. I wasn’t going to be a spectator anymore. As I was about to leap out of the car, the boom of a cannon sounded and fireworks exploded behind the hill. The home team must’ve scored. For a moment, the beauty of the scene blindsided me, and I couldn’t help but watch the streaming colors fall from the sky. I grabbed the door handle. “Liam, you can stay here if you want, but I have to go in.”

When he didn’t move or respond, I waved a hand in front of his face to get his attention. He grabbed my hand and pinned it down, continuing to stare at where Martinez had disappeared.

“Are you listening to me?” I said, losing patience.

“Ruby, just wait,” he said in a hushed tone. “I thought I saw something.”

“What?” I strained to see what he was talking about. “Where?”

“I don’t know.” He huffed and finally pulled his tense body away from the window to rub his eyes. “Maybe it was nothing.”

“Liam, what did you see?”

“I thought I saw a flicker of light in the apartment up there,” he said, pointing to the second story. “I thought I heard something, too.”

I looked up to where he was pointing but didn’t see anything. “Are you sure it wasn’t the fireworks?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m going to go check it out,” I said, but he stopped me again.

“Wait, Ruby, it’s a trap. You know that!” The intensity of Liam’s eyes in the darkness was more effective than his python-like grip. “Just because Martinez didn’t want to call for backup doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t—”

“No, I think Martinez was right. If we call it in, anyone from dispatch to SWAT could handle it wrong and Dr. T could die. Maybe Martinez knows what he’s doing. He seems to know a lot more about Silver than we do.” I shook my head in disbelief that I was actually siding with Martinez. “Look, Silver has a plan, and at this point I don’t think killing me is part of it, so I’m going in there. And you are
not
going to stop me.”

I got out of the car, and Liam climbed out after me. The building’s entrance seemed more like a deserted mine than college housing. And given how close we were to the stadium, it felt odd for the area to be so forsaken.

A bluster of dust nearly knocked me into Liam as I moved toward the dark corridor’s opening. All the exterior lights were either burned out or busted in. If anyone still lived in these apartments, I felt sorry for them.

Martinez must’ve somehow known exactly where 4E was, and he’d gone this way, so we followed the path until it opened up into a courtyard with a gated pool. The water looked like the greenish-brown algae color of swamps meant for gator huntin’—not bikinis and Pi Beta Phi keg parties. It even smelled like a rotting cesspool. Anything could be at the bottom of that water.

Signs were posted all around the gate, and I crossed the dying grass to read one. The place had been condemned. Scheduled to be torn down and rebuilt in a few months. Which meant it was abandoned, and we were alone.

“Great. No witnesses.” Liam’s words echoed my fears. “I don’t feel good about this.”

When had either one of us ever felt good about any of this?

Suddenly, a desperate groan came from the shadows behind us. We spun around to face a dark entryway at the back of a staircase, then we sprinted toward the sound.

It was Martinez—lying facedown, looking broken and barely alive. Blood poured out of his shirt. He’d been shot.

“I knew I heard something,” Liam berated himself. “I’m calling 911.”

I wasn’t going to stop him. Though I doubted the cops or an ambulance would get here in time.

“Ruby,” Martinez moaned so low I could barely hear him. I fell to my knees beside him as Liam made the call. The smell of blood mixed with the faint scent of smoke made me dizzy and nauseated. I didn’t know Martinez smoked. I hadn’t smelled it on him in the car.

“I’m here, Detective, right here,” I said, holding his bloodied hand. “We’re calling the paramedics. You’ll be all right.” I hoped it was true.

“Liam, help me turn him over.”

As we carefully rolled Martinez over, I felt a bulletproof vest under his linen shirt. In the dark corridor I couldn’t see where the bullet wounds were.

“I’m going to take your vest off, Detective—”

“No, Ruby, don’t…” He spoke laboriously, like every syllable pained him. “I tried
…
to prevent it
…
to make them—make
her
—tell you
…
the truth.”