Land of Entrapment (13 page)

Shit. I watched her close the door behind her. No.

No way in hell am I following up on this. I exhaled and entered Megan’s place. I shut the security door. And hold on, but she’s with Jeff. Isn’t she? Or is she? Kids today! I turned on the TV to distract myself and went to put my sleep wear on.

I was sitting on the couch watching the ten o’clock news when Chris arrived, which made everything feel better. She came in and dropped her duffle bag on the floor. She had changed into shorts and tee before she left work. I got her an iced tea from the fridge. Chris didn’t like to drink alcohol this late. We talked about her day and mine. She was glad I got the locks changed and she was still waiting to hear about the prints. The day after tomorrow I’d hang out with the gang unit. That was good news. I told her what Sage had said about Cody and his friends. I also told her about Sage.

Chris grinned. “So she’s an omnisexual hottie, huh?”

“They should name hurricanes after her.”

She laughed. “Sounds like she might be a lot of fun, esa.”

“No. I mean, yes. I’m sure she’s a blast. But I am not hooking up with Megan’s friends. There’s something really wrong about that.”

“What? She’s of legal age.”

“Barely! There’s got to be at least ten years between us.”

She shrugged. “I’m not talking about marriage, amiga. Maybe a summer fling is what you need.”

I was sitting on one end of Megan’s couch. Chris had her long legs stretched out and her bare feet on the coffee table. I’m sure Megan would’ve had a cow if she saw that. “No. Nope. She’s with Jeff, for chrissakes. And I’m not here to hook up with anybody. I’m here to do a job.”

Chris laughed softly and turned her head to regard me. “So how are things going with Melissa?”

I groaned. “Damn, you sure know how to ruin a mood.” I sighed. “It’s weird, being here.” Chris waited for me to elaborate, as I knew she would. “I feel guilty,” I said with a sigh.

“About what?”

“I was thinking today that maybe if I had at least stayed in touch with Megan, maybe she wouldn’t have hooked up with somebody like Cody.”

“I thought you might guilt-trip yourself about that.”

“Shit, do I have any secrets from you?” I reached for my own bottle of tea.

“That’s just how you are. Sometimes you think you’re Superwoman, and you should be able to save the damn world.” She reached over and squeezed my knee. “I’m here to remind you that you are an awesome human being, but you are not omnipotent.”

I looked at her in mock horror. “You are really bursting my bubble here.”

She rolled her eyes then became serious. “Megan made a choice. It was a bad one. We don’t know for sure why she made it or what she was feeling or why she thought Cody was the guy for her. There’s nothing you can do about that. Maybe it would’ve been different if you’d kept in touch with her. Maybe not. You know her history. Megan has a hard time making healthy choices and to suggest that you might have been the person to change her is arrogant, esa.”

She regarded me for a moment. “Make sure that helping her now is about her and not necessarily you.

Though I know you’re tangled up in this.” She took a swallow of tea.

“I hate it when you’re right.” I pretended to pout.

Chris smiled and pulled at the wrapper on her bottle. “Are you feeling guilty about Melissa?”

“No, really,” I grumbled. “I totally hate it when you’re right.”

Chris sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. It was her “well?” expression.

“Yes,” I said, exasperated. “I don’t know why.”

“Maybe because three years has allowed you a little space to see a bigger picture.”

I nodded, thinking about that. Had I let Melissa into my apartment that day she came by to try to talk to me, would Megan be in the position she was in now?

“Don’t second-guess,” Chris interrupted my ruminations. “The past is done. But maybe you’ll learn something from it.”

“I keep wondering what would have happened if I’d tried to work it out with her.”

Chris shrugged. “Nobody can say. You did what you thought you had to do, based on the information you had at the time. You know what they say about hindsight.”

I drummed my fingers on my thigh, thinking about the picture of me with Melissa at Taos Pueblo.

“Are you feeling anything for her?”

I glanced up at her. Chris always knew how to nail me to a wall. “I don’t know. I mean, there’ve been a couple of times that I thought maybe I did, but then when I think about getting together with her, I don’t feel anything. I think it’s just the past coming up.”

“If she asks you, would you get back with her?”

I shook my head. “Right now, I’m going to say no.

I haven’t talked to her but my gut’s telling me no.”

Chris leaned forward and picked her bottle up off the coffee table. “Esa, I’m going to tell you something that I think you need to hear.”

I looked at her, a twinge of anxiety in my stomach.

When Chris said stuff like that, it usually meant it was something I didn’t want to hear though it most likely was true.

True to form, she launched right into it. “Melissa’s not good for you. In the beginning, I thought I’d give her a chance because she loved you and you loved her. But as time went on, it didn’t feel to me that she was trying to move beyond her demons, especially where Megan’s concerned.”

“I’m not perfect, either.” I said it defensively and I knew she heard it in my voice.

“I know that.” Her tone was gentle. “But Melissa didn’t give you the opportunities to grow into yourself or in the relationship. You both got stuck.”

“Well, maybe I’m not very good at

communicating, either.”

She shrugged, clearly unconvinced. “You’ve never had that problem with me.”

She was right. I kept my mouth shut.

“And I know how you are. You started working a lot when Megan went into rehab before Melissa had the affair.”

“Maybe my working was a cause for Melissa.” I said the words before I considered them. I hadn’t really addressed that angle before and here it was, breaking the surface of old anger.

“All she had to do was talk to you.”

“I could’ve talked to her. I didn’t.” I crossed my arms over my chest protectively.

“Maybe you didn’t feel welcome to. Don’t get me wrong here. There are two people in a relationship and even in situations like this, fallout comes from both sides. But I never felt you two were a good match.”

“Why are you telling me this now? Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“It wasn’t my place. Melissa isn’t abusive and she’s not an asshole. She loved you and treated you well. But it wasn’t something I felt was right for either of you. Now, it’s been three years and both of you are in different places in your lives. So if you do go down that road with her again, I’ll suspend judgment again. But I’m telling you my feelings on the matter, because I care about you and because you deserve someone who’s in it with you, who can work through the hard stuff, and, frankly, who forces you to deal with things. That is, someone who keeps you from going off the deep end into your work.”

Chris’s words dug into the inner spaces of my past. I hated that, though I knew she was right and my reaction demonstrated that on some level, I recognized it. “Dammit,” I sighed, mock distress in my tone. “Why don’t you just hook up with me? It would be so much easier. I wouldn’t have to negotiate all this bullshit.”

She laughed. “You know I’m not that type. I’m not the marrying kind. But if I was, you’d be at the top of the list.” She reached for her tea. “Except you’d have to live in your own damn place.”

“Well, yeah. You’d drive me crazy if we tried to play house. And I know I’d drive you insane. I get really anal about stupid shit.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Hey!” I leaned over and punched her lightly on the arm. “So what’s your perfect type, Detective Hard-to-get?”

“She’s got to have her own house.” She smiled at me. Chris had a really nice endearing smile that always pushed the right side of her mouth up first. It gave her a sheepish look. She was...well, not beautiful. Handsome might be a better word for her.

Plus, she had a quiet confidence that lots of women seemed to find really attractive. Objectively, as a whole, Chris was pretty damn sexy.

“And?”

“And what? Kase, you know I don’t look for relationships. Sometimes they find me. But I’m not interested in that. I don’t think I’m destined for it.”

“We’ve been together for ten years.” I waggled my eyebrows suggestively.

She smiled and playfully smacked my arm. “Shit, you’re right. But you know what I mean. That relationship intimacy stuff just doesn’t work for me.”

“Have you really tried it?”

She took a sip of her tea. That was Chris’s way of avoiding an answer.

“Ah, I see. Detective I’m-a-cop-and-not-relationship-material hasn’t really gone down that road.” I was surprised.

“Maybe. Maybe not. You know how I am.” She looked at me. “I don’t need a relationship. I like my work, I have my friends, I’ve got my family.

Relationships bring complications and require work that I’m not willing to do.”

“So Trish—”

“Don’t go there.” Her voice had a clipped edge.

“Hey, I’m your friend. That was the closest I’ve seen you come to really liking someone.”

She shrugged. “She didn’t like the cop stuff.”

“So she wasn’t the right one.”

“Whatever.” She took another drink. “I’m in law enforcement. I have fucked-up hours, dangerous shifts, and I deal with the worst of people every day.

That leaves a residue on your aura, whether you want it to or not. You think I have walls to protect me from getting hurt? Well, they’re also there to keep my personal shit off the people in my life. And here’s the loco part. I love what I do.” She sighed. “And the price I pay for that is accepting that intimate relationships probably aren’t going to work out for me.”

I stared at her. “Chris, that is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard you say.” I moved closer and impulsively wrapped her in a bear hug. “And I don’t believe it. You just haven’t met her yet.”

She put her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek. “You’re the incurable romantic. Thank God the world still has people like you.”

“Don’t let that be a self-fulfilling prophecy.” I released her. “Because I’ve seen you at your best and your worst and dammit, you’re a hell of a woman. But if you insist on keeping that attitude, fine. When you’re old, cranky, and decrepit I’ll keep a room made up for you.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure that’ll go well with whatever woman latches onto you.”

“She’ll love you, too, and we’ll treat you like the crazy sister we both wish we had.”

“Thanks,” she said sarcastically though I knew she was teasing. She stood up and took her empty bottle into the kitchen. “I’m beat. Okay if I sleep in the bed with you?”

“Duh. But if you start sprawling, I’m shoving your ass over.”

“How romantic.”

“That’s me.” Yep. Romantic. I headed to the bathroom.

Chapter Eight

I ARRIVED AT the Flying Star at nine forty-five and got in line for counter service, looking longingly at the pastry case as I stood there. When it was my turn, I ordered the breakfast scramble, a mixture of tofu, green chile, potatoes, and a variety of other vegetarian-type things. I also bought a large café mocha and carried my beverage and my number, clipped to its little stand, to an empty table, waiting for both Judy and my food. Like its sister stores in the city, the interior here was an oddly harmonious mix of bright colors, earth tones, and post-modern sensibilities. Call it Jetsons meets Swedish design.

I sat waiting for my food and for Judy, reading through a copy of the Albuquerque Journal, the local paper. I was feeling amazingly relaxed after a great night’s sleep. At eight Chris had gotten up and made coffee. She checked around outside and didn’t find anything that looked out of order. She was due at her grandmother’s to take care of some repairs around the house so she showered and left by nine. Chris would call me later to let me know more about the gang unit.

When I left the house that morning, I didn’t see any activity at Sage and Jeff’s. They were either at work or sleeping a good time off. I caught myself as I got into my car, thinking that I was hoping to see Sage. Total eye candy if nothing else.

I set the newspaper down and looked up in time to see Judy enter the restaurant and get in line. I waved at her. She smiled and waved back. Another granola-type, Judy’s long blond hair hung most often in a braid down her back. She wore wire-rimmed glasses and baggy cotton capri trousers. More often than not, Birkenstocks adorned her feet. I checked. Yep. She wore a pair today. Her faded blue T-shirt had a yin/

yang symbol above her left breast. The line moved quickly and soon she was joining me at the table holding a cup of coffee. I stood after she put her coffee on the table and gave her a hug.

“Good to see you, Kase,” she said as she sat down.

A young hippie chick with a pierced eyebrow brought my food out. I looked apologetically at Judy, who smiled. “Go ahead. I just ordered a bagel.”

“Thanks.” I was really hungry and dug in as Judy sipped her coffee.

“So what’s going on?”

Between bites, I briefly outlined the situation with Megan. Judy did know about my relationship with Melissa though they’d never met. I first contacted Judy when I was in grad school and we maintained a professional research relationship. Though I was open about Melissa, Judy didn’t know about Megan’s addiction problems and I didn’t bring them up. I stopped eating and retrieved a manila folder from one of the other chairs at the table and handed it to her.

“Do you recognize these guys or these tattoos?”

Judy’s bagel arrived and she took a bite as she looked at the photos I had printed out from Megan’s hard drive. “I do recognize this guy.” She pointed to the man I had decided was Roy, based on Sage’s description. “Roy Whistler,” Judy confirmed.

“Hardcore. He’s been on our radar for a couple of years now.”

“Is he from here?”

“No. But I’m not sure where he’s from. He’s had some contact with Matt Hale’s group. You know.