When I Knew You (27 page)

I quickly let go of the wheel, letting him do what I knew he would. He jerked the wheel back.

"Damn it!" he screamed, as his over correcting sent us into a spin.
 

The momentum was too much for the top heavy truck. Everything slowed down as if we were tumbling through a thick amber, and with every blink the scene skipped forward.
 

I glimpsed a silvery flash of the Rocking B, felt my seatbelt tighten like a climber's harness during a fall. Outside I could see the world change from blue sky to asphalt again and again.
 

Without his seat belt to hold him in place, Caleb was tossed around like a bag of climbing gear. In one moment, I saw his startled face, contorted as glass sprayed into the cab all over us. The truck's airbags managed to keep him in the truck for at least one of the flips. As the massive vehicle flipped over again, they must have deflated, because suddenly he was gone.
 

When the truck came to a sliding stop on the road and I looked around in a daze. I was cramped in my seat, the roof was caved in and I was hanging upside down from my seatbelt.
 

I fumbled with the seatbelt, trying to unbuckle myself, but the latch held me fast as if it was too shook up to let go of its grip. I tried to slow my breathing, reminded myself that cars don't blow up, not usually, then closed my eyes.
 

I heard screaming in the distance, along with the quiet ticking of the engine cooling and the clinking sound of broken glass still falling all around me. When I opened my eyes I saw the locket, Estella's locket, dangled in front of my face, swinging slowly. I reached over my head to hold it in my closed fist, holding it like I would hold the kiss from my mother when I was a child, her gentle kiss in the palm of my hand. I hung there for what felt like an eternity, feeling the pain start to radiate as the adrenaline tapered off. The sound of sirens filled the air, and I knew someone would come soon and cut me free.

Chapter 30

Pilar was testing the foothold of her prosthetic leg in the crevice to the rock face, about 20 feet up. We were at Reimer's Ranch, a climber's paradise outside of Austin.

"Are you sure that leg isn't going to break?" I called from the ground. I had the rope around my back, belaying Pilar as she reached for the next hold.

"It better not. Didn't she say it cost a fortune?" Antonia took a picture with her phone, capturing the first field test of Pilar's climbing leg. "Will they charge you for it, Pilar?" she asked.

Pilar twisted, pulling the prosthesis loose from the crevice and hiking it up higher. "Nah." She jammed it forcefully in what looked like a jagged rip in the limestone but was actually a climber's favorite type of crevice. One just wide enough to fit your hands or feet in with plenty of edges to latch on to. "I'm supposed to test it for all conditions. I already told them the rubber they were using on the foot section sucked." The metal of the artificial knee area made a slight scratching sound against the wall as she put weight on it.

"Just clip the damn bolt. You're freaking me out down here." I gave her a little more slack so she could pull up a bite of rope.

"Same here," Antonia said. "Are you sure we have to go through all this trouble to rappel down the wall, Kati?"
 

"No, but it's more fun this way," I said, keeping my eye on Pilar.

"Sure!" shouted Pilar. "I'm doing all the work!" Pilar pulled a carabiner set from her harness and clipped it in place. She reached down and grabbed a bite of rope, neatly setting it in place. When she started to move to her next spot she couldn't pull her prosthetic leg loose from the crevice. "Crap. I'm going to tie off for a second, Kati. I think I got the son of a bitch stuck."

I tried unsuccessfully to stifled a laugh.

"I heard that," she shouted.

"What?" I called back innocently.

"Did she do that when she had a real leg?" Antonia pulled out a cold bottle of water out of the backpack. Sunlight filtered through the oaks, dappling the limestone boulder we were perched on. The boulder was nestled on a wide ledge with just enough soil for trees to wrap their roots around.

"No, she just wiggled it," I said, watching Pilar undo the straps on her prosthesis, then proceeding to try to yank it free of the rock wall. It wouldn't budge.

I'd been back in town for a month and had been busy rebuilding my life in the Hill Country. The Bonita political machine had ground to a halt after the Caleb-slash-Bonita accident with me—now the third in my life—and the evidence against him beginning to dig a hole not even an army of lawyers could fill.
 

Caleb Mayhan had been thrown from the truck, dying on the asphalt of Montana Street. Politicians from around the state were falling over themselves to distance their little corner of power from everything having to do with the Bonita family.
 

I had stayed in El Paso for a few weeks to make sure everything was safe for Mom; then she decided to come and visit for a week or two.

Her memory retained its flickering quality, with more long-term memory and less southern belle. The theory was the extreme stress combined with her partial return to full function for those few days had forced her brain into overdrive and some pathways had been rebuilt. She was on new medication that showed promise in cases like hers. Detective Mora, or Roberto, as she called him, was visiting her regularly. She rarely brought up the Lady these days, but I wasn't sure if it was because she didn't hear the Lady anymore or because she thought better of bringing her up.
 

Abuela returned with the real Bonita clan in tow, and with Gustav's help, they were suing Mayhan's estate for the property and every single company and business he grew after Javier's murder. It looked like the entire family might become multi-millionaires almost overnight.
 

And, according to Willie, Jr., we were about to get a reward for finding the Texarkana serial killer. The reward money had been sitting in the First National Credit Union of Texarkana in a savings account since 1962. Mom and I agreed to split the reward with Willie and her father. Thanks to the power of compounding interest, my portion would go a long way to helping me get back on track.

I heard Pilar shouting, and I searched the rock face only to see loose rocks plummeting toward us.
 

"Rock!" Pilar yelled. Apparently while pulling her prosthesis from the crevice, she had dislodged a good bit of limestone. A large stone careened down the wall. I jumped to one side of the boulder we were on, and Mom scrambled to the other.
 

"Holy cow, you're a menace with that thing!" I shouted back up at her. "What were they thinking at MIT? Don't they have more responsible people to test their new prosthesis designs?"

She howled with laughter and fastened her leg back into place. She reached for her tie off and called down, "On belay!"

"Belay on," I said.

"This rock climbing is pretty dangerous, even if you're just watching," Mom noted, coming back to her spot on the boulder. "I think I lost the water bottle down there."

I shrugged. "We'll get it when we hike down. We brought plenty."

Pilar unclipped the carabiner set and reattached it to her harness while I held her safely in place. "Climbing," Pilar shouted, as she reached up for her next handhold.
 

Mom applauded her from the boulder.

"Climb on." I called back, carefully playing out a bite of rope, ready to catch her if she fell.
 

The End

Acknowledgements

When I Knew You
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Carol Lassiter, the wisecracking, streetwise heroine of Matchbook, makes no apologies for where she is in life. Emotionally lost after her daughter Ella's alleged suicide, Carol went deep underground with no plans of resurfacing. But when a matchbook with a phone number scrawled inside is dropped into her "donations" box, Carol is plunged into a dangerous game of cat and mouse with a mystery man who dangles a dramatically different story of Ella's death. But could he have a more sinister agenda? Carol wanders the underbelly of the city in search of the truth until Ella's secrets catch up with her and she must question her tenuous sanity.
 

Set on the streets of San Antonio, Matchbook is a compelling psychological mystery, as witty and entertaining as it is gripping.
 

"...the author's voice is something special here--direct, fresh, and subversively humorous." -- Oliver Haslegrove at Little, Brown
 

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Acknowledgements

My deepest thanks to my BFF and tireless editor, Kimber Cockrill, who listened endlessly, helping me untangle this story from my brain. Much of her skill is woven within this novel, and I can't imagine writing it without her incredible insights throughout.

To my mother, Helen, who told me the story of her dear friend who suffered a TBI in a car accident they were both in so many years ago. Mom, I'm very grateful you were in the other seat that day.

To my father, Dick, who has been my writing champion for years and who read an early version of this novel, spotting areas that needed change. The reason there are troll dolls in this is because of you, Dad.

To my husband, Adam, who believes in me more than anyone. He is my top salesman and the best guy in the whole world. Seriously. Honey, I love you.

To my daughters, Mireya and Sierra. Mireya was the first person to read this story and sat up with me many a night, to talk about it, especially the big fight scene. You are a tough kid, Miri. Sierra is a writer too, and her incredibly compelling characters in her own novels inspire me to do a better job with mine. Look out world, she's going to keep you up all night reading.

To my fans. I'm blessed to have a chance to share a few hours with you. Thank you for taking part in this story filled journey.
 

Lastly to the dozens of indie and trad authors who have been so generous with their wisdom, experience, and guidance. I'm pretty sure there's a special place in heaven set aside for us where we can read, laugh, and tell stories.