Kerry

“How many more boxes?”

Jasper just showed up this morning, driving a large pickup truck. Apparently, Damian had mentioned we were moving me out and Bella in, and he offered to lend a hand. Very kind of him, but I have a suspicion his motivation may run a bit deeper than just kindness.

“I think just three from the bedroom,” I yell back at him.

Damian went ahead with a load, and Bella was quick to hop into his truck. She claimed that way she’d have her stuff packed up and ready to go when we got there with the last load, but I know she’s trying to get as much distance between her and Jas. Those two have some interesting chemistry going on.

Jasper, who is loading the back of his truck, plods past me into the house, where I am trying to decide which of my kitchen gadgets I need—given that there’s a fully equipped kitchen at home—and which ones I should probably leave behind for Bella. I finally decide to just bring my KitchenAid Pro, my baking pans, my measuring cups, and my favorite Santoku knife. If I find I am missing something, I can always buy it.

After seeing what Damian’s family had done a few days ago and the subsequent conversation he and I had after, I think I’ve finally wrapped my head around moving. Our financial arrangement will even allow me to pay down the car loan faster for my new Forester, which, by the way, is ready for pick up this afternoon.

I’ve tossed what I need from the kitchen into my last box and hand it, plus my KitchenAid, to Jasper when he’s finished loading the three other boxes.

The drive to Hermosa is only slightly uncomfortable; just because Jasper is asking some pretty detailed questions about Bella.

“You know, Jas,” I try gently. “Bella’s story is not mine to tell. I’m sure that when she decides to open up to you, you’ll have a better understanding of why she’s perhaps a bit distant in her approach.” He laughs out loud at that and the sound is warm and comfortable.

“I’m sorry, Kerry. You’re right, of course, if a bit distant is your euphemism for blatantly hostile.” I have to grin at that. She has been pretty asocial around Jasper in particular. “I just can’t quite get my head around that woman,” he muses out loud.

Jasper helps unload, and with Bella firmly locked in her bedroom, supposedly putting the last hand at packing her stuff, he leaves shortly after.

“Am I dropping you off at the dealership or do you want to unpack first?” Damian asks when he closes the front door. “I have to go into work for a bit this afternoon, but we can maybe do it tomorrow?”

“Hell, no. I want my wheels now.” I feel like a kid at Christmas. Besides, I want to pop into the store and see what needs to be done. I’m sure there are some things that I’ll have to pick up at the grocery store for the coffee shop, but I can probably do that tomorrow when I get some baking supplies.

Damian pulls me in his arms and puts his chin on top of my head. “I was just gonna welcome you home, but your mind is already gone again, isn’t it?”

I smile against his shirt. “I was just going over my mental checklist of things I’ll need for Monday. I might stop by the store just to check on things.”

“Just don’t lift anything heavy,” he cautions. “I’d better let Bella know we’re off.”

“I’ll go let her know,” I offer, lifting on my toes to give him a kiss.

Bella’s door is open a crack and I can see her sitting cross-legged on the floor, sifting through what looks like a box of pictures. Instead of barging in, I knock and her head swings around as she wipes her hand over her face. Yeah, she’s so not ready for anything. Too much is going on under the surface she isn’t sharing with anyone.

“Do you want to come along to pick up my new car?” I ask, pretending I don’t see her red-rimmed eyes.

“I’m actually almost done,” she says, closing the lid on the box. “I don’t have that much left, and it should all fit in my car easily, so I’ll probably head out myself, once I have it packed up.”

“I’d offer to help, but Damian would probably frown if I did any lifting. I can ask him, though?”

“I’ll be okay,” she smiles, “I’m actually excited about moving in there. It’s a great place. Good thing this house is also pretty awesome or else I can’t imagine you ever wanting to leave.”

“True,” I agree. “I had some decent incentive, though.”

“This decent incentive needs to get going,” Damian growls behind me as he climbs up the last few steps, coming to a stop right behind me. “How about I grab a few boxes on my way down, sis?” he says, already stepping into the room and hoisting two in his arms without waiting for an answer. Bella rolls her eyes, but a smile tugs at her mouth.

-

AN HOUR LATER, I AM the proud owner of a beautiful, shiny, Quartz Blue Pearl Subaru Forester. Damian, in true Gomez family fashion, rolls his eyes as I roll down the window, blast the radio, and zip out of the car lot. I throw a last glance at my rearview mirror, where I see him standing next to his dull Expedition, his hands in his pockets, watching me drive off with a smile on his face.

I’m almost disappointed when I pull into the parking lot behind the store. My new wheels drive like a dream and I want to keep going. I barely get out of the car when Bill Franklin steps out of his back door.

“About bloody time,” he half-yells across the parking lot, and I walk up to him with a smile on my face.

“I’m just popping in today, Bill. Monday things are back to usual. Thank God.”

“You can say that again,” he tries to sound stern, but the twinkle in his eyes spoils the effect. “I’m getting sick and tired of people running down my door, only to find out when you’re gonna be back. None of them even have the decency to walk out with some screws or a tape measure.” When I get close enough, he pulls me into a careful hug. “Missed your coffee, girl,” he grunts.

“Missed you too, Bill,” I answer with a smile before turning toward my door.

“Hey, wait,” he calls after me. “A woman’s stopped by three times already to drop something off for you. I offered to hold it for her, but she insisted she wanted to hand it over in person. Left you her number, I’ll quickly grab it. Hang on.” Two minutes later, Bill is back with a slip of paper. “Give her a call, will ya? Otherwise, I might have to start charging you for secretarial duties.” He turns away with a wink, but before I have a chance to stick my key in the lock, he calls out again. “Nine o’clock on the dot on Monday, girl. I’ll have a large latte with skim milk. Don’t want the wife to catch me cheating.”

I’m still chuckling as I push open the door and walk into the storage room. I love the smell of books. There’s something comforting about it. Only a few places carry the smell:  libraries and well-stocked bookstores. Flicking lights on as I go, I’m surprised at how dusty it’s gotten. My office still needs a new computer, something I’ll maybe ask Jasper about. Good thing I got my laptop back a few days ago, after Keith Blackfoot had his forensics guy have a look at it. They discovered an electronic tracer on my hard drive that I assured them I had never installed. It had taken Jasper about two minutes to get it off, but the rest of the day to make sure there weren’t any other surprises hidden on there. Damian said he figured Willoughs must’ve installed it when Luna caught him at my house. That’s how he managed to locate me.

A shiver crawls up my spine, and determinedly, I refocus my thoughts. I sit down at my desk and pick up the phone, dialing the number scribbled on the slip of paper Bill handed me.

“Hello?” A vaguely familiar woman’s voice answers after only two rings.

“Hi, this is Kerry from—”

“Kerry, yes.” The woman cuts me off before she rushes on to introduce herself, “It’s Jeannie? Jeannie Brooks?”

No wonder her name sounded familiar. She’s one of my best customers. “Oh, hi, Jeannie. I’m so sorry you found the door locked a few times. I apologize for the inconvenience. It’s a bit of a long story I’ll be happy to tell you over coffee when things settle down. I’ll be open again at regular hours starting Monday.”

“Actually,” she says hesitantly. “If you’ll be there for another ten minutes or so, I’d like to quickly drop in. I’m just at Walmart and can be there shortly.”

“Should be,” I tell her. “I planned to do a little tidying, so I should be here for a bit, you can just come to the back door. My neighbor mentioned you had something to give me?” I can’t hold back the curiosity.

“It’s actually the weirdest thing,” she explains. “My husband and son were working near the creek, along the far side of our property, when our boy spotted a box in the brush. It was my husband who spotted your name. Anyway,” she continues, oblivious to the shocked silence on my side. “I’ve had it in my car for over a week and want to get rid of it.”

“O...okay,” is all my brain allows me to say. It’s too busy trying to connect the dots. I’m afraid to even think of the possibility.

Five minutes later, I’m still sitting at my desk, staring blindly at the piece of paper with Jeannie’s number in my hand. What are the odds? Before I recognize what I’m doing, I’ve dug my cell phone out of my purse and hit the preset for Damian’s number.

“Gypsy,” his familiar voice comes over the phone, instantly calming the chaos in my head. I can hear people talking in the background but focus on his sound alone.

“I think I know where the books are,” I say, stating what I was afraid to give voice to just seconds ago. It’s too bizarre a coincidence.

“What?” he blurts, sounding like he is covering the phone with his hand to block out the sound. “Say again?”

“I know where the box is,” I repeat, this time a little more confidently.

“Talk to me,” he orders, and I do.

I tell him about Bill and the phone number, and then I tell him about Jeannie and what she had to say. “She’s on her way here now. She’s had the box in her trunk all this time,” I giggle nervously.

“Kerry.” His stern tone pulls me back from the brink of hysteria. “I’m at a crime scene in the mountains just north of the city. My whole team is, Keith called us in. I’ll try to get to you as soon as I can, but in the meantime, don’t open the box in front of Jeannie. Just take the box, thank her, and lock the door behind her. Sit tight, babe. I’m heading out.”

As soon as he hangs up, I get the shivers. I know it’s just a box of books, but all I can think of is twenty-six million dollars and the people who’ve gotten hurt and even died over it.

I jump up at the sound of a knock at the back door and race to open it. Jeannie is standing on the other side, a bruised and dented box in her hands. As instructed, I don’t invite her in but awkwardly accept the box she holds out.

“Thanks so much for dropping it off, Jeannie. And I apologize again for any inconvenience. Coffee is on the house from now on.” I smile at her, but all I can feel is a muscle twitching in my cheek.

“No problem, Kerry, it was on my way. I’d better head home and get dinner on the table. I’ll be in on Monday or Tuesday, I’ve run out of reading material.”

Somehow I manage to thank her again and tell her I’ll see her next week. I wait for her to close the door behind her before I turn around, walk over to the packing table, and dump the heavy box on top, immediately taking a step back. It’s tempting to open that box and have a look, but I’m terrified I’ll mess something up. Instead, I head back to the door to lock it.

My hands are shaking so hard, I can’t even manage to get the lock turned. Next thing I know, I’m flying back as the door is shoved open suddenly and slam my back into the shelving unit. The knock to my already-injured ribs takes my breath away. It takes me a second to catch my bearings.

DAMIAN

I only take a second to explain the situation in shorthand version to Luna, who is closest by. Trusting that she’ll find Blackfoot and inform him, I jog to my car and rush down the mountain. The thought of Kerry with that blasted box makes me inexplicably nervous. As far as we know, aside from the missing books, the case was tied up neatly with only some of the staff at The Gilded Feather facing trial and jail time. The other players are dead. There is no reason to worry, is there?

I see Kerry’s new car parked in the back parking among a handful or so of other cars, including Bill’s cargo van. There is no sign of anything out of order, but still I approach the back door carefully, my sidearm in hand and slowly turn the knob.

It takes me a minute to register what it is I’m looking at. Kerry is sitting on the floor beside the packing table, glaring furiously at the woman holding a gun against her head. I want to yell but am afraid that doing so might startle her, and that’s the last fucking thing I want to do when she has her finger on the trigger.

“Come in, Agent Gomez, and I suggest you drop your gun,” she coaxes, having clearly picked up on my presence. “I’d know your nauseating scent anywhere.”

“It’s called shower gel, Ella,” I shoot back at the Interpol operative I thought had long returned home to the UK. “Couldn’t quite give up on the money, could you?” I taunt her, hoping to lure her gun away from Kerry’s head, but instead she presses the barrel right at the top of Kerry’s shoulder. At this angle, the shot would not kill her but certainly destroy her shoulder joint and part, if not all, of her arm.

“Drop the weapon and carefully kick it over here, or I will happily dismember Ms. Emerson limb by limb,” she grinds out. I have no reason to disbelieve her. After all, she’s got nothing to lose at this point. Grudgingly, I drop my weapon and kick it over, watching her as she carefully bends down to grab it, her gun hand barely shifting position.

“I’m surprised you got here that fast, you must’ve been camping out in the dumpster out back,” I poke at her again, as she places my gun on a shelf above her head, and finally I get a reaction.

“And you never spotted me, you self-righteous prick,” Ella spits out as she swings around to face me, the gun now pointing at me. It doesn’t feel good, but at least it is better than having it pointed at Kerry. I try not to think of the Kevlar vest I left in the truck as Ella continues on her rant. I only partially listen, I’m too focused on the familiar gray eyes full of trust now turned to me, as I try to keep an ear on any sounds from outside. 

“Like a true hero, you were so busy protecting your girl, you never even noticed I’ve been camped outside this entire time, watching and waiting. Of course, I was smart enough to switch rentals every few days to avoid garnering suspicion, but a decent investigator would have noticed.” She smirks when she sees me unable to hold in a wince. “You didn’t think every effort would be made to retrieve something so valuable, did you? It was days and days of dedicated surveillance that finally paid off when that woman arrived; carrying a box suspiciously similar to the one your stupid girlfriend here lost.” I shift when I think she’s going to turn back to Kerry, and just that easily, her eyes find their focus on me again. “So many utterly stupid moves. I barely had the patience to sit through those bumbling task force meetings. The incompetence was painful to witness,” she haughtily spouts. “It’s unfortunate that Troy became more of a liability than he was an asset when he took that woman. I knew what had to happen the moment I discovered he obviously botched up with the store clerk. At that point, he simply became collateral damage.” I see Kerry wince at the callous way she describes her friend and the cold-blooded murder of Sinclair.

“It was actually quite amusing how predictable your reactions were to the breadcrumbs I left behind,” she jabs again, gloating in the knowledge she bested us. “Which brings us to Mr. Willoughs.” She sighs as if disappointed. “As much as I would’ve preferred to keep that particular customer happy, he became more valuable as an easy target. A useful distraction, if you will. Not hard to manipulate and quite mad, actually.” I can’t help but think the man was clearly not alone, but the pale blue eyes of the woman staring back at me are anything but deranged. They are ice-cold and calculating.

“Why would you risk coming back, though?” I interject, hoping to keep her talking to buy time, while simultaneously finding out as much as I can. “We’ve all but closed the case, leaving responsibility square on the shoulders of your dead compatriots. Why would you chance it?” I watch as a small, triumphant smile ghosts over her face. Fucking megalomaniac.

“Do you know what’s better than twenty-six million, Agent Gomez?” she asks with a raised eyebrow, before going on to answer the question herself. “Fifty-two million—that’s what,” she declares without apology. “There is a private collector very interested in the wares, it’ll be an easy sale, doubling the money poor Mr. Willoughs already handed over. That kind of money makes it possible to disappear to places you can’t be found, unless you want to.”

I try not to let my eyes flick to Kerry, who Ella seems to have forgotten all about. I’m not about to draw attention to her again. The woman is so incredibly narcissistic, she seems to revel in the captive audience I provide and continues her self-serving bluster.

“I was never far away, Agent Gomez. Simply waiting for the heat to die down and opportunity to knock. A chance to ensure my future—” She motions to the opened box on the packing table. “And here I am, provided with an opportunity to settle an unresolved personal matter.” At this, she points the gun directly at the center of my chest, and her voice lowers threateningly. “It’s never a good idea to dress down a woman in public, Agent Gomez. That’s something a woman never forgets—or forgives. You humiliated me, cost me my job, and took away my ability to build on this lucrative sideline I spent years developing.”

I’ve been slowly moving, while letting Ella rant uninterrupted. So wrapped up in her little fist pump performance, she doesn’t notice that her body is now almost between Kerry and me. My intent was simply to get Kerry out of the line of fire, but Kerry appears to have different plans.

I try to keep a straight face as I spot her in my peripheral vision, reaching over and carefully picking up a book from the table. Everything in me wants to shake my head to warn her off, but with Ella’s eyes intently focused on my every move, there’s no way I can risk it.

I faintly hear movement outside of the door and keep a close eye on the former task force member, but she doesn’t seem to hear it and instead carelessly shrugs her shoulders. “Pity—but I’m sure the sweet memory of putting a bullet through your heart will make my loss a lot more bearable.”

Time seems to slow down as I watch her finger tighten around the trigger. I’m so focused on Ella’s hand, I don’t notice Kerry move until a book comes flying up, hitting Ella’s wrist. The sound of a gunshot in such a small space is loud. Loud enough to momentarily stun your senses. Perhaps that’s why I don’t feel the impact until I hear Kerry scream.