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Petra looked at the enormous sapphire, surrounded by small diamonds in a white gold setting that Mike had given her when they got engaged, as she and Riley walked out of the building.
Petra had so many emotions swirling around inside her, most of them anger and sadness about Mike, but there was a sense of relief too. As though somewhere inside, way down where she didn’t look, where she kept her feelings about her parents, she had known Mike wasn’t meant to be her soul mate. Sure, he was hot, and rich, but he was smug, elitist, and rude to wait staff. That sort of thing never boded well.
He’d been so kind at the start. With her parents being out of the picture and feeling lost, she had basked in the attention of an attractive, attentive man. Slowly he’d revealed himself to be shallow, manipulative, and dismissive of her needs, but he always had an excuse—work was stressful, he hadn’t meant it, or he would promise to be better next time. Maddy said she was loyal to a fault. Maybe this is what she meant.
“I don’t have a spare helmet,” Riley said as they stopped by her motorbike on the pavement. “You’ll have to wear mine.”
“No, that’s okay. I don’t want to put you out. I asked for the lift.”
“I insist. My bike, my rules.” Riley’s face set in her not-in-the-mood-for–arguing expression.
“Okay.” Petra pulled the long, acrylic hairpin out of her bun so the helmet would sit properly. She shook out her hair and tucked it into the collar of her blazer so it wouldn’t whip around and blind her or Riley.
Riley straddled the bike. Her well-muscled thighs looked so powerful as she held it steady so Petra could climb on behind. She had ridden like this a few times before, though usually when they traveled anywhere together Maddy and Jen would be there and take a car.
Riley started the engine and the bike vibrated.
She tried to maintain a respectful gap between her groin and Riley’s behind, but as soon as they rolled over the curb onto the road, she slipped forward and found herself pressed against Riley. Something about the warm, powerful curves stirred a feeling in Petra’s groin she hadn’t experienced for a while.
Stop it, she’s like your sister. She tried to shift back up the bike’s seat.
“Keep still,” Riley said, turning her head a little so she could keep her eyes on the road while talking to her.
“Sorry.” Petra stopped fidgeting and tried not to think about what, or who, was between her legs. Best not to distract the driver when she was wearing Riley’s only helmet.
Mike’s office building was on the edge of Pinnacle Plaza, near the business district—a tall glass office building, one of the newest in San Destino, he had told her with pride.
Riley pulled the bike up onto the pavement, and turned off the motor before they both dismounted.
“Do I have helmet hair?” Petra pulled her head free and handed the helmet back to Riley.
“You look fantastic, as you always do.” Riley put the helmet on the bike’s seat, and when she turned back, her face was serious again. “You don’t have to do anything rash. I know you’re upset, but you can take a day or two to consider things.”
Petra looked down at the ring again and pulled it off her finger. “I don’t need to think about it. I’m not sad to end things, I’m upset because I was so blind. So caught up in the fiction of our happily ever after that I brushed everything wrong with Mike away. He’s a dick, he’s always been that way, and I’d rather be single than stuck with him till death do us part.”
Riley smiled. “You’ve always been strong. I admire that about you. I know you’re hurting now, but I think it’s the right decision. Not that my opinion matters, I’m just—”
“You’re a good friend. Thank you for the ride. I know it was out of your way.” Petra hugged Riley, pulling her close and feeling the firmness of her body against her own. She lingered for a little too long and had to force herself to let go. “You have to get to work.”
“Yes. Text me how it went. So I know not to worry.”
“You don’t have to be my mom too. You have enough to take care of with your own family as it is.”
“Can’t help it.” Riley’s cheeks reddened and she looked away.
“Ride safe,” Petra said, as Riley mounted the bike and started it up.
Riley pushed the helmet on, nodded, and took off down the street toward Stonehaven and the police station.
Now she was alone, Petra worried she’d chicken out of what she’d come to do...until she looked up and saw Cindy walking toward her carrying several of those enormous, expensive coffees Mike and his finance buddies loved.
“Hey Cindy,” she said, walking toward the slim blonde woman.
“Oh... hey.” Cindy frowned.
“It’s Petra, you know, Mike’s fiancée.”
“Of course, sorry. Your face was familiar, but I couldn’t place you.”
“All good.”
“Are you coming up? The guys are in meetings all day. That’s why I got sent out for these.” She waved the coffees in Petra’s direction.
“Yeah, I need to have a word with Mike. As soon as possible.”
Cindy’s walk faltered for a moment. “Follow me, but I don’t think I’ll be able to convince him to come out.”
“Let’s see if I can persuade him.” That slimeball better speak to me after that obvious lie this morning. He should be groveling.
The two women rode the elevator in silence to the tenth floor. They were the largest hedge fund in San Destino, possibly one of the biggest in California, if Mike was to be believed. The doors opened onto the flashy chrome and frosted glass reception area, where Cindy usually worked, however, it had been left unattended while she went out for their beverages.
“Just wait here, please. I’ll see if Mike can see you.”
“Thanks.” Petra sat on an architecturally interesting black and chrome chair that wasn’t comfortable in the slightest.
Mike’s office had always given her the creeps, to the point where she couldn’t wait to leave. This time she would be leaving permanently, without the enormous engagement ring.
Several minutes later, Cindy came back out, her brow furrowed and her eyes tense. “Mike said he can’t see you today.”
Petra stood, taking time to make herself appear as calm yet furious as she could. “I know about you two. He probably didn’t mention that—”
Cindy opened her mouth, but Petra put her hand up to interrupt.
“My friend Riley, the police sergeant you encountered yesterday on the bridge, told me what she saw, and Mike was fool enough this morning to confirm it. Tell him he needs to see me right now, or I’ll have to give the message to you. Can you do that please?” Petra kept her voice low, quiet, and, she hoped, terrifying. Cindy deserved it, having known Mike was in a relationship.
“Um. Okay.” Cindy scurried back through the doors into the secret inner sanctum of the finance office.
Petra had never been beyond the reception area. She had avoided visiting Mike at work, and when she had, was never invited past the waiting area.
When Cindy returned, after a few minutes, she looked even paler than before. Her hands, with their absurdly long acrylic nails, were clasped in front of her so tightly her fingers had turned blue-white.
“He said he can’t come out.”
“I see.” Petra sighed, opened her hand, and held out the engagement ring. “Will you take this to him, please?”
Cindy nodded and took the ring, her mouth curled down in distaste.
“Tell him we’re done. I want nothing more to do with him. If he has any property of mine at his place, he can mail it to me. If I find anything of his, I’ll do the same. You can also tell him I think he’s a spineless, selfish, piece of shit and I hope he’s miserable.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he was engaged when it started, and then after I found out, he assured me you two were in the process of breaking up.”
“I really don’t care. Sleeping with your boss is a bad move no matter the situation.”
Petra turned to leave but thought better of it.
“You’re the sort of person he preys on. He’s got a lot of money, a flashy car, and nice clothes, but all of that is window dressing to cover the fact he’s a terrible person. He won’t be faithful to you either; a cheater is a cheater. If he promised you promotions or a career, he won’t follow through. He’s using you for sex. He doesn’t respect you.”
Cindy’s mouth worked up and down as she fumbled to formulate a response.
Petra turned back to the elevator and was annoyed to have to wait for it, while Cindy stood silently watching her.
Some dramatic exit this was.
Back on the pavement outside the shiny, glass office building, Petra suddenly felt very alone. She hadn’t been single for a long time. She’d started dating Mike five years ago. He proposed on their fourth anniversary as though it was just something they should do. She said yes because she couldn’t see any reason not to.
Since her parents moved away from San Destino, she had craved stability. Petra dated her high school sweetheart, Jared, from sophomore year until he graduated college and moved to Seattle for work.
She’d had a couple of dalliances between Jared and Mike, and Maddy once accused her of serial monogamy and when she met Mike, jumped into the relationship with him.
The things she’d found charming at first, his need for status, the desire to climb the corporate ladder, and his pathological need to impress his parents became more and more burdensome.
Her job wasn’t good enough for him—she was a freelance yoga teacher, which had no clear career progression, or the possibility of making huge piles of cash. Unambitious is what he’d said, but Petra knew he meant lazy.
Petra had lived with her frail grandmother after her parents left. The Holmes family stepped in to help, right when her nanna was coming to the end of her life. It all happened just before finals in junior year, that Petra discovered her other abilities.
Her grandmother couldn’t really talk, and when she did, it didn’t always make sense, but if Petra held her hand and concentrated, she could understand what Nanna said without hearing her speak the words.
Sometimes it came to her in images. For a while it was all jumbled, but Petra got better at it, maybe Nanna did too, and they found a way to have whole conversations without speaking.
Nanna died while Petra held her hand. They both knew it was time, and Petra concentrated hard on making her grandmother comfortable, speeding her to the other side, wherever that was. It didn’t seem like much, but she hoped it helped.
After that, the home asked her if she would help with the other patients who were confused, or found it hard to communicate. Petra would sit with them, hold their hand, and they would muddle their way through together until they figured out how to talk to one another. Each person was different, but in some ways, it was the same. Petra never explained it to anyone, and no one ever asked.
When Georgina Holmes had had her last stroke, a big one this time, Petra had to work especially hard to find the connection. It was like trying to untangle a mass of wires, the usual routes she took blocked off. It took a few weeks, but they got there in the end. By that time, Georgina was almost crying with frustration, her mouth refusing to form words, and if she did, they sounded meaningless.
Why was Petra thinking about Nanna, and Jared, and Georgina right now? Perhaps she was clinging to anything that might reassure her she wasn’t alone, that she was loved. But it didn’t help.
I’ll go and have a chat with a couple of the residents. It might be tiring, but at least it feels like I’m doing something important, instead of standing here, watching the world go past. It’s not like Mike will come out after me.
The thought Mike didn’t even care enough to chase her was equal parts humiliating and liberating. She’d made the right decision, even if it felt awful right now.
***
Riley arrived at the station feeling a little better, but still pretty crappy. Petra had forgiven her, but the fact remained she had caused her to break off her engagement.
No, Mike did that. Though, knowing it was true didn’t make her feel any better.
“Sherlock,” Watch Commander Ward said as she came out for roll call. A short, burly, ginger-haired man in his late forties, his pale skin had permanently reddened from being in the sun.
“Sir,” she said, nodding her head. She wished they had never come up with that nickname.
“You’ll be with a rookie today. We don’t have any training officers available.”
“I’m not a TO. You can’t put me with a rookie.” To her own ears she sounded whiny. It wasn’t her intention, but the fact remained she had never qualified as a TO, and it wasn’t fair, or safe, to put a rookie with her.
“That’s true, but you’ve sat the exam, and you got damn close. You have the knowledge, and I don’t have anyone else to keep an eye on this one.” Ward inclined his head to a short, petite man who didn’t look old enough to have completed basic training.
“And,” Ward said before Riley could make any further protests, “he’s had three weeks already with Simmons. He’s not as useless as he looks, are you, rookie?”
The rookie’s face reddened. At least Riley’s annoying nickname wasn’t based on her physical appearance, or her gender, which was a blessing.
“Yes, sir.”
“This is Officer Jason Bell. He’ll be assigned to a car with you today.”
Of course, rookies aren’t allowed on bikes. “Yes, sir,” she replied.
“Rookie, this is your TO, Sergeant Riley Holmes. Everyone calls her Sherlock.”
Riley tried not to grimace.
“Sergeant Holmes, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Bell held out his hand to shake hers. He was awkwardly formal, perhaps trying to make a good impression, despite his clear anxiety—hunched shoulders, arms folded around his torso as though for comfort, and barely taking his eyes off the floor.
“Alright, let’s get this show on the road.” Riley turned and walked toward the equipment bay to collect their weapons and other materials to stock the vehicle. It had been at least six months since she’d been in a car, and she’d never trained a rookie. She hoped this guy was sensible and wouldn’t put himself in harm’s way.
“And call me Holmes, or Riley, when we’re out today.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And no ma’am okay?”
“Uuh, okay.”
They did their start-of-shift checks, then Riley slid in behind the wheel of the police vehicle. She pulled into traffic and headed out to patrol. She was a beat cop and had been for years. For a while, she’d wanted to be a detective, but when her dad died, and then her mom got sick, it wasn’t worth the disruption to her hours to go for the promotion.
Detectives had crazy hours. At least on patrol, even with night shifts, she would have days at a time scheduled off and she would be able to care for her mom.
“Do you have a nickname yet?” Riley glanced briefly at her companion.
“I do, and I don’t like it any better than you like Sherlock.”
“I see.” Riley said nothing more and the pause stretched out. She knew how to use silence to create intimacy, or in this case, discomfort.
“It’s Tinkerbell.”
“Ah.” A play on both his name and his stature. That would definitely stick. Poor guy. “Damn. Mine is just the prototype for a great detective, so y’know, no pressure.” From the corner of her eye, Riley thought she saw Bell’s mouth twitch in a smile. The silence after that merged into something more comfortable.
Occasionally the radio burbled with calls, but none were for them, or in their area, so she just drove down to the waterfront and parked the car with a good view of the boutiques along the shopping strip at the end of Providence Pier.
When she’d driven past Destiny Bridge on the way in, Riley had been glad to see traffic flowing. The accident from the day before had all been cleared up.
The shift started at two that afternoon and ended at midnight. Their station ran three ten-hour shifts to cover morning, afternoon and night shift.
Riley liked it better than the twelve-hour shifts she’d had to do when she covered a few weeks in Los Angeles during the Superbowl. Working in LA had been intense. So many people, so many different areas, and even with a local partner, she’d felt useless and hokey.
Outside of San Destino there was a kind of dullness to the sound, as though she could never hear as clearly as she did at home. Riley didn’t believe the stories about psychic powers, or paranormal stuff happening in her home town, though most people did. She had chalked it up to local knowledge making her brain work more effectively, but it wasn’t a satisfactory answer.
“Have you ever had something weird happen on a shift?” Bell said, as though he’d been reading her mind. Or possibly she’d been reading his while he formulated the question.
“What sort of weird?”
“I’ve lived in San Destino my whole life and there have always been things that were hard to explain...”
“Yeah. I’ve had a few strange shifts. Nothing that crossed the realm of scientific possibility, but the sort of thing you would expect to happen once in a million, and then you see it like, three weeks in a row, y’know?”
“Oh, I meant like, objects moving when they shouldn’t or seeing a ghost.”
Riley laughed. “I’ve never had that happen.” She thought for a moment. “One time, when I was out on the bike, on my own, I was called to a vehicle collision. I was first on scene, a car t-boned by a pickup truck.
“The pickup driver and his passenger were a bit banged up, but generally okay. I told them to stay in the vehicle until the paramedics arrived, but the woman driving the car was in bad shape.” The scene had been hard to look at when she arrived.
“I was sure she was dead. No one could survive that, but I had to check. I reached in through the broken driver’s side window, felt for a pulse on the wrist—nothing, neck—nothing. I couldn’t do CPR, she was pretty...mangled. I just stood there till the paramedics arrived.”
“That sounds awful, but pretty standard so far.”
“I’m getting to it. The medics arrived, and we all went straight to the woman in the car. I told them I couldn’t find a pulse, and one of the paramedics said he’d check her again just in case.
“He pulled off his glove and laid his bare hand on her forehead for a full ten seconds, eyes closed. His mouth moved a little, but he didn’t say anything, I figured he’d said a prayer or something, you know, to send her off to wherever we go after we die—”
“And then what?” Bell interrupted.
Riley turned to look at her rookie and he sat forward in the passenger seat, eyes wide and eager. “He put the glove back on, and checked her neck again, and I swear to god this woman who was dead for a good five minutes came back to life.”
“No way!”
“I’m serious. She had no pulse and wasn’t breathing as far as I could tell, until this guy said a prayer over her, or whatever he did.”
“Did she make it?”
“They rushed her to hospital and she had a crushed leg, broken ribs, head trauma, the works. I didn’t expect she’d pull through, but then a few years later, I pulled over a decrepit looking blue sedan with only one taillight, and it was her.”
“No.”
“Yes. And she had recovered pretty well. Had some gnarly scars on her face, and she limped a little when I asked her out of the vehicle to do a field sobriety test.”
“A paramedic who brings people back from the dead. I would not have expected that.” Bell stared over the water, and Riley turned her attention back to watching the foot traffic and the shops.
“Most likely she wasn’t dead, just had a very weak pulse and shallow breathing. The paramedic’s touch probably did nothing, but that’s the weirdest thing I’ve seen on the job.”
“Right.”
Dispatch came over the radio a few times, but nothing for them to action. The boutique area late on a Friday afternoon was pretty slow, usually. Sometimes in the evening it livened up, some of the trendy bars were hot spots for underage drinking, and occasionally they needed help with security issues.
For a while, a purse snatcher had worked the bars, but in recent times it had stopped.
“Four-Adam-ten, come in.” A staticky female voice came over the radio.
“Four-Adam-ten, go ahead,” Riley responded into the radio.
“We’ve got a four-one-five in progress outside Bebidas. Can you attend?”
“Ten-four, show us responding.” Riley put the radio mic back onto its cradle and started up the car. Four-one-five was a disturbance, probably a drunk refusing to leave the area.
“It’s early for a drunk call,” Bell said.
“It might be something else.”
“It’s never anything else.” Bell’s voice was flat, and Riley glanced over.
“How can you be so young and yet so cynical?” She chuckled to herself. He would learn as he went through his training that the monotony of the job is what you looked forward to. The exciting stuff, that was dangerous.
A drunk who didn’t like the fact the bar had cut them off was a specific type of problem that she was equipped to handle, but when they had to respond to someone who was out of their mind of bath salts, or an altercation with a partner, or both, that stuff escalated very quickly.
Riley steered the police cruiser to the end of the pier and parked. As she and Bell exited the car, a shrill scream pierced the air. Incoherent, high-pitched, probably female.
The pier wasn’t too busy at this time of day, a few tourist-types perusing the market stalls, though they would be crawling later that night and on the weekend. A couple of old fellas fishing over one side, though their attention focused on the screaming match rather than their rods.
One stall holder smiled and nodded as they passed, as though to say he was glad someone with authority had arrived.
Outside the bar, which wouldn’t open until later that day, a tall, slim dark-haired woman engaged in a loud disagreement with a muscular, shirtless blond man.
“What are you trying to pull here?” the man yelled at the woman, whose back was to Riley and Bell.
“That money’s mine. I earned it,” the woman screamed back. Something in her voice sounded familiar to Riley.
“Great, now the pigs are involved,” the man said, as he spotted the two of them approaching.
“Is there a problem here?” Riley said. She and Bell stood on either side of the two having the fight, careful to stay out of grabbing or striking range, for the time being.
“What’re you doing here?” the woman said, turning to Riley. Her ex-girlfriend, Janice. Shit.
“No one wants you here Ri. Just fuck off home, okay?”
“I can’t do that.” Riley took half a step forward. “People are concerned about your safety, so we need to lower our voices and see if we can’t work things out.”
“You know her?” Bell asked.
“Long story.”
“Not really,” Janice said, her mouth contorted in an intoxicated sneer. “You’re a dud lay, and I dumped your ass.”
“You’re gay now, are you?” the man said.
“That’s not our concern right now.” Riley could feel this unraveling already. Janice had a history of drug and alcohol abuse, as well as a couple of arrests for prostitution. “The lady says you owe her money. Is that true?”
“No way. I never agreed to that.”
“And you, Janice, what’s your point of view?” Riley asked.
“It was a misunderstanding.”
“I see. Officer Bell, what’s your assessment of the situation?” Riley was curious to see whether Bell had come to the same conclusion she had, that this man was trying to get out of paying Janice for something, most likely drugs or sex.
“If you ask me, these two are very keen for us to be elsewhere, so whatever the money relates to, I suspect it’s not what they would want police to know about. My guess is that a sex act took place and the gentlemen is reneging on his end of the agreement.” Bell turned to Riley. “Do we have cause to search them?”
“Since they’re both saying there’s no problem, no. Take down this guy’s details, in case we need them later, I’ll have a word with Janice.”
Janice scrunched up her nose and stepped back. Riley put a hand on her shoulder and walked her along the pier, out of earshot of Bell. “Did he try to skip out on paying for your time?”
“It’s not like that,” Janice said, lighting a cigarette, her shoulders hunched. “He’s my boyfriend’s brother. I did a favor for him, delivered some items. One of the items is defective, according to the buyer, and he refused to pay for it, so now Dylan won’t pay for the delivery.”
“I see,” Riley said. It could be drugs, but it could be hot phones or anything, really. “How much does he owe you?”
“Seven hundred.”
“For one job? Jeez, you’re doing well.” The likelihood the deal was illegal increased given how much she was getting paid to be the courier. “Have you got the defective item?”
Janice looked at Riley, her eyes widening.
“I’ll take that as a yes. If we leave, will you be safe? Is Dylan going to hurt you if you give him the item back and forget about the money?”
“I’ll never work for him again, but he won’t beat me. You can go.”
“I’m taking your word for this, because I know you, Janice, and I don’t trust that guy at all. Maybe it’s better if you don’t work for him anymore.”
“I can take care of myself, thanks.” Janice folded her arms across her chest and pouted, anger simmering.
“I know you can. It was just a suggestion.” Riley glanced at Bell who made his way toward them, while the man headed back to the shore. “Do you still have my number?”
“Yeah, probably. Why?”
“If you ever want me to come and help you out if stuff gets... intense or whatever, call me, okay?”
“Sure, but now you’re a cop. Why would I trust you?”
Riley sighed. There were a lot of people who abused their power within law enforcement, and then there was all the systemic stuff on top of that making it hard for a lot of people to trust or feel safe around police. “I’m a human being first, police second. If you call me as a friend, I’ll come.”
Janice frowned, not convinced. “If I get in a jam, I’ll call.”
“Good.”
“He seems...pleasant,” Bell said.
“Did you get his details?” Riley asked.
“Yep. All here.” Bell tapped his small black notepad.
“Looks like everything is sorted for the moment. Want us to drop you off somewhere?” Riley turned to Janice.
“I need a ride in a cop car like I need a hole in the head. Thanks all the same.” At least Janice smiled as she said it, her posture straightening, and she seemed less jumpy now Dylan had left the vicinity.
Riley and Bell hung back on the boardwalk for a while, watching her walk away. Riley called in to dispatch to update them that the disturbance was resolved.
“So how do you know her?” Bell asked as they strolled back to the car.
Riley turned to him, her eyebrows raised. “You really want to know?”
“I’m curious. Cone of silence between partners, I swear.”
Riley sighed. They arrived at the car, and she put her hand on the roof, considering how much to tell him. “We dated in college.”
“Ah.” Bell’s eyes widened ever so slightly, though Riley dating women was one of the worst kept secrets in the station. “And was she in the same line of work?”
Riley laughed. “Not at all. She studied dance and literature, wanted to be a prima ballerina and write the next great American novel.
“She hit a rough patch after we broke up. I was in the academy and she wouldn’t speak to me, but I heard through mutual friends she had fallen a long way from her aspirations.”
“Why? What happened?”
“It’s not my story to tell. Suffice it to say, I’m not surprised things went the way they did. I feel for her. When I run into her, every so often, I try to be kind. She’s not a bad person.”