15

Rose


Of all the insanity I’ve faced, being thrown in prison has never been an issue. Worse, I’ve roped my young cohort into it. I envision Rae and I cohabitating in a dusty cell, complete with a hole in the ground in place of a toilet.

My God. The horror.

I turn my head to Rae, sitting beside me at the battered metal table. At least we’re not chained.

What have I done? I have to get this poor girl out of this. I lift my chin, conjuring my best acting skills. “Don’t you worry, my dear. I’ll get this all straightened out.”

“I’m not worried,” she says.

I study her for a moment. Her tilted head, her relaxed mouth and shoulders. Can it be? She’s sitting in an interrogation room in a place where neither of us has any support system and she appears calm as can be.

It fortifies my resolve, reminds me who I am and how far my contacts extend. “I like your attitude,” I say. “As soon as they come in here, I’ll tell them we want our phone call and I’ll have Phillip do his thing.”

My son won’t be happy, but he’s his father’s child. He’ll know what to do. Fix first, lecture later.

The interrogation room door opens and a tall, lean man carrying a folder steps in. His leathered, dark skin sags at his cheeks—years in the sun will do that. His mustache is more gray than brown. His hair is cut short, military style, giving him the no-nonsense feel of a man in charge.

Somehow, I don’t think he’s a patrol officer.

He closes the door and reaches a hand to me and then my young friend. “Ladies, I’m Superintendent Ernesto Guerrero.”

Thank goodness he speaks English and I won’t have to stumble through an entire conversation in Spanish. I’m too rusty for that and stress isn’t helping.

“Hello. I’m Rose Trudeau. This is my friend RaeLynn.”

Geurrero drags the chair across from us away from the table. The screech of metal legs against tile shatters the few healthy nerves I have left, but I lift my chin and prepare for whatever will come next.

He eases into the chair and nods. “Yes. I know. It’s been some time since you’ve visited, Mrs. Trudeau.”

I’m not sure where he’s going with this, so I do the wise thing and agree. “It has.”

“I’m sorry.”

He’s apologizing.

To us.

I assume this must be a trick. His way of softening up the old lady and her naive companion. Clearly, he doesn’t know me. “For?”

He shrugs. “The Grande. Your experience. It’s…” He purses his lips and squints at me, clearly trying to choose the correct words. Whether this is due to the language barrier or legalities, I’m not sure.

“Tragic,” he says. “Years later and there’s still so much pain.”

His attention moves to RaeLynn. “Ms. Demming.”

Rae straightens up and nods. “Yes, sir.”

“You’re a reporter?”

Uh-oh.

“I am.”

“I can only assume, after all this time, you’re the reason Mrs. Trudeau has come.”

Rae peers at me for a second, then turns her attention back to Guerrero. “Yes, sir. I’m working on a story about the Grande.”

“Have you no shame?”

For a second, the room is silent, the tension filling it like a flash flood.

Rae cocks her head. “I’m sorry?”

He gestures to me. “Using this woman, at her age.”

What? First of all, no one uses me. Second, I don’t appreciate him treating me as if I were decrepit. Particularly since he’s not all that much younger than I am. I lean in. “You cannot be serious. Do I look frail to you? And frankly, it was my idea to come here. My dearest friend died in that fire and, as you say, after all these years, there’s still so much hurt. And no answers.”

He meets my eyes, his dark gaze direct. Good. My intended dig about his department’s failure to solve this case hit its mark.

“I was there that day,” he says. “One of the detectives on scene.”

I sit back, raise one hand. “And now you’re in charge. Congratulations.”

Under the table, Rae kicks me.

Kicks me.

“Sir,” she says, “we’re not here to make trouble. We thought a visit to the site might help Mrs. Trudeau remember some details. Perhaps we can help. This is a cold case.”

At this, the corner of his mouth quirks. “You want to solve this crime? A housewife and an inexperienced reporter?”

The tiny hairs on the back of my neck dance and I level a hard stare at him. What is it with the La Paradisio police department? Every member so far needs sensitivity training.

And, right now, he’s messing with the wrong housewife.

“You know,” I say, “insulting us won’t play well in the American press. Imagine what the State Department will say when they find out we’ve been detained for walking onto property that wasn’t properly secured.”

Already my mind is churning. Spitting out names of senators and congressmen I’ve helped get elected. After throwing an epic fundraiser that helped put Jackson Harlan in the White House thirty years ago, I’ve developed enough political chops to start my own super PAC. An odd burst of energy whips inside me. I do love power plays.

“Mrs. Trudeau, you make threats?”

Hardly. I point at the file. “If you’ve done your research, you’ll know I have friends. Important ones. They owe me. And, after all, La Paradisio is a territory of the United States.”

He shrugs as if conceding the point. Well, good for him.

Beside me, Rae clears her throat. “Sir, are you arresting us?”

Ignoring her, he remains focused on me. Oh, yes. He understands this situation quite well. I lift my chin again. Smug won’t help us, but this is more than that. This fire inside me is Rose—the Rose—coming back to life.

Lord, it feels good.

I give him my best Ice Queen stare. Simon liked to say it could slay dragons. “You strike me as a smart man, Geurrero. Last I heard, Player Wright plans on shooting his latest blockbuster here. Coincidentally, I ran into him the other night. It would be a shame if he happened to move his production somewhere else. All that lost revenue…”

At this he laughs. A big, hearty bark that somehow doesn’t annoy me. He gets it. More than that, he respects my gumption.

Even if he hates it.

“You’re…” he searches for the word.

“A badass?” Rae offers. “She sure is.”

My young friend seems impressed.

Guerrero pushes back from the table and lifts the folder, smacking it against the air. “You’re free to go. I expect, while you’re on my island, you’ll respect our laws.”

Oh, please.

“Stay away from the Grande,” he continues. “It’s dangerous. Enjoy your stay.”