The narrow streets of Jaca were crowded and noisy. It seemed the entire town had come out to celebrate. There was a loud band on a makeshift stage that alternated playing Spanish folk songs and contemporary hits, but no matter what music they blared, the crowd joyously danced.
The cast and crew pressed up against me, almost in a protective manner. The heat of the day had passed, but the cement and the crowd still pulsed with fire and I felt nauseous. I regretted letting Becca talk me into the fiestas.
The crowd was dressed in the traditional white fiestas outfits with red sashes and bandanas, some wore red boinas, too. Kyle had pulled one of his magic tricks and had produced white outfits for the group. I’d refused to change into the transparent white dress he selected for me, so in essence he wasn’t speaking to me. He occupied himself with DeeCee and Daisy, showering them with attention like it was going out of style.
They were dressed in matching outfits; white short-shorts that left little to the imagination and halter tops so clingy and revealing that no one would forget their team name, Double D.
Victoria had attached herself to Cooper, who seemed happy to let her stick to him like a second skin. Her brother, Parker, chatted amicably with the mother-and-son team, Helen and Eric. While Todd seemed to sulk by himself.
Most of the cast was drunk on red wine and when the band played the chicken dance, they went wild, jostling up against me and driving me crazy. My nerves were so on edge that each time someone bumped into me, my skin crawled.
“How long are we going to be out here?” I asked Becca.
She pinched my cheek. “Cheer up, monkey. Aren’t you having a good time?”
“I have a headache. The music is too loud,” I said.
Daisy shook her behind in front of me and screamed. “Shake a tail feather, Georgia!”
I moved away from her, not able to get Annalise out of my mind. Juan Jose, one of our local crew members, was near me. I asked him, “Juan Jose. Did you know Annalise? The woman who was killed in the woods.”
He stiffened. “No. I did not know her. She was ETA, why would I know her? I hate ETA and their Molotov cocktails and their bombings and their killings!” His face grew red. “They are savages!”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s only that—”
DeeCee grabbed Juan Jose’s arm. “I heard there’s going to be fireworks!”
Miguel, our other local crew member, pointed toward a grassy mound in the distance and suddenly the cast began to peel off in different directions.
Which was entirely fine with me.
Just as I was enjoying the breathing space, a raucous Spaniard danced right into me, spilling his wine on my shirt. He assailed me with a fast string of Spanish, which I assumed was an apology. I held up my arms and tried to wave him off, indicating I didn’t speak Spanish and I hadn’t been hurt when he boogied into me. He grabbed my wrist and spun me around, undeterred.
“¡Olé guapa!” he yelled.
The music kicked into another folk song and soon everyone was bouncing around in a dance I didn’t know.
The man was my age and had such a disarming smile that I felt guilty disentangling myself from him. I glanced over to grab Becca, only to realize she’d been swooped up by another overly eager gentleman.
Under different circumstances, I would have loved these fiestas; these beautiful friendly Spaniards in their bright white outfits, everyone offering each other a “hail fellow well met,” but as it was, the sadness that had rooted itself into my heart since Scott left now throbbed. I stepped away from the crowd and rounded the corner, looking for a little quiet space to catch my breath.
On the first street, there was still a throng of people dancing and heading toward the music in the plaza.
I walked further down the narrow cobblestone path and noticed there were less people now. In a doorway, I spotted a couple locked in an embrace and then another couple passed me on their way toward the square to dance. I turned the next corner, hoping to get a bit further away from the crowd, when I saw a familiar pair.
Todd and Parker were in a huddle, heads bowed together, obviously discussing something serious.
Goosebumps grew on my arm.
What were they discussing so urgently?
I approached them. “Hey guys.”
They bristled, suddenly growing quiet.
“Oh, hi, Georgia,” Parker said.
“What are you guys doing here, off by yourselves?” I asked. Hey, I’d once been on the police force, being direct had never been a problem for me.
Todd leveled his eyes at me. “We’re discussing strategy.”
Apparently, Todd didn’t have a problem being direct, either.
Parker made a face, as if he didn’t agree with Todd sharing their secret. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Parker press a finger to his lips to silence Todd.
“What kind of strategy?” I asked.
Todd glared at me. “How to win the show, obviously.”
An uncomfortable sensation snaked around my belly. There was a lot of money at stake on the show.
How far would someone go to make sure he or she won?
“You’re not even on the same team,” I said. “Are you guys colluding?”
“You’re one to talk,” Todd said.
Before I could respond, Parker asked, “You’re in tight with the producers, huh? Is that why you’re still here?”
I squinted at him. “What do you mean?”
Parker shrugged. “Your boyfriend’s gone missing. I figured a thing like that might make you quit the show.”
A chill rushed up my spine.
“How are you going to do the show without a partner?” Todd asked.
Oh, no!
Just wait until they realized that my new partner, my dad, was dating the executive producer. Sparks were going to fly.
Before I could reply, Parker asked, “Do you know what the challenge is going to be tomorrow?”
“I’m not privy to that information,” I said. “It’s against the rules for them to share what the challenges are with anyone.”
“Pfft, yeah right,” Todd said. “You’re bunking with one of the producers and I heard you two go way back.” The look on his face turned angry and trepidation filled my chest.
“Becca won’t tell me anything. It would cost her her job,” I said.
Parker leaned in close to me. “It could cost you something worse.” His jaw tightened and his hand balled into a fist.
My pulse quickened.
“What exactly are you saying?” I demanded.
Even as the words tumbled out of my mouth, I regretted confronting him. We were alone now. It was me against these two large men. If things got ugly, I didn’t stand a chance.
Todd laughed in my face, his breath reeked of stale wine. “I think you do know what the challenge is,” Todd said. “And I think you better tell us right now.”
Parker shifted, almost imperceptibly, but I feared he was about to block my exit.
My heart raced as I dove to my left knee and executed a right thrust kick into Todd’s thigh. He buckled over and collided into Parker, as I sidestepped him.
“Georgia!” someone called. I looked in the direction of the voice and was glad to see Sergio approaching.
Parker and Todd froze against each other, awkwardly caught in a man hug.
Sergio neared our strange little group. “Hello! I got your message, you wanted to talk to me?”
Parker and Todd disentangled themselves, swearing under their breath.
I gave them an over-the-top smile. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I’ll leave you to each other.” I jogged toward Sergio. “Is there somewhere private we can talk?”
Sergio glanced in Parker and Todd’s direction, but he said nothing, only offered me his arm. The gesture wasn’t very coplike, but I linked my arm through his and found comfort in his steady gait.
He was dressed like most of the Spaniards out tonight, in all white with a red sash around his waist and a red bandana around his neck. I suddenly felt bad, he was supposed to be off duty, having fun with friends or a girlfriend at the fiestas, and instead he was escorting me away from drama.
“Have you been to the plaza yet?” he asked.
“Where the band and dancing is?” I asked.
He smiled. “Yes.”
“I was there earlier, but I’m not in the mood for dancing right now.”
“I’ll take you someplace a little more quiet,” he said. “My favorite place, actually.”
We strolled up the narrow windy street, my heels clicking on the cobblestones. The street bottomed out into a square flanked with small shops. In the center was a large fountain. The square was busy, with groups of people drinking red wine and singing. A teenage couple was passionately making out by the center fountain.
I envied the couple for a moment. Not only did they have each other, but it also seemed like they didn’t have a care in the world.
“Is that a wishing fountain?” I asked.
“Any fountain is a wishing fountain, no?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. He handed it to me, but I pushed it back at him.
“At this point, I’m so confused I wouldn’t know what to wish for,” I said.
He cocked his head to the side and shrugged, tossing the coin into the fountain. “No problem. I do.”
Ahead there was a mass of people moving toward the grassy mound, presumably to watch the fireworks. I hesitated. Sergio noticed and tightened his grip. “It’s okay, trust me.”
I clung to his arm as he pulled me through the sea of people. As we jostled our way through the crowd, red wine stains peppered my shirt and pants. Sergio’s clothes on the other hand were pristine.
“How do you do that?” I demanded.
“Pull you through a crowd?” he asked.
“No, keep your white clothes clean.”
He looked down at himself and shrugged. “Practice.”
We turned down another block, this one deserted, and in the distance a small church with an octagonal tower was visible. It was illuminated by outdoor lighting and it seemed to glow.
I gasped. “Oh, my! It’s beautiful.”
Sergio smiled. “Eleventh century. Romanesque church. It’s quiet here, too. Look, no one. And we’ll have a nice view of the fireworks.”
We sat on the stone steps, in time for a first burst of red light into the night sky. Little squiggles of multicolored light zagged away from the main ball and for the first time in a long while I felt my shoulders relax.
Another burst of fire lit up the sky, this one green, accompanied by classical music. I clapped a hand over my heart. The music boomed from nearby speakers and I looked up toward the octagonal tower.
Sergio laughed. “It’s marvelous, no? This is one of my favorite music pieces, Nights in the Gardens of Spain.”
The fireworks seemed to accompany the music perfectly, filling the night sky in time with every swell in the music.
We listened and watched the show in silence. After a while, Sergio touched my cheek. I turned toward him surprised by the feeling of intimacy between us.
Sergio asked, “What did you want to tell me, Georgia?”
My mouth went dry. I’d wanted to tell him about Scott’s email, but instead I said, “Annalise. Did you know she was part of ETA?”
He quirked an eyebrow at me. “You know about ETA?”
“A little, only what I got off the Internet.”
He shrugged. “We’re looking into her background.”
“Do you know that one of the ladies on the show, Victoria, studied in Bilbao? I saw photos of her wearing a shirt with the ETA logo.” Even as I said it, it sounded like a flimsy distraction.
Oh, please, look into that girl and charge her with murder, because I saw a picture on Facebook. Don’t worry about the guy whose watch was found at the scene of the crime!
“Hmmm.” Sergio stroked his chin. “Victoria told me about that. I didn’t find anything unusual in her travels to Spain.”
“But—”
“In America do you arrest someone for what shirt they wear?”
“No, of course not. It’s just that—”
“What happened with you and those two men before you came with me?” he asked.
“Todd and Parker?” I shrugged. “It was nothing really. They think I have an inside track on the show because my friend is one of the producers. They’re angry about that.”
Sergio leaned back to rest on his elbows. “Did you know Todd has a criminal record?”
My breath caught.
I tried not to show my excitement—it would come across as crass—but if someone had a criminal record, a cop always thought they were good for the crime. So, if Sergio liked Todd for the murder, he might loosen the chokehold on Scott. Especially, since he’d barely blinked at Victoria’s ETA ties.
“What was he convicted for?” I asked.
“Drugs.”
“Drugs? What kind? Marijuana? Coke? Heroine?” Although Todd hadn’t struck me as an addict, it didn’t mean he hadn’t been busted for possession, maybe on his way to negotiate something nefarious.
“Marijuana and hashish possession, cultivation with intent to sell.”
I mulled the information over. Just because Todd had been arrested for growing pot, it didn’t mean he was a murderer. On the other hand, I knew what Sergio would think—a criminal was usually guilty in a cop’s mind until proven innocent. I could steer him into looking at Todd more closely, based on cops’ biases, but that didn’t make it right.
“Do you have anything else? Anything on Cooper or the girls, DeeCee and Daisy?”
Sergio nodded. “I’m not supposed to tell you these things, you know.”
I leaned back on my elbows, suddenly our faces were dangerously close. The flash from the fireworks illuminated Sergio’s dark eyes, and nerves shot through my stomach. He touched my cheek and we were suspended in time.
Heat surged between us, transferring only from his finger on my check, but igniting my entire body.
For a brief second, I let myself imagine that I wasn’t discussing a murder case with another cop, but that I was someone else entirely.
A girl in a movie, maybe, about to kiss the leading man.
I sat up. Jolting myself out of whatever romantic reverie I’d just been in. Sergio let out a slow exhale, accompanied by a little sigh, presumably of disappointment.
After a moment, he said, “Cooper got caught with a prostitute, but charges were dropped.”
“That type of thing isn’t uncommon for an NFL star,” I said.
He shrugged. “Love can make men do crazy things.”
The weight I’d been carrying all day seemed too heavy now. I sighed. “My father arrived in Spain today. He had news from Scott.”
Sergio sat up straight. “Where is he? We must interview him as soon as possible.”
“Dad? He’s staying at the B&B—”
“No, no. Scott. Where is he? Do you know? Did he tell your father?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know where he is. Only . . . that . . .”
Sergio waited for me to continue. The fireworks show was nearly at a crescendo—the finale. And my mind somehow associated it with the finality of Scott’s email.
“He broke up with me, Sergio. Said he walked off the set, because he didn’t really want to do the show and he didn’t want to continue a relationship with me.”
He frowned. “Is it typical for Americans to break up by sending an email?”
“It’s not typical, no, not if you have any class,” I said. But then what was typical? Leaving your bride at the altar?
Maybe it’s me. Guys can’t face me when they’ve lost the loving feeling.
“Do you believe the email was from him, Georgia?” he asked.
I shook my shoulders. “I suppose so. How would I know?”
Sergio laid a warm hand on my shoulder. “Our technical team may be able to track him from it. Can you get me a copy of the email?”
I nodded.
“You still love him?” Sergio asked.
What had prompted the question, I wondered.
I swallowed, the emotion building in my throat. “Yes.”
He turned his face toward the repeated spherical blasts of colored balls that filled the night sky. The music drifted off as the last burst of fireworks left a visible trail of red sparks.
Then nothing.
The sky was dark again and the only sound was my breathing.
“Some men don’t know how lucky they are,” Sergio said.