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Christa
Taryn glares at me. “It’s freezing out here. Why did you drag me hiking? You hate exercise.”
“It’s not freezing, you baby. Maybe if you had some more meat on your bones.” I pinch her thigh through her yoga pants.
“You should talk. You’ve lost too much weight,” she comments as we trek up another stretch of rock. She wears a Columbia jacket I’m sure she’ll be shedding soon.
“I’m just not hungry,” I say with a shrug. While the weight loss has tapered off, I’d rather put a few pounds back on. “At least my double chin is gone.”
She snorts. “You never had one.”
“Yes, I did. Ever open your phone and the camera’s on selfie mode? If you haven’t, you’re lucky. My God, I thought Ursula the Sea Witch had hacked my phone! But it was just me!”
She laughs and says, “Let’s take a break.”
I nod and sit, pulling a water bottle from my small pack, and she does the same.
“So, this hiking thing is new,” she says, and she sounds suspicious.
I shrug. “Eric turned me on to it. As you know, not big into exercise, but I lost all that weight so fast, and I need to tone things up, and the gym is not my scene.”
“Eric always loved to hike,” she comments, looking out over the large canyon from where we sit. “It was his outlet. He and Carter would go camping, hunting, and fishing. Neither had dads who cared in their lives, so they taught themselves everything.”
Eric had told me about growing up, his mom raising them both, as his dad wasn’t really in the picture. And Taryn told me Carter’s parents were alcoholics and he damn near raised himself and spent a lot of time at Eric and Taryn’s growing up. It made me sad because I have a loving family and had a great childhood.
I briefly wonder what Eric does for an outlet while in Africa, but put that thought aside for now since there’s no use in dwelling on it.
“You know, I was thinking...” Taryn starts. I stay quiet and let her continue. “I told you about the Mile High Rooms, didn’t I?”
“Yes, after I dragged it out of you,” I reply, opening a peanut butter protein bar. I offer my other one to Taryn, but she shakes her head. “Why?”
“I can put the app on your phone,” she offers.
My best friend is a computer scientist and is married to a millionaire app developer—Eric’s best friend. He developed an app rich people use to access a secret sex club that rotates around the Mile High City’s area every month, an app that costs thousands a year. As far as I know, Carter doesn’t run the club, he just does the app part for the owner. Then, I remember something.
“I thought you said some congresswoman caught her husband there and demanded it be shut down,” I comment, then take a bite of the bar.
She shakes her head. “No, she tried, but they got rid of the sex workers so there was no justification to shut it down. It’s a legit club. Everything’s on the up and up, I promise.”
“Okay. What makes you think I want the app?”
She shrugs casually and then meets my gaze with her honey-colored one. “I thought maybe you could go in there and have a peek. See if it might be something to do. I mean, you’re not going to meet the one there, but it might take the edge off your loneliness. And of course, the sex is super fun. I’m sure you’re feeling deprived.”
I, of course, never talked to Taryn about my sex life with Eric because I certainly wouldn’t want to talk to Larissa about hers with my brother. But she knew we were intimate. It was impossible not to be with how sexy Eric is. We’re drawn together almost organically. Chemically. It was impossible to not want to share that with him. Plus, I loved him.
Love him.
“Eh, I don’t know. I don’t think it’s a good idea. What if Eric comes back and finds out?”
She gives me a side eye and then looks out over the canyon again. “Well, he has the app on his phone, too, so...”
I gasp. “He does?”
“Yeah, Carter told me he asked for it when he... got out.”
“Has he ever gone?” I ask.
She turns back to look at me. “I can honestly tell you that I don’t know. I never asked.”
I stay quiet. I feel a little hurt but I can’t put my finger on why this hurts me. I’m sure he just wanted to get laid after being in prison for so long, so if he did use it, that’s none of my business. It would have been fun to go there with him, though. I think. Taryn says it’s pretty kinky in there. My curiosity is piqued but I’m not sure I would have the balls to go in there by myself.
“What if I see someone I know?” I ask. “I’ve lived here my whole life. I have tons of clients at the firm, too. Wouldn’t that be weird?”
“You can wear a mask.” She shrugs.
“I can? Do a lot of people?”
She nods. “Yes and no. About half.” She looks at my arm. “But your tattoos won’t be able to hide you. You should wear long sleeves.”
I ponder this. I miss sex but I miss sex with Eric. I’m done with random hookups. That was my past before I met him. I don’t think I could do that. Would it be cheating? No, it wouldn’t. He left me and went halfway around the world without so much as a goodbye. He doesn’t love me and never did. I bite my lip to stay the tears at that thought. I’m literally free to do whatever I want, and I don’t want to.
“Let’s keep going. You’re gonna love the gondola lift. It’s breathtaking!”
She smiles and stands, shoving her water back into her pack and we head up to the top of the mountain.
***
I sip my coffee as I look over Mr. Johnson’s home invasion case. I certainly believe the guy is innocent. They have no evidence except Mr. Larsen, who picked him up out of a photo lineup, and honestly, for him to have had to spend the weekend in jail over that is bullshit, even if he’s guilty. They certainly aren’t going to convict him with just that. As I read over the case, it’s so full of holes, I could drive a truck through it.
I go into Melinda’s office and knock on the doorframe. “Got a minute?”
She nods and indicates the seat in front of her desk. “Sure, whatcha got?”
“The DA has nothing on this case for Johnson. I think you should make a motion to dismiss.”
“Really? There’s nothing at all?”
I shake my head. “No. The old guy can’t describe the suspects properly, and the old lady is unfortunately still in a coma. None of the stolen items have been recovered or reported from pawn shops. They only took cash from their safe and wallets, so no credit cards to trace.”
She looks at the file, then at me. “What do you think? Do you think he’s guilty?”
This question surprises me because she usually doesn’t ask this. So I say, “Well, like you say, it doesn’t matter. Our job is to get him off.”
“I know.” She smiles knowingly. “I’m just curious what you think.”
“I mean, after meeting him and talking with him, I don’t think he is. And the evidence is pointing the same way.”
“I feel the same way, but we can’t make a motion to dismiss until Mrs. Larsen wakes. And if she doesn’t... it’s now a murder case. That will extremely complicate things.”
“Damn. I hope not. Poor lady.” I look down.
“Why don’t you go down to the hospital and talk to the old guy?”
I look up at her. “I thought he was discharged. Just a broken arm and some bruises, right?”
She nods. “Yes, he was, but he’s at her bedside when he’s not sleeping.”
Damn.
“Okay, what hospital?”
“Denver General. She’s in room 600. I’ll call ahead and let them know.”
I nod and leave her office. I grab the file before getting into my BMW and heading to the hospital.
***
I quickly locate Mrs. Larsen’s room and stop short at the door. Mr. Larsen, in a plaid button-up shirt and khaki slacks, sits next to his wife’s bed in a wooden chair with red cushions. He holds a book with one hand, and is reading quietly from it. His other arm is in a cast, being held by a navy blue sling.
I glance at his wife. She looks peaceful, her head is wrapped in a bandage, and the covers are pulled up to her chest covered by a floral blue hospital gown. There’s an IV on a pole, connected to her arm. A machine beeps softly in the background.
I can’t quite hear what he’s reading but she doesn’t react at all. She just looks to be in a deep sleep.
I knock softly on the doorframe. “Mr. Larsen?”
He turns and looks at me, narrowing brown eyes at me. “What?”
“I’m Christa Alvarez, with the attorneys’ office. Can I have a word with you, please?”
“Attorney? For who?” He does not seem happy to see me. I cannot blame him.
“For Mr. Johnson. I need to ask you some questions.”
He scoffs and turns back around. “No. Fuck off, lady.”
Surprised by his profanity, and for some reason, trying not to laugh, I clear my throat. “I just need to ask you some questions. I assure you I want justice for you and Mrs. Larsen. I’m just here to make sure we have the wrong guy, so the police can get busy finding the third suspect. From what I understand, the other two confessed, but Mr. Johnson insists he’s not it. And the other two aren’t talking.”
He turns around again, placing a napkin in the book to hold its place, and sets it on the tray that holds various items like a tissue box, a remote for the bed, and a plastic cup of water. “Let’s go into the hallway.”
I thought the room was quieter and more private, but maybe he thinks his wife can hear us.
We find a discrete corner and he waits until I sit before he does, and it reminds me of Eric briefly, until I tell myself to get my head back in the game.
“I’m sure you’ve been over and over this, but can you walk me through the night of the invasion?” I ask.
He blows out a breath and pierces me with watery light-brown eyes. “Maureen and I were watching television in the living room. As soon as I turned it off so we could head to bed, we hadn’t placed one foot on the stairs before our front door was blasted open. I was so startled I almost fell. Three men came inside and ordered us onto the ground as they held guns.”
“Were they wearing masks?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No. The taller of the three went after me first, hitting me over the head and telling me to shut the fuck up, and if I called the cops, he’d put a bullet in Maureen’s head. Then he asked where the safe was and the combination. So I told him. I just wanted those animals out of my house.”
“Maureen must have had a delayed reaction or something, because she started screaming as loud as she could. One of them kicked her in the ribs, then the head. I got up and grabbed the baseball bat I kept behind the door and took a swing at him. He grabbed it from me, and hit me with it. I blocked it with my arm.” He holds up his slinged arm.
I cringe. Poor guy.
“Then, he hit Maureen in the head with the bat. She immediately went unconscious. While they ransacked the house, I called 911 from my cell phone that was in my pocket. They took everything in the safe and a box of real silverware passed down to my wife from her parents. She’s gonna be so upset when she wakes up.”
“How much did they take, Mr. Larsen?” I ask as I jot down notes on my notepad.
“I had eight thousand in the safe, and some jewelry, that Maureen is also going to be upset about. Her mother’s wedding ring, and a few other things.”
I lift Lance Johnson’s bank employee photo out of my purse and show it to him. “Is this one of the men?”
He takes it from me and pulls his reading glasses from the front pocket of his shirt. He studies it a long time before saying, “I’m not sure.” He hands the photo back to me.
“You identified him from a group of photos the police showed you.”
He looks up at me and removes his glasses. “All those guys were in orange jumpsuits. This guy’s in a tie.”
“Right, so that made a difference in identifying them for you?”
He shrugs. “I’m not sure. This guy”—he points at the photo in my hand—“doesn’t look like any of the ones they showed me. Plus, it was dark. I only can say that two were White and one was Black.”
“Did you see what kind of car they got into?” I ask, even though it’s in the report. I want to see if his memory is the same as that night.
He nods. “Yes, a small dark green car. I remembered some of the license plate and I think that’s how they got the other two.”
He’s right, it is.
“Very well,” I say. I stand and put the notebook and photo back into my oversized purse.
Mr. Larsen stands as well.
“Thank you for your time, sir. I’m very sorry about what happened to you. I hope we can find the third guy, and I’ll say a prayer for your wife that she gets better.”
His eyes fill with tears. “I appreciate that. You really don’t think that Lance guy did it?”
“I’m not sure,” I reply. “That’s why I’m here. If he didn’t, he doesn’t deserve to go to prison for something he didn’t do. If he did, well, then, I hope he gets prosecuted fully. In the meantime, we have to be sure. You understand?”
He nods. “That makes sense. I’ll try harder to remember what he looked like. He was kind of off in the background, you know? One of the White guys was the one who hurt me and my wife with the baseball bat while the others took the valuables and cash.”
“I understand.” I squeeze his hand and leave the hospital, fairly sure the police have the wrong guy.