Westminster, California
By the time Shadowhawk and Thomas finished with the crime scene at Leo’s Towing, it was long after dark. One of the only signs of winter in Southern California was that the sun set around five pm. He put the keys in the ignition.
“Go ahead. I’m waiting.” She closed her car door.
About to engage the engine, he stopped and glanced her way. “For what?”
“I was right about that slimy little weasel, wasn’t I?”
She picked up her laptop and booted it up.
“Oh my God, you’re relentless.” He started the car.
She opened the program that led to her security cameras. “Only when I’m right and that’s got to be at least–” Her playful mood turned sour. “What the hell?”
Thomas leaned toward her. “What?”
“All the cameras are dark. They’ve been taken out.”
Thomas flipped a U-turn and headed down the street.
“How long will it take us to get to your house?”
She glanced at the clock on the dashboard, it was just after eight pm. “The work traffic is over, so maybe fifteen minutes if you hurry.”
He flicked on the flashing lights and sped up. “You want to call it in?”
“Not yet. The alarm company hasn’t contacted me, so no one’s gone in. Let’s check it out ourselves first.” She kept repeating that phrase in her head, but no matter how many times she thought it, she was still extremely anxious.
She watched Thomas weave in and out of traffic. She knew he was trying, but she had the urge to press his foot down on the accelerator just the same.
He put his hand on her arm and she turned. “We will find out what’s going on.”
“Yeah.” She was glad he was there. They’d only been partners for a little over a year, but in that time he’d become her best friend. He always had her back. She trusted him with her life on a daily basis. They’d faced down the Sandman together during their first case. Facing that kind of shit really forged a bond.
He came to a screeching halt on the street in front of her dark house. If nothing else, that would have told her something was wrong. Her outside lights were on sensors, the moment the sun went down, they came on.
They met at the front door and she tried the knob. Locked. She took out her keys and had to hold them up to the streetlight to find the one for the house. When she opened the door, the house was silent.
She pointed to the alarm console and shook her head. He nodded he understood. The alarm was not set. They took out their guns and penlights. He pointed to himself, then up the stairs. Next he pointed for her to take the downstairs. She nodded and they separated.
Adrenaline flooded her body as she led with her gun, the penlight pointing the way. She swept the living room, then dining area. She placed her back against the adjoining wall that divided the two rooms, the kitchen directly behind her.
She inhaled deeply and listened, but the only sound greeting her was her heart jack hammering in her ears. She swung around the wall and squatted. No gunfire, so she stood and shone her light around, then behind the kitchen counter.
Clear.
She checked the bedrooms and bathroom, but all were empty. The garage door was not closed completely. She eased it open with her elbow and took a quick swing with the light. Clear. She flicked the switch to the overhead light and nothing happened.
The side door to the outside stood wide and she followed it through to the yard. She heard an engine rev and the screech of tires. She ran to the front yard in time to see a pair of brake lights fly around the corner and disappear. “Son-of-a-bitch!”
She slipped her weapon into the holster clipped to her belt and started back. Her foot kicked something and she hit it with her pen light. A can of spray paint. “That can’t be good.”
Once inside the garage, she found the electrical box. All the switches had been shut off. She turned them back on.
Thomas stood in the doorway. “It’s clear upstairs. Did you find anything?”
“The bitch was still here when we came in, but she got away. All I saw was the ass end of a vehicle as it slowed to make the corner. It was too quick to identify other than to say the brake lights were wide and high like an SUV or truck.”
“That’s more than we had an hour ago.”
“Oh, and I found a can of spray paint on the lawn in front. She must have dropped it when she was running.” Shadowhawk closed her eyes. When she opened them, she said, “I’m afraid to see what she used it for.”
He pointed to the fuse box beside her. “Now we know why the cameras weren’t working. She cut the power.”
“Yeah. I guess it’s time to see the damage.”
She walked toward him and he stepped aside. “After you.”
“Thanks a lot.”
She flipped the switch in the dining room and gasped. The wall behind the table was covered with five foot letters spelling out FUCKING CUNT in blood-red spray paint.
“That’s lovely.”
Thomas came up beside her. “She has a wonderful grasp of the English language.”
“Yeah, a real scholar.” She turned toward the kitchen. All the cupboards were open and empty. Everything that was breakable was on the floor in a million pieces. “Son of a bitch.” She squatted and grabbed onto a piece of pottery. “My grandmother made this bowl.”
Thomas came up behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks.” She choked out as her eyes filled with tears. Not comfortable sharing her emotions, she kept her face averted until she could get herself under control. With what was left of her deceased grandmother’s bowl held tightly to her chest, she headed into the living room to see what other destruction awaited her.
The flat screen TV, lamps, actually everything made of glass was shattered. Her leather coach and loveseat were cut to ribbons and the stuffing pulled out.
“It looks like someone went to town with a baseball bat,” Thomas said as he looked around.
The wall going up alongside the stairs was covered with pictures of loved ones: her parents, grandparents, siblings and their families, as well as photos including herself with the many friends she’d met on her travels.
Across the wall and continuing on top of the pictures were the words, FUCK YOU BITCH sprayed in the same lovely red paint.
A lump formed in her throat, choking back any form of communication. Words could not convey the way she felt at this moment. This had been her sanctuary from the degradation of the outside world with which she dealt with on a daily basis. She’d filled her home with items that held sentimental value, none of which could be replaced.
A lifetime of memories reduced to rubble.
A bullet to the heart would have been less painful.
Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. She flew out the front door into the dark of night. She gulped at the air greedily, but it wasn’t enough. Fear gripped her. She collapsed to her knees on the lawn, vaguely aware of the wet grass soaking through her pants.
Thomas appeared in front of her and took her face in his hands. “You’re going to be okay. Try to relax. You’re having a panic attack.”
His hands were as big as her head, why had she never noticed that before?
“You need to slow your breathing, you’re hyperventilating.” He rubbed her arms up and down.
So gentle.
“Come on, take a deep breath. I know you can do it.”
He has such kind eyes.
“That’s it, honey, breathe deep.”
Her muscles became noodles and she collapsed. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.” He caressed her hair.
That feels nice.
She gazed up at the stars and felt as if she were floating. She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she found herself lying in her partner’s arms across his lap like a baby.
“What happened? Have I been shot?”
“No. You’re okay, but you had a panic attack.”
“Seriously?” She scrambled to her feet.
“Slow down.” He stood and brushed off his backside. “You’ve never had one before?”
“Hell no.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Oh, yeah? Have you ever had one?”
“Well, no, but-.”
“Right. If you tell anyone, I’ll have to shoot you.”
He laughed. “Nice to have you back.”
She stared at her house. “I can’t stay here.”
“You can stay with us. You know we have the room. Meagan would love it. What do you say?”
“That would be great, thanks. But I’m as serious as a heart attack, I can’t live here anymore. It’s ruined.”
“One thing at a time.” He took out his cell phone. “Want me to call this in?”
“Please. I’ll go see about packing a bag, if there’s anything left.”
It was just after midnight when they arrived at Thomas’s home in Laguna Beach. He drove into the garage and she pulled her truck up behind him in the driveway. Knowing she’d have things to attend to in the morning, she’d had him drive her back to HQ to pick up her vehicle before they made their way south.
The vine-covered English Tudor home had belonged to Thomas’s wife, Victoria, before she passed, and before that her parents. They had named their daughter for the beach below their home, Victoria. It was the only home she’d ever known, born, raised, and died there.
The family had money. Shadowhawk never asked where the money had come from, or what Victoria’s father did for a living. If anything. It was none of her business, and if Thomas felt like sharing, he would.
Because of the hour, she was surprised to see the house so bright. She would have thought Meagan had already gone to bed. Shadowhawk opened the truck’s door. The sound of waves crashing on the shore below and the scent of the salty sea air made her entire body relax.
Breathing deep, she knew this was the best place for her right now. On the drive down, she’d worried if she was making the right choice. She had many other friends who’d take her in, including her five sisters, but that would open the door for a thousand questions and simply make them worry for nothing. No, this was the best for all concerned.
Busy retrieving her duffel from the bed of her truck, she hadn’t noticed Meagan until she was beside her. “Hey. Thanks for taking me in on such short notice.”
Meagan pulled her into a tight embrace. “Are you kidding me? I’m thrilled to have you. We don’t see each other nearly enough.” She held her at arm’s length. “I’m very sorry for what you’ve been through.”
“Thanks.” Shadowhawk turned back and grabbed her bag, then joined Meagan on the front lawn.
Thomas headed their way. “I called her while we were waiting on forensics. You were busy packing at the time.”
“I should hope so. You can’t bring a houseguest home without alerting the boss.” Shadowhawk patted Meagan on the back with her free hand.
He leaned down and pecked Meagan on the lips. “Damn straight.” He continued on and up the front steps.
Meagan hooked her arm through Shadowhawk’s and they followed in his wake. They entered the house into the living room. A roaring fire welcomed her. No matter how warm the days, it was always chilly at night when you had waterfront property.
A seven-foot high Christmas tree stood in the corner with white lights twinkling alongside the hanging red balls. Big plaid bows adorned the edge of every other branch. The floor around the tree was conspicuously vacant of gifts.
Meagan had begged her to spend Christmas with them, but Shadowhawk wasn’t feeling very merry and didn’t want to bring them down as well. In a few days she would have to deal with her first New Year’s Eve without Maria, but she couldn’t think about that now. Her plate was beyond full.
“Why don’t you put your belongings up in your room? I’ve put fresh linens on the bed, and towels in the bathroom. By the time you get back, I’ll have something ready to relax you. Stay as long as you like.”
“Thanks.” Meagan’s warmth choked her up. No doubt about it, she always felt loved within these walls. “I really do appreciate this, you guys.”
Meagan placed her hand on Shadowhawk’s arm. “Don’t be silly, you’re always welcome. You know that.”
Shadowhawk nodded and turned away quickly before she started crying again. Her emotions had run the gamut tonight. She focused on the hardwood stairs with the floral runner. The entire house was like going back in time, shined to perfection were the hardwood floors, each room covered with extra large area rugs in deep, rich colors.
The pictures that adorned the walls were scenes of cottages with thatched roofs and gorgeous gardens, the English countryside and some of the sea, all originals painted by the same artist. Meagan had told her that Victoria’s mother was British and wanted to be reminded of her homeland. They had a house in London as well. She had no idea if Thomas kept it up or had sold it after his wife’s passing.
Shadowhawk stopped in front of the room at the end of the hall on the left hand side. Fresh flowers sat on the nightstand by the four-poster bed. They called this the tartan room, it was fully done up in navy and forest green plaid: curtains, bedspread and table cloths. The Thomas coat of arms hung on the wall above the bed.
This was where she’d always stayed, usually with Maria. She set her duffel on the bench seat at the foot of the bed, and walked to the window. After cranking it open, she stuck her head out and gazed down at the tumultuous sea hitting the rocks below. She filled her lungs deeply, then slowly exhaled, a sense of calm following.
After a couple of minutes, she felt cold and closed the window. Time to unpack. She’d left the hangers in her clothes, so she simply needed to add them to the closet. She hung a shirt and vest in the bathroom so the steam from her shower would ease the wrinkles.
When she came back down, she found Thomas and Meagan reclining on an overstuffed couch gazing into the flames, mugs in their hands. The firelight reflected off Meagan’s riot of red curls, her blue eyes sparkled. The only other light in the room came from the tree behind them. The moment Meagan noticed Shadowhawk, her bare feet hit the floor and she ran over to her.
“Come join us. We were just unwinding.” She picked up a mug from a side table and handed it to her. “I made you a Keoke Coffee, sorry but the whipped cream melted. I’m sure it’s still good though.” She giggled. “I made the Kahlua myself from an old family recipe.”
Meagan returned to the couch and tucked her legs beneath her before taking a sip of her drink. Shadowhawk sat on the rug with her legs outstretched in front of the hearth. The three of them remained silent. In the distance, she heard a soft Celtic melody playing, a nod to Meagan’s ancestors. Oh, yeah, this was where she belonged tonight.