The Killing League

19.

Nicole

The friendship between Nicole and Tristan Burke had developed at the Culinary Institute. They had shared many a bottle of wine and late night discussions about the other students and teachers at the cooking school, as well as their hopes and dreams.

Although Nicole had gone on to success at the Institute, Tristan had gotten discouraged and dropped out halfway through the program. She had gone back to school, gotten her degree in psychology, and now worked as a counselor for the LAPD. Most of her work revolved around job stress, but she also worked frequently with cops who were involved in fatal shootings.

Nicole pulled up in front of Tristan’s apartment in the Acura with Sal in the backseat. She had rolled down the side window so he could stick his snout out into the fresh air, if there actually was any fresh air in L.A., and he had made the most of the opportunity.

As Nicole parked at the curb, Tristan waved from the window to let her know she’d be right out.

Nicole thought about her friendship with Tristan. She almost laughed that her best friend was both a lesbian and a shrink.

Admittedly, for a long time after the attack by Jeffrey Kostner, Nicole had had issues with men. And she knew that on some unconscious level, she may have found a small amount of comfort in friendships with women who had no interest in men. Maybe she found even more comfort in a friendship with a woman who studied psychology, and because her father was a cop, knew a little bit about bad people.

But all of that was a microscopic part of her friendship with Tristan. The fact was, she enjoyed the hell out of Tristan. Her friend was warm, funny, with an acerbic sense of humor that hid a deeply compassionate soul.

The front door to Tristan’s apartment building opened and Tristan Burke walked out in a blue t-shirt, tan hiking shorts and hiking boots. A backpack was slung over her shoulder and a travel mug, probably filled with Peet’s coffee, was in her hand.

Tristan was nearly six-foot tall with an athletic build and short black hair. She had a beautifully chiseled, strong face, which now creased into a smile as she opened the door and dropped into the passenger seat.

“Good morning Nicky,” she said. Sal nuzzled Tristan’s neck. “And good morning to you, handsome man,” Tristan said to the big Doberman.

Nicole took Pico down to Ocean, then hooked up with Pacific Coast Highway. They shot straight for the Santa Monica Mountains with virtually no traffic to slow them down.

“So, how’s business?” Tristan said.

“Better than I could have imagined,” Nicole said. She could be honest with her friend as Tristan had never really taken her culinary ambitions to heart.

“We’re practically booked solid for the next two months,” Nicole said.

“I knew you could do it, Nicky,” Tristan said. “I’m just glad my bad attitude at school didn’t derail you.” They had often joked about their disparate experiences in culinary education.

Nicole pulled into the parking lot at the foothills of the Santa Monica mountains. The hiking trails were a favorite destination of Nicole’s in her free time. With Sal by her side, and the comforting feel of a knife strapped to her calf, she had roamed the trails to physically exhaust herself and to drive anxiety from her body. She often felt she could see the stress and tension lift from her body and evaporate into the trees and dry air of the mountains.

“Long or short?” Tristan asked Nicole as they got out of the Acura and Sal did a long stretch. His tail wagged in anticipation of the hike.

They had a variety of trails they liked to walk, but usually chose between the long trail, which was just over seven miles, and the short trail, which was about half that. It all depended on how much time they had.

“Long,” Nicole said. “Does that sound good?”

“I’ve got nothing going on until drinks with Kimberley at five,” Tristan said. Kimberley was Tristan’s partner. They had been together for nearly five years. Kimberley was a vice cop with LAPD and gotten counseling from Tristan after a bloody shootout had left three people dead. Long after the counseling sessions were over, something more had developed between the two.

Nicole shut and locked the Acura, hooked Sal up to his thick leash and checked the sky.

When they had started out this morning, the sky had been bright and clear, but now, a thick strand of dark gray seemed to be heading toward the mountain, and a tickle of cold air brushed Nicole’s face.

Sudden storms weren’t exactly commonplace for this area, but she was prepared with a poncho in her backpack.

The three headed for the mouth of the trail, and Nicole felt a chill as the air temperature seemed to drop with every step.