Looking around at his house, she didn’t regret being here—didn’t regret that they’d made love, but she did feel as if she’d stepped into someone else’s life. Someone who didn’t have a mother, a home, a credit card, a car, or a job to go to tomorrow.
Of course, this other person had this great sex life. And maybe when she got her life back, she could keep the sex. Keep Brit. Oh, she really hoped so.
Thoughts of Brit doing police work filled her mind, and she cringed with worry. She pushed the worry back, but said a silent prayer that he would be safe.
Cali heard a car pass by; its headlights slicing through the blinds sent shadows whispering across the wall. The house seemed to hold its breath again. “Great, now I’m scared of ghosts.”
She sat down on the brown leather sofa and set her plate on the glass-topped coffee table. “You did this, Mom, thanks.”
Her mom didn’t answer and whether Cali honestly expected a reply was up for debate. Face it. She hadn’t called Brit this morning because a part of her did believe. Which explained why ghostly shadows sent fear bouncing around her empty stomach.
Cali eyed the plate with little interest for a girl on empty. If she believed the dreams, then what else had her mother said? Forgetting the sandwich, she stood and began to pace.
Read the files. Her mom’s words sang in her memory.
But why should she read Brit’s files? Then she recalled her mom telling her to figure out how she’d known Anderson, the officer who’d been killed. Things about him would probably be in the file. She started to the bedroom to see if the files were still on the dresser. As she moved down the hall, Cali could swear she got a whiff of cigarette smoke. But that couldn’t be, could it? Chills tap danced up her spine.
The files were there—as if waiting for her.
Nipping her bottom lip, she picked them up. The picture of Brit’s partner fluttered out like an injured butterfly. Goose bumps played a slow song up her arms. She stared at the image, recalling her mother mentioning it in one of the dreams.
Sitting on the bed, she focused on the face and tried not to think about him being dead. A strange sensation welled up. Recognition. Just like with Anderson, she knew the face. Where would she have known them? How? She didn’t run in the same circles with cops. Heck, she’d never even been ticketed. Non-bitches didn’t break the law, didn’t take chances.
She shook her head. No. This had to be a mistake. Her last three years had been surrounded by doctors and nurses, not cops. And when she wasn’t with her mom, she was at school or at school functions. She glanced at the image again, expecting the feeling of recognition to fade, but it bit down harder. She knew this man, just as she knew Anderson, but from where?
A shiver chased goose bumps around her body. She inhaled and the smell of cigarette smoke nearly choked her. Immediately, her thoughts went back to this morning’s dream. Of seeing Brit, shot and bleeding.
“Please let him be okay.”
~
“He’s out of the vehicle. Walking toward the room.” Brit spoke into the radio. “Ready, Wolowitz? Poe, stay in the office.”
“Ready,” Wolowitz said.
“You vested?” Quarles asked Brit.
“Yeah,” Brit lied. He hated vests. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, and he didn’t intend to let Humphrey get a shot off.
Brit and Quarles got out of the car, their weapons drawn. In the corner of Brit’s eye, he spotted Duke and Mark moving in with the same caution.
Time held its breath as they inched up behind Humphrey, standing in front of the door where he thought Cali stayed. The man paused, then knocked. The idiot, Brit thought. Did he actually think that Cali would open the door to him? She wouldn’t. She was finished with this creep. Finished.
Humphrey suddenly stopped knocking. He placed a palm on the door, hesitating as if sensing something was amiss. Then taking a step back, he swung around.
~
She stared at the picture of Brit’s dead partner again. Where? Where could she have known him from? All she did was go to work, take care of Mom, and maybe attend a school function?
School functions?
“That’s it!” Cali jumped off the bed so fast she almost tripped. They were the two cops who had spoken at the quarterly meeting for the At-Risk kids. She’d been late, because she’d taken her mom in for a blood test. So late, she hadn’t heard the two speak, but she’d arrived before the ceremony ended and she’d seen them sitting at the speaker’s table up front.
She folded her arms over her stomach, feeling lightheaded. Why was knowing this important? Surely, it didn’t have to do with their murders.
She looked at the phone on the bedside table. Should she call Brit? Biting down on her lip, she tried to think how she’d put it. It seemed like such trivial information. Or was it? But maybe she shouldn’t tell Brit until she knew for certain it had been them. But how could she verify it?
“Tanya.” Cali reached for the phone.
~