“Around four. She called a friend and told her she was here. She didn’t say anything about going anywhere.” Brit rubbed his shoulder.
The vision of Cali lying somewhere bleeding kept flashing in his head. Then the vision flashed worse. He saw her lying somewhere with a cold stare of death on her sweet face; the same look he’d see on one of the bodies just a few hours ago in another hotel room. The same cold look that Brit saw on Keith’s face in his dreams.
If anything happened, it was his fault. He’d dropped her off at the school. He hadn’t stayed around to see if that creep had been waiting for her.
“Okay,” Wolowitz said. “We’ll comb the area again. Either she’s on foot or a friend picked her up.”
Or Humphrey had her.
The door pushed open. They all swung around. Cali, still dressed in the pink dress but now topped with a white sweater, stood in the doorway.
Her eyes widened. “What’s going on?”
Brit’s breath lodged in his throat. He gave her a quick onceover to make sure she wasn’t bruised or bleeding. She wasn’t. And that had him feeling like an idiot for overreacting.
“Where have you been?” The question came out harsher than he’d like.
Her red-rimmed eyes focused on him. “Why?”
The possibilities suddenly crossed his mind. “Have you been with Stan? If you’re hiding something, you could go down with him.”
She frowned, her shoulders tightened and every inch of her went on the defensive. “I haven’t seen him.”
“Then where were you?” Even as he asked it, he believed her about not being with Stan. Did she already have Stan’s replacement lined up? It shouldn’t bother him.
But it did.
~
Cali looked at the female officer as if needing an ally. “He’s a total jerk and I don’t like it. Does he have the right to treat me this way? Do I even have to answer him? I didn’t call anyone this time. He’s like a bad penny. He just keeps showing up.”
Edwards hesitated. “I think Detective Lowell was worried.”
“And I think he’s being obnoxiously rude. Oh sure, he’s been nice a few times, but then he goes back to being rude.” She turned around and stared at him. “Are you bipolar or something?”
Brit frowned and raked a hand through his hair. “How did I go from being a dickhead to bipolar?”
“Please, if you’re going to quote me, get it right.” Her chin angled upward in a haughty tilt. “The name I dubbed you is, Mr. Little Dickhead. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to run to the bathroom.” She skirted into the bathroom in a wave of pink fury and slammed the door.
The loud whack served as his wake up call. She was right. He was back to being a dickhead. Again. Brit saw the smile on Edward’s face. “You two can go.”
Edwards shot a questioning glance at her partner.
Brit released a deep gulp of frustration. “It’s fine. She’s just upset with me, but she’ll get over it.”
“So you two are…?”
“No,” Brit said, but it felt like a lie.
After they left, he sank down on the edge of the bed and dropped his face into his palms. He couldn’t chase the image of a bleeding Cali from his mind. He was so tired. So damn hungry. And confused. Why did he keep screwing up where she was concerned?
The answer came hurtling back at him. Because you’re scared she’s like dear ol’ Mom. Because you like her. Like her a lot. And the last thing he wanted was to find himself being attracted to someone like his mom; because then, by damn, that might mean he was like his dear ol’ dad.
The bathroom door opened. She’d washed her face, combed her hair, and if the fire in her eyes was any indication, she’d somehow gotten angrier in the process.
“Why are you even here?” she asked. “This is my hotel room and I haven’t broken any laws.”
He ran a hand over his face, and decided to run with the truth, or the partial truth. “Two bodies were found this afternoon. Murdered.”
He saw her trying to compute the information. “Stan?” Her color faded ever so slightly.
Did she care about the asshole? He got another shot of ire to his gut, remembering how his mom had cared about the numerous jerks she’d allowed in her life. He pushed it back.
“Not Stan. It was two of his band members. Ted Pratt and John Soles.”
Her eyes widened. “I met them once. What happened?”
The image of the two dead men flashed in Brit’s mind. The truth didn’t require details. “Their bodies were found in a cheap motel.”
“You think Stan did it?”
Brit didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. His phone was found at the scene. The men were killed sometime on Tuesday. We think the blood on your door could be theirs. We’re having it tested now. Plus, Stan was there earlier today. ”
Her color went paler. “He was there with the bodies today?”
Brit nodded. “We don’t know if he was searching for something or what. But the last call he made was to your high school. This afternoon.”