Unlock the Truth

Chapter Eleven

Dena awoke in the casita the next morning, stretched out in the bed, and smiled. This was the third bed she’d slept in since she’d come to the desert, and definitely the best. She lay still and listened, wondering if Zeke had stayed for the whole night.

If so, where had he slept? There was no couch.

They’d talked for an hour about his mother, the church, and the necklace. She’d told him of Carli’s mention of a guy named Bobby. “Coincidence,” he’d said, “make nothing of it. Every second Latino in the district is named Roberto.” She wondered about that now. Being a P.I. was harder work than she’d ever imagined. Maybe she’d have to stick to public relations work. Every time she came close to uncovering a clue, nothing came of it. Yet, she still felt there were answers, some kind of connection to Carli and this place.

A strong sense of guilt washed over her. Zeke had been so kind and protective last night. Yet, she hadn’t said anything about Carli being her sister. She was still lying to him and she didn’t know why. She trusted him. So why wouldn’t she just fess up?

Dena grabbed a pen and paper and started to list what few clues she’d uncovered. A loud knock sounded on the casita door. Then it repeated. It sounded like the front door would break down. She swung her legs over the side of the bed.

“Hang on,” Zeke called out.

She heard a few muffled comments and imagined him pulling his jeans on. She threw on her silk kimono and tied the belt, wondering what the commotion was all about.

With the door of the bedroom cracked, she could see Rocky’s dark angry face. His eyes swept the inside of the casita, and she ducked behind the bedroom door then took another quick peek through the crack. Deputy Stanton was behind him, in civilian clothes and wearing dark sunglasses. She opened the door a little wider and leaned forward to hear.

“Sorry,” Stanton said. “I need to talk to you, Zeke. This is…off the record…friends, you know…”

“Sure, come in.”

Dena bristled. Yesterday he was the enemy, about to drag Zeke into jail in handcuffs.

“What the hell is this?” Rocky asked, and glared at a comforter and pillow on the floor. “You slept here? Irma said that woman was down here.”

Dena stiffened in defense, and she wondered how Zeke would cope.

“Can we get some coffee going?” Zeke asked. “I just woke up.” He stretched, rubbed at the small of his back.

Dena pulled in a long breath and let it out. Good. Change the subject.

She might as well show her face, act natural. Well, it wouldn’t be an act because nothing happened last night between her and Zeke, other than in her imagination.

“What’s happening?” she asked, smoothing a hand over her hair and entering the main room.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing sleeping here?” Rocky blustered. He took a couple of steps toward her, his face dark with rage. He spun around and glared at Zeke. “It’s an affront, this is. It’s Isabella’s place and—”

“It’s my place,” Zeke said, his voice icy cold. He raised an open palm. “I can do anything I want with it. I can burn it to the ground if I want.”

Dena held her breath. Good for you, Zeke.

Rocky gasped. Stanton barely acknowledged her. He didn’t even look her up and down and she was braless in a tiny kimono. “I’ll make coffee,” she said.

She rummaged around, found the ground coffee and filters and set to work. The men were quiet for a few minutes, except for the shuffle of feet and the occasional clearing of a throat. “I’d rather—” Stanton said, with an apologetic look toward Rocky, “—talk to you alone, Zeke.”

Rocky stammered. Dena thought he was about to refuse to go.

“Leave us, Rocky,” Zeke said. “I need to have you look over some business later. We’ll meet at ten, in my office, okay?”

Rocky’s face darkened. “Sure.” He glared at Dena. “There’s a lot to discuss.” Then he stalked out.

Dena moved to the door to make sure he didn’t hang around to eavesdrop, but he was almost at the stables.

“Listen, coffee’s on,” she said. “I’ll go and shower. Leave you guys alone.”

Zeke gave a brief nod and looked at Stanton who stood just inside the front door. He still wore his dark glasses.

Dena opened the cupboard door where she’d stored a few goodies last night. “There’s cereal, fruit,” she said, then walked over, opened the fridge, and peered inside. “A couple of bagels, cold pizza, milk, preserves, and cream cheese, if anyone’s hungry.”

“The bagels and cream cheese sound good. Right, Dave?” Zeke asked.

Stanton nodded and finally walked across the room. He sat, and his round body overflowed the edges of the small bistro chair. “Dena can stay,” he mumbled.

“You’re sure?” That was a surprise. “I’m happy to leave you guys alone.”

“No. What I have to say, well, it affects us all.”

The room became still and quiet. Dread rose up her throat in a giant lump. It concerns me, affects me? This could only be about Carli. The coffee pot made that little gurgle, hiss and sizzle sound it makes when it’s done brewing. She swallowed a couple of times and her pulse took off like she’d just consumed the entire pot of caffeine. Damn it. She should have confessed last night to Zeke.

She tried to calm herself while she popped the bagels in the toaster. She carried everything else to the table. This is what lying got you. Having your untruths revealed when you’re unprepared.

Her cell phone rang in the bedroom, and she recalled the problems of last night. She shoved her hair out of her eyes, and let out a frustrated sigh. “It has to be Mom, or Aunt Ruth,” she said, and hurried across the room. “I’ll tell her I’ll call back.”

“We’ll wait,” Stanton said. “Take your time.”

She grabbed her phone and hit the button to answer.

“Is this a good time, Dena?”

“Mom?” Her mother never asked that. Dena adjusted the phone to her ear and strained to hear anything from the other room. A murmur of conversation floated in. She wanted to get back out there. “I can talk for a minute, but I’m in a meeting—”

“I’m sorry,” her mother said, and sniffled.

“About what?” Dena felt her blood turn to ice. What had happened? Had they been in an accident? Was Aunt Ruth hurt?

“Last night,” her mother said. “I think…I think I said some mean things to you.”

Oh, that was all. Nothing she hadn’t handled for the past twenty years. Dena let her breath escape. “Mom, it’s no problem, nothing to discuss—”

“But there is, Dena. I’ve always treated you mean. I don’t know why, probably because you were so smart and I felt—” She started to cry. “—you know, lacking in that department. Your father admired you.”

What the hell? Dena looked toward the door. She tried to stay with the conversation on the phone, but her thoughts were flying every which way.

Her mother sniffled, blew her nose. “My therapist said I was jealous.” She gave a brittle laugh.

Dena swallowed hard. This was a breakthrough of sorts, but it was the wrong time. Damn it. Why does everything have to happen all at once?

“Mom, I love you. Try not to worry or be hard on yourself. I’m in an important meeting. We’ll talk more later on. Go back to bed for a while, promise?”

“Okay. Ruthie’s still in bed.”

“Good, you two take it easy. I’ll call in a few hours.”

The smell of toasted bagels wafted toward Dena as she hurried back to the kitchen. Zeke and Stanton were in the process of slathering them with cream cheese.

Darn, there were only two and now she wanted one. She poured cereal into a bowl, added milk, and carried it to the table. It was boring, but it was food.

“Is everything okay with your mother?” Zeke asked.

“Yes. Better than okay.” At least she thought it was, but hadn’t fully processed the conversation.

“Dave, want to let us know what this visit is about?” Zeke asked.

Stanton took off his dark glasses. His eyes were red and swollen, and Dena looked away.

“Susie,” he said.

“Go on,” Zeke said.

Stanton swallowed, and his jowls moved up and down. “We were…you know, together.”

“When?” Zeke asked, and a frown creased his brow.

“The last night anyone saw her alive.”

“Where were you?”

“The Sandbar, all of us,” Stanton said, waving a cream cheese stained knife from him to Zeke and back. He blinked hard, like he was perplexed at the question.

Zeke moved forward. “You’re saying that she was murdered that night?”

“Close as we can guess. Nobody ever saw her again. And she had your jacket on when they found her body. Remember she was cold after the argument? You gave her your jacket.”

“Oh, I forgot about that. Yes, I did, I remember now.”

Dena sat still. Had Stanton come to warn him? That wouldn’t be right, he was a cop and he hated Zeke. Stanton’s eyes welled up again and he swiped at them with both hands, then took the paper napkin and blotted them.

“Sorry. I had to tell them—”

“Tell them what, Dave?” Zeke asked.

Dena felt a little chill of warning. While it wasn’t about Carli, this was going to be big.

“They found two different sets of DNA…you know, she’d been raped or had sex, or…I was one of the partners.” He rearranged what was left of the food on his plate.

The casita went quiet. Dena swallowed a mouthful of cereal without chewing, and reached for her coffee.

“Oh, Dave, I’m…geez…I’m sorry,” Zeke said. He sat back in his chair. “When did you two start seeing each other?”

“Six months ago, on the quiet. She didn’t have a good reputation but she’d tried to turn her life around.” Stanton sniffed hard several times.

“I know,” Zeke said. “I tried to get her to go to AA.”

“She told me,” Dave said. “The DNA doesn’t match yours. Just like the other case, I mean…sorry—” He glanced toward Dena. “—Carli’s case.”

Dena nodded. Stanton hadn’t said “your sister’s case.” Good. But darn it, she’d have to come clean with Zeke soon. It was Monday, and she recalled her promise to Steve then pushed it away. She needed more time, just a little more. If she told Zeke, would he be insulted if she asked him not to say anything to anyone else at Three C’s? Would he think she’d come here initially to investigate him?

She straightened. “Do they have any clues?”

Stanton shook his head. “We can’t think of any connection between the two women. Other than they looked alike.” He looked at Zeke, grimaced. “Kind of like your mother, Isabella.”

Dena gasped and covered her mouth. She turned to Zeke. “Do you have a photo of your mother?”

Zeke’s face went paler than pale. His hands shook as he pulled a photo out of his wallet. He handed it to her.

Isabella had to be around thirty in the picture. A hot lump rose in the back of Dena’s throat and she reached for her glass of water. Don’t faint, don’t faint. Breathe, breathe. She drank the water in huge gulps.

“Do you have a photo of Susie?” she asked Stanton, and carefully put the glass down.

He pulled a picture from his wallet.

“Hang on,” she said, and went into the bedroom for her purse and grabbed a couple of recent photos.

They lined up the three women’s photographs. All were petite redheads with gorgeous skin. They looked like sisters. Dena felt the room sway and sat down. Zeke pulled his chair close and slung an arm around her shoulders.

“Damn,” Stanton said, and pushed back his chair. “Seeing them lined up like that is weird. Can I take these to the station?”

“Yes,” Dena said, but her voice seemed to come from a distance.

“What does it mean?” Zeke asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m gonna find out.” Stanton stood. He shoved the little chair under the table with such force it made the china clink. “After high school, Susie went to college in Florida. She took a job there.”

“I vaguely remember her saying that,” Zeke said.

“Yeah, she came back after she heard you were home. She’d started dying her hair red as she got older. She’d always…you know…had a thing for you.”

“That was a long time ago, Dave. We were kids,” Zeke said.

Stanton held onto the back of the chair and stared at the floor. “I never really stood a chance.”

“Don’t say that,” Zeke said softly.

“How come her parents never reported her missing?” Dena asked. She’d do anything to prevent a discussion of rivalries between the two men.

“They said they were worried. She’d told them earlier that day that she was going to meet some guy. He’d offered her a high paying job in New York—”

“What? Wait.” Dena gripped the table. “It’s the same story as Carli’s. That’s what she’d been told…” Tears welled up in her eyes, and she grabbed for her paper napkin.

“I’m sorry, Dena,” Stanton said. “Susie didn’t say who the guy was, not that her parents could remember. She must have been, you know, sleeping with both of us.” His eyes got all watery again. He shrugged, pressed his lips tight for a moment. “We had sex in the back of my car that night, up at the top of the cove.”

Embarrassment crept up Stanton’s jowls and stained his cheeks. “I was on duty, on a dinner break,” he said softly. “I thought everything was great, but then she said she wanted to break it off. She told me to drop her on the edge of Old Town, that she was going to the Sandbar. I did.”

“And then she got intoxicated and belligerent,” Zeke said, nodding. “She made a ruckus and Rocky and Manny and I tried to quiet her down. She wouldn’t have any part of that.”

“Then what happened?” Dena asked. She picked up her coffee mug and took a couple of sips.

Zeke scratched his jaw and squinted. “Far as I remember, we tried to ignore her, but she kept goading me. She threatened to climb my wall that night and see Susie Q. for the last time.”

“I was dispatched to the disturbance,” Stanton said. “Call came in there was an intoxicated woman throwing rocks at a vehicle in the parking lot.”

“Your car?” Dena asked, and turned toward Zeke.

He raised his eyebrows, nodded.

“Zeke had requested a restraining order on Susie earlier that week. It hadn’t quite been processed,” Stanton said. “At the time I’d thought it was out of line and—” He grimaced. “—I was guilty of holding it up.”

Zeke shot Stanton a look, but kept his mouth shut.

“But she knew about it?” Dena asked.

Both men nodded.

“Did you take her in to the station?”

“Wish I had,” Dave said softly. “I just gave her a warning and—”

“I didn’t press charges,” Zeke said. He pushed a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t. I felt bad enough that I’d requested the restraining order. She’d rambled on about being glad to be getting out of this hellhole once and for all. To tell the truth, I didn’t pay much attention.”

“So what happened to her then?” Dena asked.

“I’m not sure,” Zeke said. “I remember the owner came out and said he’d get her sobered up. Said he had coffee. Dave left on a back-up call, a shooting in Indio. I went home.”

“So, she went back inside the Sandbar?” Dena asked.

“Far as I know,” Zeke said.

“And Manny and Rocky, what did they do?”

Zeke gave her a blank stare. “I’ve no idea. We all met there in separate cars.”

“Did Manny sleep over that weekend?”

Zeke frowned. She waited while he went back in time to re-enact that evening.

“I doubt it. It would have been the wrong time of year, you know, no harvest,” Zeke said. “He doesn’t stay unless he’s working the fields.”

Dena nodded. Somewhere, somehow, she’d find a connection.

Stanton stared at the three photos again. “I’d better go. While I still have my job I want to investigate some more.”

“You think they’ll fire you?” Zeke asked.

Stanton swallowed hard. “Most likely put me on probation. I had sex with Susie in my car while on duty. That’s enough for dismissal. But I had to tell it like it happened. You never know, there may be some clue that comes through that can point to her killer. I owe her that.”

Good for Stanton for doing the right thing.

Zeke stood and held out his hand. “Thanks, if you need anything…”

“Sure.” Stanton pumped Zeke’s hand for a moment, then slapped Zeke’s forearm. “I’ve got it covered. I’ll find the bastard, whether I’m on duty or not.”

“Good. I don’t like the thought of him doing harm to another woman,” Zeke said.

“Sorry, you know…for my behavior yesterday,” Stanton said. He moved away, came back. “Listen, there’s someone in town I believe is making trouble for you. Nothing I can pin him with, but I’m going to look into it a bit closer.”

Zeke pursed his lips and ran a hand over his head. “You can’t give me a hint?”

“Rather not do that, in case I’m wrong. Give me a few days and I’ll be in touch, even if I’m no longer in uniform.”

Dena walked Stanton out the door, hugged him, and watched his sad figure waddle up the path toward the hacienda. The secrets of the desert were beginning to unravel. She shivered, and went back inside.

****

Zeke dropped back into a chair and banged his head against the iron rim of the table. First the confession from Stanton, then the photographs, how weird was that? Then there was the suggestion of sabotage of his business. His thoughts spun wildly, hitting on feelings that almost materialized, then spun out of his mental grasp again.

“What the hell does all this mean?” he asked Dena when she came back inside.

“I don’t know. But you’d better stop doing that head banging. You’ll break the glass top and that’s all we need, an injury and a visit to the E.R.”

They sat in silence for a while. Dena took a sip of the lukewarm coffee and made a face. “I’m making a fresh pot. Want some?”

“Yeah, make it extra strength. Damn. Poor Dave.”

He shook his head a couple of times, noticed Dena’s pallor. He wanted to ask, but wouldn’t risk a discussion on her friend’s photo just yet. There’d be time later.

“So, was everything okay with your mother this morning?”

She put a clean filter in the coffee pot, spooned in the grounds, and added an extra scoop.

“Mom apologized for being mean.”

He took a slurp of disgustingly cold coffee, and waited.

“I think she had a breakthrough with therapy, or maybe Aunt Ruth helped her in some way.”

“Well, that’s good, an apology.”

“Maybe, but I still can’t trust her.” She grimaced. “I know I have issues, but she’s never been there for me before.”

“It’s a beginning. All the rest is stuff from the past, and that means nothing. Let it go.”

“I know,” she said her voice soft, resigned. “I’m sure we’re in for a long overdue heart-to-heart.”

“Good for you,” Zeke said. “I regret never doing that with my mother. If I’d worked harder to know mine, perhaps—”

“Take your own advice, Zeke. Let it go.” She walked over and kissed the top of his head.

He slipped an arm around her waist, liking the feel of her body warmth, and the sound in her voice that said she was working on her relationship with her mother. By the end of his mother’s life, they had held each other in cool regard. Like polite distant cousins.

The coffee pot gurgled.

He ignored it, pulled her into his lap instead. They held each other tight. Not kissing, not touching in a sexual way. Just two wounded birds taking sustenance from each other.