Solitude Creek

She showered and dressed in PJs and crawled into bed next to him. They lay thigh to thigh, and she sensed he was ready to talk about her day if she wished but wasn’t going to push it. Thank you, she thought silently, and squeezed his hand as a gesture of the thought, which she knew he understood. She wondered if he’d heard the argument between her and Michael O’Neil.

She asked, ‘How’s Mags doing?’

‘I kept an eye on the Skype session with the Secrets Club gang. Bethany’s quite the young lady. I expect to see her as the head of the State Department in a few years. The White House is an option too. I think they were using codes. I couldn’t figure them out. Like they’ve created their own language.’

Dance laughed. ‘If they put half that energy into schoolwork.’

‘When I was a kid and supposed to take a shower, I spent more time running the water, getting a towel wet and rubbing dirt from the floor on the washcloth than if I’d just jumped in. Something about getting away with it.’

‘Did it work?’

‘Not once. But I kept trying. Oh, not to worry, I’m over shower-cheating now.’

Her mind returned to the argument she’d had with O’Neil. Her gut clenched and she felt a flash of anger. She realized that Boling was saying something else.

‘Hmm?’

‘Just goodnight.’ He kissed her cheek.

‘Night.’

Boling rolled over on his side and in a few minutes he was in enviable sleep.

Dance realized she was staring intently at the ceiling. Then she told herself to relax. But how ridiculous an order was that?

She continued to wrestle with the greater implication of O’Neil’s words, which he had not spoken to her. That if she had taken a weapon, yes, maybe they would have stopped the Solitude Creek killer today. Maybe she would have been closer to the door and seen him trying to escape.

And if anyone else died in another attack, that would be on her shoulders.

But if she had, and word had gotten back to CBI headquarters that she’d broken protocol with a pistol, it would have been the end of her involvement in the case and, more important, her secret role in the Serrano matter. She wasn’t willing to do that. Michael had to understand.

Except, obviously, he didn’t.

She, too, rolled over, back to the man beside her, hoping for prompt sleep.

It was nearly dawn before her addled mind stumbled into nonsensical thought and, finally, dreamless dark.

THE SECRETS CLUB SUNDAY, APRIL 9

CHAPTER 54

‘Did you hear from TJ? The lead came through, got a location and we’d better move on it.’

Those words, uttered by Al Stemple, were virtually one sentence, one breath. And not a single grunt. He knew he wasn’t known for speedy anything and the fact that he was taking a let’s-go attitude with the Guzman Connection task force was meant to convey: Time’s a-wasting, boys and girls.

Carol Allerton, Jimmy Gomez and Stephen Lu were in the war room. Lu asked, ‘Lead?’

Stemple grumbled, looking at his watch, ‘Yeah, yeah. Lead to Tia Alonzo, Serrano’s skirt.’

Drawing a glance from Allerton.

Oh, please …

Lu said, ‘Where?’

Stemple wondered where Lu got his clothes. He had to have a size-thirteen neck. Tiny. His white shirt and black slacks bagged. ‘Houseboat off Moss Landing.’

‘Houseboat?’

What I said, Stemple thought.

‘She with anybody?’ Gomez asked.

‘No, just her. Was with some guy but he left, TJ said.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Kathryn’s outside. She’ll go with us. So, draw straws. Jimmy?’

‘Sure, I’ll go.’

Lu said, ‘Why don’t we all go?’

Allerton: ‘I need somebody here. I’ve got to finish these transcripts from Oakland. The prosecutor needs them in a couple of hours and I don’t think I’m going to make it. ’

Lu said, ‘Sure. I can do that. Happy to help out.’ That defined Steve Two. Somebody else might’ve said, ‘Oh, I just looooove paperwork. Can’t get enough.’ But sincerity was baked into his core. He returned to the tasks on his desk.

Gomez pulled on his tan sports jacket, checked his Glock. As if the bullets had fallen out between the last time he’d checked and now. ‘After you, Al.’

Together the men walked out into the parking lot.

Kathryn Dance was waiting.

‘Hey,’ Gomez said.

‘Jimmy.’ She nodded. And they walked toward Stemple’s cruiser.

Looking around, Dance asked, ‘Charles doesn’t know I’m here, does he? You’re sure?’

‘Not from us,’ Gomez confirmed. ‘We Fab Four took a vow of silence. Even Steve Foster’s agreed. He can be a … you know.’

‘I do.’

It was transparent, Stemple thought.

They climbed into the car. Stemple started the engine and sped west on 68, heading for Highway One, which would get them to Moss Landing in twenty minutes.

‘Who’s this Tia we’re going to see?’ Gomez asked. Then: ‘Whoa.’

Stemple never paid much attention to speed limits.

Dance said, ‘Tia Alonzo. Use to be an exotic dancer.’

‘Love that. “Exotic”.’