Chapter Six

 

It was raining when they landed in Sault Ste. Marie. It had taken six hours and three flights to make it that far, and the rental car agency lost their reservation. Maria was a bundle of nerves as they waited for the agency to clean a car for them.

The machines on the lower level of the airport were uninteresting once she removed all products containing chocolate. Hoarding her mass of junk food, Maria stubbornly tried to feed a dollar bill to a Coke machine.

The dollar kept rolling back out.

“Michael, do you have change?”

Looking at her stash, Michael gave her a dollar.

“It’s outrageous what they charge for a soda.” Maria pushed the button when the dollar disappeared. Nothing. She pushed it again. Okay, this machine was the Antichrist. It had her money, but it wouldn’t cough up her beverage.

Putting her hands on it, she tried to shake it, and then for good measure, she kicked it. Michael calmly put an arm around her middle and lifted her off her feet and away from the machine.

“Maria, we’re on the Canadian side. Don’t abuse the machine. What did you want?”

“Pepsi. No, Coke. I definitely want a Coke.”

“Diet?”

Maria gave him a glare. “Do I look like I need to diet?”

“Hey!” Michael held up his hands. “You look like you need medication, but what do I know? Most women I know drink diet soda, and they're thin. I thought it was a taste thing.”

Maria snickered. Yeah, most women he knew also cut their food into teeny tiny little bites and faked being full. “If it doesn’t have sugar, then what would be the purpose?”

Michael stared at the machine. “It’s out of Coke and Pepsi. Pick something else.”

“Oh God! What kind of place is this? How can they be out of Coke?”

“Orange Crush?”

This was unconscionable. No car. No parents. No caffeinated beverage. “Fine, but when we get the car, the first stop is a convenience store for a Big Gulp. I’m running on fumes here.”

“You drank three sodas on the plane and peed four times.”

“I have a small bladder.”

Michael took off his suit jacket and added it to his overcoat. Walking back to the rental counter to offer them a hundred dollar tip if they got him the hell out of there now, he rolled up his shirt sleeves. It had been a long day, and it looked to be a long evening as well.

* * *

 

The trip from Sault Ste. Marie to Grand Marais was the longest one hundred and sixteen miles of Michael’s life. Maria made him stop three times, twice for a bathroom, and once because she accidentally dropped something out the window while playing with the electric switch that rolled the window up and down. He had spent ten minutes on the roadside searching for her lost cell phone. It was broken into pieces, and Maria insisted they give it a proper burial.

Twenty-five miles to go and they finally turned north at Seney. Maria was bouncing on the seat next to him.

“Could you sit still, please?”

Her hand reached for the radio. Michael stopped her. “No. We already had the radio discussion. There is hardly any reception in this area, and I can’t take listening to you channel surf through the static.”

“Can we stop for…?”

Michael pulled over to the side of the road. Sitting there for a moment, he breathed in harshly trying to get control of his temper. He was going to put her over his knee. The only thing she hadn’t done on the trip was keep asking if they were there yet.

“You want to tell me what is going on with you, or are you usually this annoying?” Michael’s tone suggested that it was obviously the latter.

“Sorry.” Maria sat back, for the first time since they set out, not moving. “I—I carry my stress in my stomach, and doing things keeps me distracted.”

“From what?”

“Voices in my heads, scenes, scenarios—all the possible outcomes of finding them.” Maria licked her dry lips searching for her drink. Sucking on the straw, she only drew air since she had drunk it all a few miles back. “I can’t stop imagining the worst. I see the worst everyday. What if we find them dead in the trunk of their car? I worked this case once where…”

Michael put his hand over her mouth. He didn’t think the way she did, and had he known what she was thinking, he wouldn’t have asked. Looking down the road, twenty-five miles away, could be a defining moment in both of their lives.

“Stop it, please,” he said hoarsely.

“I’m sorry.” Maria lost all the nervous energy that fueled her system since San Antonio . Michael was sitting there not moving. He was finally picking up her dread, the desire to never reach Grand Marais. What if they were dead? The longer it took, the longer they lived.

“God!” Michael rubbed a shaking hand across his mouth. He had gone all those hours powered by a need to see his father, to find him and Mariah. His brain never ran to the horror that seemed to dominate Maria’s thoughts.

Maria took his hand and squeezed it. “C’mon. Let’s finish this. I have to know. You have to know. We can’t live without finding them. It’ll be okay. You’ll see.”

Michael was no more convinced than Maria was, but they couldn’t sit on the side of the road forever. Pulling back onto the lonely road to Grand Marais they watched as the forest around them became darker and the sun began to set on another day.

* * *

 

They found the car at an auto shop in the small town. The owner was closing when they arrived, and Maria smiled, showing him her credentials.

“The car had a faulty fuel injector. Unfortunately, we didn’t have the part on hand, and there was none available in Munising. It’s being shipped from Marquette .”

“The man who put the car in the shop, what was his name?”

The man searched his repair records. “A Mr. Brian Guerin. He’s staying at Welker’s Resort next to the Maritime Museum .”

“Thanks.” Maria and Michael left the shop, and they both paused at the rental car staring at each other over the top of it.

“It could be the perpetrator using Brian’s name. His is the name on the car’s registration.”

“It could be Dad.”

“True. Where is this resort?”

“Get in.”

The resort wasn’t very far. They followed the road to the end where it came to a point, and the Maritime Museum and Ranger station was next to the resort. They sat in the car for a moment, before going to the registration desk.

A Mr. and Mrs. Guerin had checked in two days previously.

Michael knocked on the door to room thirty-four, his hand finding Maria’s. They both stood completely still when Brian Guerin opened the door.

“Michael? Maria!”

With a sob deep in her throat, Maria threw herself into her stepfather’s arms, and Michael joined her, both of them hugging Brian tightly.

Mariah exited the bathroom calling to her husband, “Honey, who was at the door?” She stopped when seeing their children.

“Maria?”

“Mom!” Maria went to her mother, hugging her tight crying against her in deep long sobs. Mariah met her husband’s confused eyes from across the room where Brian was still hugging his son. Brian shook his head. He had no idea what was going on.

* * *

 

Maria was making a call to Nick on a pay phone since Michael refused to let her use his still functioning cell phone. Mariah, Michael, and Brian sat drinking coffee in the resort’s restaurant.

“Maybe someone should order Maria real food. She hasn’t eaten anything except sugar and caffeine since we started out hours ago.” It was late, just after midnight , and the kitchen was open for another hour.

“I’ll order her some fried chicken tenders. She likes them with barbeque sauce—no, actually honey mustard would be better.”

“Her diet is frightening.”

Brian glanced over at his stepdaughter talking on the phone. “Cut her a bit of slack, Michael. You can’t imagine how hard this was for her.”

“I understand better than you think. You’re all I have too.”

“Not that son. I know you were worried.”

“How did you end up in Michigan when the last I heard you were going to Maine ? The Upper Peninsula isn’t anywhere ‘on the way’ from Maine to San Antonio , Dad.”

Brian and Mariah shared a look, both of them feeling a tad bit guilty from not calling the kids. “We took a detour.”

“Obviously,” said Michael dryly.

Brian stared at his son. “Listen, Mikey, I know you’ve had a terrible last few days, but contrary to belief, Mariah and I are adults, and we can detour anywhere we want. We would’ve been home on time if we hadn’t had car trouble.”

Michael rubbed his face. “Sorry. I know. I’m being unreasonable, but damn, Dad, couldn’t you take a plane or maybe one of those senior citizen tours on a bus?”

“I like driving. We enjoy it.”

“I know.”

“We never meant to make you worry.” Brian gave his son’s hand a squeeze. “We do appreciate you both taking off to come find us.”

“We couldn’t just sit there and wait. Maria was bouncing off the walls.”

“I told you, she has it harder than you.”

“I don’t get that. You’re all I have too and…”

“Michael,” said Brian, shaking his head at his son, “I don’t mean like that. She doesn’t see the world as you do. There are no black and white lines. She sees in shadows. It’s a gift, a very special, very terrible gift. I know, because I have it. Your mother had it. It’s what made your mother an incredible criminal artist. She could picture the face of killers, put so much into the face from just a description.”

“Maria sees the faces of killers?” Well that explained why she was crazy.

“No. She feels them. She sees the evidence, and she just knows it belongs to them, like an impression. It’s all the pieces, they're like photographs in her mind, and she works them, rearranges them, until the pieces form a picture. Her concept of life is an endless display of snapshots, capturing information. The pieces rattle around her brain refusing to be quiet until she puts them together.”

“She’s more like you than I am,” Michael said quietly, a wealth of feeling in his voice.

“That’s not true, son. You’ve got a full dose of it in you too. The difference is you take what is ingrained instinct and you apply it to a different science. How do you know what company to buy, when to sell, or even when a deal is coming together? What you do, I couldn’t. You read the signs just as we do, and you make it work. You got that from your grandfather, and Lord knows that man was horrified that I took that talent and applied it to the law.”

Michael laughed. His grandfather was a defining man, a powerhouse of ambition and opinion.

“When you were born, the man lit up in glee that finally a Guerin was back in the house to take over the company. If you had followed me and your mother in our careers, his heart would’ve been broken.”

Michael smiled a little at that. His dad was a master at saying the right thing at the right time. “She said something about voices.”

Brian glanced at his wife, whose face was pale. Mariah nodded to him. Brian cleared his throat. “Did Maria tell you how she got the job of medical examiner?”

“No. I never asked. I know she replaced Uncle Rollie when he died.”

“She did. At first, only temporarily, but three months ago, she took the job fulltime.” Brian sipped his coffee, his eyes narrowing in a way that only another lawman would understand.

“Roland Garza was more than my best friend. He was the Chief Medical Examiner for twenty-four years. He was also Maria’s mentor. She studied under him, and he encouraged her to complete medical school and go into forensic science. Roland saw a fearsome untapped talent in her, and the moment I met her, I saw it too.”

Mariah squeezed her husband’s hand. She went to find Maria. This was a story she already knew—one she didn’t want to hear again.

“You know that Roland was murdered in his own morgue. He was in the middle of an autopsy when someone came into the room and killed him. It was a premeditated crime. They turned off the security cameras, and had access to an area that required a security access card to enter.”

It had been six months previously. Michael had gone to the funeral. He heard some of the details, and as far as he knew, the murder was still an ongoing murder investigation. Michael blinked as he remembered seeing Maria at the funeral. She had been pale and quiet, off in a corner, and silently she had slunk away without a word.

“Maria’s first case as a medical examiner was Roland. She did the autopsy on him.”

“God!”

“Yes,” Brian confirmed, the horror of it only now dawning in Michael’s eyes. 

“Someone she knew. She didn’t have to, but everyone in the department knew Roland.” Brian cleared his throat. “I can imagine that while we were ‘missing’, she imagined walking into that cold room ready to do her next case, and imagined seeing me or her mother on the slab. In her head, she probably began the autopsy as if it was a stranger, trying to keep some degree of detachment, because that is what the job demands. It was what she had to do with Roland, and don’t think she hasn’t paid the price.”

Michael paled as the color leeched from his face. There were no words to express how horrible it would be to live through that.

“Maria thinks of all scenarios, and that had to be one of many. It’s a hard job on a normal day, but when the faces become real people, that thin strand of detachment becomes stretched. There is a lot of pain there.”

Michael’s eyes searched for Maria. She was over in the gift shop with her mother, and they were laughing over something as they stared into the closed gift shop windows. The more he was around her; the more layers were removed from the first impression he had of her. It was possible that he never knew her, and in three years, he was finally seeing parts of the real Maria. It wasn’t a comforting thought.

* * *

 

“What did Nick say?” Mariah asked as she and Maria picked their way across the sand, carefully watching for sandpiper nests. They were walking out to the end of the pier that extended into Lake Superior .

Maria had slept in, and when she woke up, Michael and Brian had gone to look at something in the National Forest. Grand Marais bordered the Picture Rock National Lakeshore. Mariah read the local newspaper while waiting for Maria to wake. They had looked through the Maritime Museum before going outside to walk out to the pier.

“He’s glad we found you alive. He sends his best wishes. They still have no leads on who broke into the house, but at least it didn’t end badly.”

“True.” Mariah followed Maria onto the pier that was in part large stones, and the remaining part a solid pier at the end. They jumped from large stone to stone.

“Are you still seeing him?” Mariah moved her blowing hair behind her ear.

“He’s a friend.”

“That wasn’t what I asked, Ria.”

“I know.” Maria paused and waited for her mother to catch up to her. “It’s difficult. I don’t really know what to say.”

“The truth is usually a good place to start.”

“I can’t say.”

“Who can, if not you?” Mariah sighed in relief when they made the main pier. She and Maria strolled out to the end. The clouds were rolling in, and the wind was picking up. It was a beautiful day.

“Mom.” Maria sighed. She wasn’t up to another discussion about her personal life.

“I’m sorry. I guess I would like to see you settled, married and making grandbabies.”

“Oh geez! Can you imagine me a mother?”

Mariah gave her daughter a serious look. “Yes I can.”

“Strange. I can’t. My house is a mess. I’m overworked, the longest relationship I’ve had in three years was with Nick, and that was only for three months. I had a cat. He ran away. I’m much better when it doesn’t get serious.”

Mariah looked out at the sea. “You and Michael, you both worry me. He has terrible taste in women. I think he does it on purpose. He clings to his bachelorhood like a lifeline. And you,” Maria made an ‘Oh Mom!’ sound in her throat, “you go through men like tissue paper.”

“Geez Mom, tell me what you really think!”

“I’m not saying you have loose morals,” Maria lifted a brow at that, and Mariah laughed, “okay, maybe a little. I think at twenty-eight, you might consider a future with one man.”

“The horror!”

Mariah held up a hand. “No sass, missy. I am a woman in desperate need of grandchildren, and neither you nor Michael seems in a hurry to comply with my wishes.”

Maria linked her arm to her mother’s nodding to the shore. “Are you ready to head back?”

“Oh I guess.”

Maria kissed her mother’s cheek, laughing at her tone. “Tell you what, if Michael or I don’t start popping out these mythical grandbabies soon, I’ll look into renting you a few.”

“You’re a good daughter.”

She was. Maria clicked a thoughtful nail against her teeth. Now, how to get Michael married off and producing future Republicans? The least he could do was take the pressure off her.

* * *

 

Marcus Wilson had to go back to work. He walked out of the office without his briefcase on Friday. There was no one there on the weekend, but it was still accessible to him since he was the boss. It wasn’t unusual for him to go in on a Saturday.

Promising his wife that he would meet her at their sons’ baseball game, he took his car to the downtown business district.

Waving to the security guard at the booth, Marcus entered the parking ramp. His normal space was on the third level near the elevators.

Whistling, he was out of his car, and at the elevator in seconds. Swiping his security card, he pushed the button. He waited. After five minutes, he pushed the button again. Taking his security card, he swiped the elevator call again, and pushed the button.

Hearing the elevator, he put away the security card. His cell phone rang. Turning his back to the elevator, he answered his phone.

“Hey, honey.” Marcus smiled when his wife started rattling off a list of things for him to buy on the way to the baseball field. “Yes, dear.” Chuckling, Marcus hung up, turning to the elevator as the door opened.

Before he could turn, an arm came out of the elevator and wrapped itself around his neck. Pulling him backwards into the elevator car, Marcus winced as a pain moved across his front, along his upper abdomen.

Struggling, he glanced down at his t-shirt. There was a cut across his stomach, just below his ribs, dissecting his mid-region. The cut slowly flooded with blood as it soaked his shirt.

Raising his eyes, he stared into the reflective surface of the elevator door, his eyes meeting those of his murderer from behind.

Why?

 

Chapter Seven

 

Maria strode through the bullpen. Waving at a few people, she found Nick’s unorganized desk with him behind it, buried in paperwork. Sitting on the edge, she smiled.

“Hi.”

“You’re back.”

“It looks that way.” Maria handed him an apple. “Apple a day keeps the doctor away.”

Nick sat back. She appeared rested. “You look like you slept.”

“I got my parents back.”

Nick took a bite of the apple, chewing it thoughtfully. “I'm in a bad place, Ria. I definitely want to keep your kind of doctor away, seeing how I’m not ready to make a trip to the morgue, but I don’t want to keep you away.”

“Careful, Detective. You might get what you want, and then where would you be?”

Nick’s eyes moved over her face. “I could imagine worse places.”

“Hmm. Listen, can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Actually, I have two questions. The first is Officer Trina Jenkins. Do you know her?”

“Yeah, I know Jenkins. Why?”

Maria picked up a paperweight off his desk. “No reason, except the last few cases where I ran into her, she was—hostile towards me. One of my assistants suggested that the reason is you.”

Nick breathed out harshly. “I dated her a few times after you dumped me.”

“Dated meaning you slept with her.”

“Is that your business?” Nick’s dark eyes were angry. “Forgive me, Maria, but from my perspective, if you’re interested in my personal life, you shouldn’t have cut me free.”

“True. It’s not my business. I’m not telling you to not sleep with her, and it’s not like I haven’t slept with other men since you.” Maria didn’t notice the clenching of Nick’s jaw. “I'm just wondering if you happened to mention to her that you’ve found yourself cleaning your gun at my place on occasion since.”

“I don’t kiss and tell. You know that.” Nick swore under his breath. “Jenkins and I don’t have that type of relationship. I told you, we only went out a few times, and that was months ago.”

Maria retrieved the apple from him and took a bite. Chewing, she got it. Since those few times, Nick had started showing up in her bed again. “Well, I just think a woman has a right to know. I don’t want her to paint me as the other woman.”

“You’re worried.”

Maria snorted standing up. “Hell, yeah. She does pack heat, doesn’t she? I’m not a superwoman. Bullets will travel through me like butter.”

“Did she threaten you?” his voice went deep and angry.

“I didn’t say that.” Maria stood up, not wanting to file a formal complaint. “I don’t want to be in the middle, that’s all.”

Nick’s eyes went dark and bleak. “And the other question?”

“My parents’ case, what are you going to do about it?”

“It’s officially a B&E now, so it will get kicked from Homicide.”

Maria rubbed her forehead. “Can you keep it for a bit longer? I know your case load is heavy, but …”

“What is it, Maria?”

“I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it. This case—it’s off. Nothing is missing, or so my mom tells me. They were looking for something.”

“Maria, you know if it was up to me...”

“I know. Please, just try to keep it open.”

Nick gave a reluctant nod as Maria handed him back his apple. She bent down and kissed his lips softly. “Really, I owe you.”

Deuce came up behind his partner, watching her leave. “Personally partner, I would suggest you not collect that debt. That woman is toxic to you. Accept that you can’t have her and move on.”

“I’m still sleeping with her,” Nick pointed out.

“What? When you can talk her into it? Usually it’s when she’s in a tired and weakened mood, and you look like a distraction. Every day I see her struggling not to use you, and every day, you open yourself up for it. Take her hint; you’re too much baggage for her. Maria is a nice woman. Don’t make her be the bad guy.”

“She loves me.”

Deuce rolled his eyes, squeezing his partner’s shoulder in comfort. “Man, I loved my last six girlfriends. Do you see me married?”

“That’s because you’re a loser. No sane woman would believe your lines.” Nick laughed at Deuce, but his eyes saw Trina Jenkins and her partner entering the bullpen to talk to the watch commander. “Excuse me, I’ve gotta talk to someone.”

* * *

 

Michael couldn’t find her. He checked everywhere, and she wasn’t answering her cell phone.

In a last ditch effort, he found himself downtown at the coroner’s office. They directed him to her office, but she wasn’t there either. He tried to remember her address. The new house she had bought almost a year ago was somewhere in the Historical District—King William’s area.

“Can I help you?” Michael turned when a man in white, an orderly, saw him hulking around Maria’s office door. It wasn’t hard to imagine the man’s concern given the circumstances of the last Chief Medical Examiner’s death.

“Yes, I was looking for Maria DeLuca. She isn’t answering her cell phone, and I couldn’t remember the address for her new house.”

“Are you a friend?”

Michael scratched his eyebrow. “Technically, I’m her stepbrother.”

“You’re Michael.”

Oh, she talked about him. This couldn’t be good. “Look, Maria’s a bit biased about me, so don’t take anything she said too seriously. I do not iron my jockeys.”

“I’m Sam.” The large man held out his hand, his smile widening at Michael’s remark. “Maria’s off this evening. She had a bad case waiting for her when she got back. It was brutal. So, knowing Maria, I suggest you try the Diablo Club.”

“Diablo Club, where is that?”

“It’s not too far from her house in the King William’s area. From the King William’s Park, go on Turner to Alamo , North to Johnson St. and then take the footbridge. It’s along the Walk, if you go down the first set of steps onto the Walk, past La Mariposa to the store district, there is a side alley behind the Tesoros Galley.”

“The Diablo Club.”

“El Diablo.”

Michael put his cell phone away. Sam saved him from having to make a call to the parent’s for Maria’s address. “Wait, Sam,” Michael said stopping the Intern from returning to work. “What type of club is this?”

“A Cruiser, heavy metal music bar. There’s not much in the way of pop music, just hardcore metal. Don’t breathe in too deeply or you’ll get stoned.” Sam took in Michael’s suit. Nice material. Nice cut. “Yeah, lose the suit, you look like a stiff. Try something leather. Do you own a pair of leather pants?”

“No,” said Michael. “Not since high school. I lost the desire to cover myself in baby powder so I can slide in tight leather a long time ago. There's walking in the heat of summer, and then there's chaffing.”

Sam chortled. “Right. Hear yah there, man. Then lose the threads, go in old jeans and a tight tank. You’ll still blend. Lose the jacket. It will be hotter than hell in there.” Sam found that amusing. “Hotter than hell! Get it?”

“Yeah, Diablo and hotter than hell. Got it.”

* * *

 

El Diablo was sweltering. Sam had that right. Michael had no trouble finding it. It started with a rumble, and the sense of sonic booms along the Walk. The booming noise took on a real sound and you could feel the wave percussion from the bass and drums.

Passing over the ten dollar cover charge, Michael pushed his way into the headbanger’s club. Sam’s advice was sound. His black tank wasn’t too tight when he put it on, but two minutes in the club, and it was sticking to his body like skin, already drenched in sweat.

Michael noted the sea of leather. It was a convention for mass cow death. Poor bastards. The men who tried to go take a leak were going to get out of the wet leather, but no way some of them were getting back in. They might as well piss their pants. The leather would wet, then dry, and shrink up on their bodies like a torture chamber. Aw, the good days of his misspent youth was like a remembrance of mass insanity.

The lights diffused throughout the room, and it was also hard to see through the smoke and flashing lights. Sam was right. Breathing in the room was minimal, and especially if you weren’t interested in becoming completely trawled.

Michael leaned back against the bar, looking over the mass of gyrating bodies. He knew the band. They were good. Back in the day, he would’ve been there too, but nowadays his life included exclusive dinner clubs, opera, and the symphony. On a night off, he might make a round with buddies to a sports bar for beers and the game.

He downed the beer quickly, definitely needing it. Waxing introspective on a life chosen and one passed up was sometimes bittersweet and definitely thirsty work. Michael tipped his bottle for another pass as he stepped up on the bar’s foot railing to get a bit more height.

The bartender made a gesture with his hand indicating the cost of his beer. Talking was impossible. Hell, he probably wouldn’t hear for weeks. Passing a ten, he waved off the change as he found her.

She was in the swell. Straight in the front—dancing, if that was what you could call it. There was no light between her body and the man she pasted herself to as they swayed with the surrounding dancers to the beat.

Sighing, Michael nodded to the bartender for two more fresh beers, giving him a flash of hard currency. That topped him in front of other patrons as the fifty moved from his hand to that of the barkeep. Taking the beers, he left the change, and cut a direct path to where he last saw Maria.

She was in leather. Of course, she was—a tight micro mini with scandalous slits up the legs and a heavy twisted iron belt of Celtic intricate design. Her top was worse. It consisted of a piece of tight black nylon stretched across her front with an overmesh of what looked like chainmail obscuring the view, but since she was soaking wet, it didn’t obscure jack.

Michael peeled the man off Maria. It had to be easier than removing the limpet that was the Chief Medical Examiner. She was hanging like a damn barnacle. He sacrificed his body to get her unattached, as she suctioned onto him.

“Hi, honey.” Michael nodded to the confused man. “Scram, before I rearrange your face for touching my wife.”

It was damn loud, but Michael’s expression and the word ‘wife’ filtered through. The man literally reintegrated himself into the masses, this time finding a man all decked in leather and studs to move with suggestively.

“Michael!”

Maria was now competing with his shirtfront for the position of his skin, her hands moving. Uh-huh, downward, and not too subtly, as Michael stayed his course, and passed up a real quick handjob. It wouldn’t take much. Maria’s body, her hands, the music, the heat, and lights were pushing him to a nice edge. Hell, he almost shot his load in his pants when he entered the damn place.

There was enough smell of weed, sweat, and sex to knock a person off their feet. Luckily, it was the smell of hairspray and styling gels overheated to an aerosol, which worked like pure ammonia to clear the head. Shoving a cold beer in her hand instead, he easily distracted her.

Maria didn’t even thank him; she gulped the beer thirstily as he grabbed her around the middle and escorted her through the crowds, and out of the hotbox.

Maria made eye contact with the bartender and the man nodded as she tossed her empty bottle at him. Catching it, he threw her bottled water, and she held up two fingers as another came sailing.

“What? You don’t have to pay?”

“What?” Maria shook her head indicating she couldn’t hear what he was saying.

Michael looked around frustrated, until Maria grabbed his hand and dragged him down a hall to some stairs. They climbed the narrow stairs to upstairs offices. Maria opened a door, and Michael followed. The office was actually soundproof once the door closed. The far wall was a bank of windows that overlooked the dance floor and main stage.

“My friend Harvey owns the club,” Maria explained, sitting on the edge of the desk. Drinking her water, she ran an arm over her forehead to remove some of the sweat.

“Sorry about interrupting your date.” Maria gave him a confused look. “The man you were—dancing with.”

“Oh! He’s no one I know. A golfer from Scottsdale , I think.”

Michael plopped down in a chair, wincing as his sweaty body stuck to the leather. Drinking the water she handed him, it was a refreshing change to the beers he drank.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“It’s a free world. I’m over the age of consent.”

“You like metal?”

“I love metal.” Michael closed his eyes for a moment. “I didn’t come for the music though; I was hunting you down.”

“You found. Wassup?”

“Did you talk to Nick?”

“I did.” Maria finished her drink. “When I got to work, I searched him out.”

“And?”

“And?”

“Maria, gimme a break. It’s been a long day. I want to know what he’s doing with Mom and Dad’s case.”

“He’s Homicide. There’s not much to do. They’ll kick it to Major Crimes.”

Michael shook the water in his bottle. “And that means what?”

“That someone else will have it, someone that didn’t walk the scene. It will find a pile of working cases, and maybe they’ll get to it this week or next month.”

“So it’s downgraded.”

Maria tossed her empty towards a trash. “It’s not a bad thing, Michael. For Nick to keep it, we’d need a dead body, and I rather it be a B&E.”

Michael agreed. How could he not? He loved his parents. “You ask Nick to keep the case?” he asked shrewdly.

She appeared nonchalant, but he wasn’t letting outward appearance fool him—not this time, not with her. Michael stared into her violent green eyes, and swallowed a smirk. She hated that he called one right.

It was too apparent that in their three-year war, she had won most of the battles. There was too much intelligence, too much knowledge behind her eyes, and he was slowly awakening to the fact that this woman was a masterful manipulator.

“Maria?”

Sighing, she made a face at him. “I asked, but no guarantees. Okay?” Maria sat back, and Michael watched as her eyes changed. There was almost an indiscernible switch to her regard, but he saw it. Now that he knew what to look for, he knew it. Her eyes were taking in his appearance, and she was amused.

“You’re out of your normal hunts, Big Brother.”

Michael swallowed the smile. She wasn’t getting him this time. Nope. He had her number punched. “And you would know that how? I’m a metal rocker from way back, just not as obvious.”

Michael stared at the tattoo on her neck, the one wrapping down her arm. He saw the one on her shoulder, and the other spanning the small of her back. Now, the pierced bellybutton was something he hadn’t expected, but he wasn’t going to let her win by gawking.

“Obvious?” she sputtered, her eyes narrowing. “I see your tattoos,” she nodded to his arms.

Michael shrugged. So, he had two, but not in the same places as hers. Not very daring, but when he was younger he outgrew the urge before he got all the ones he had originally wanted. Today his penis thanks him, because a piercing or tattoo there didn’t seem as exciting as it did when he was nineteen.

The moment she regained control, her face shifted again to something lethal—serene. “Michael, let’s put this away. Why did you trouble yourself to find me?”

The noise from the club interrupted them as the door opened. Harvey, Maria’s friend, came in. It was the bartender. “Hey, Maria. Everything okay?”

“Sure.” Maria smiled at her friend.

“It’s just you came up a while ago, and I wanted to make sure that you weren’t in trouble.”

“Thanks, Harv. Did I ever introduce you to my brother, Michael?”

“Brother?” Harvey smiled wide, reaching out a hand to Michael. “Sweet, man! I thought you were an only child.”

“She is,” Michael said dryly. “Her mom married my dad three years ago.” Michael corrected, but he shook his head in disgust when he saw the triumphant look on Maria’s face. She won that one.

“Step-kiddies! That’s sweet.”

“Yeah, sugary. We’re just a snap, crackle and pop away from yummy goodness.” Michael made a face as he scratched his brow.

“Listen, use the office for as long as you want. Just checking, you know.” Harvey nodded to Michael on his way out. “Yo, listen, come back anytime. A brother of Maria’s is always welcome. Beer is on the house.”

“Nice guy.”

“Yeah, he’s a prince. I met him a few years back when he killed his girlfriend.”

Michael glanced at the closed door.

“No really, he did. It wasn’t on purpose, and he was pretty broken up over it. I guess she got trashed one night while out with some girlfriends, came home, decided to sleep on the driveway behind his car. Next morning, she wasn’t home. He thought she stayed over with her girlfriend, and he went to work. He was a CPA back then.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. He ran her over, backed right out on top of her. He stopped the car and looked. It wasn’t a good day.”

“I can imagine.”

“The club, it was like therapy or something.”

El Diablo? Sounded more like a reaffirmation of where Harvey lived since he accidentally killed his girl.

“Look, you found me, so you want to tell me what was so important?”

Well she had a way of cutting to the matter of things directly; he gave her points on that. “This thing with Mom and Dad, it’s like a buzzing in my head. I can’t get it straight, but I’m telling you Maria, it was no B&E.”

“I agree. They took nothing.”

“It’s not that.” Michael scratched his brow again. He had been worrying about the damn prickling behind his eyes all day. Something kept pulling at him, and it was hard to put a finger on the sore point. Maria was the expert. Maybe she could clear up his anxiety.

“Michael, close your eyes. Breathe in slowly and deeply.”

“I’m not humming, so don’t even suggest it,” he said, complying. Maria laughed, going to stand in front of him. Taking his hands, she squatted in front of him, her voice low and even toned. “Clear your mind, and let it take you where it wants you to follow.”

He could do this. Mental concentration was the pinnacle of his success. His competitors called him heartless and single-minded. The house—he could see the house, the stairs to the bedrooms, the living room—the phone. Michael opened his eyes.

“Maria, why did the burglar call you?”

Chapter Eight

 

“Maybe I should drive?”

“Where’s your car?” Michael asked.

“Home. I got a lift from a friend.” Maria looked his silver hard-on car over. Yeah, she should definitely drive.

“No one drives my Porsche but me.”

“Control freak.”

“You betcha. Say it. Know it. Scream it in your sleep. Get in.”

“How many beers did you have?” Maria asked, refusing to get into the passenger side.

“Three.”

“Jesus! In that heat, are you loco?”

“You drank a beer.”

“One. The one you gave me! Look, I go there for the music, to dance, maybe do some heavy petting—but, no drinking. Water only. It’s so damn hot in there, beer just speeds the dehydration, and if the smoke doesn’t get you, the loss of water will. You’ll be loopy as hell.”

“I’m fine. You’re not driving. Get in.”

Maria, still grumbling, gave up. Selfish bastard, it wasn’t as if she was going to speed—much. They made haste to their parents’ home.

“So if he was looking for something, why did he call me?”

“Good question, mine if I remember. What’s bothering me more is…”

“What if he didn’t find what he was looking for,” Maria finished for him.

“Right.” They both stared straight ahead with grim expressions. There were only so many times a person could worry about finding their parents dead, and the two of them had a lifetime’s worth over the last few days.

Sycamore and Branch streets were as quiet as they had been the last time they had come. Michael pulled his car into the drive, and they both sat there quietly for a moment.

“We shouldn’t wake them.”

“What, so you want to just sit here all night?” Michael asked.

“Look, I don’t want to worry them over something that could be nothing. Let’s just go inside, be quiet, and you know—watch over them.”

Michael glanced up at the darkened bedroom window. Their parents had to have had a long day taking care of the house and all the red tape that came with a criminal investigation after flying home that afternoon.

“Okay, but we have to make sure they’re all right.”

“Fine.” Maria got out of the car. “We go inside, and you go upstairs and check on them.”

“Me?” No way in hell was he going to walk into his dad’s bedroom with him in bed with Mariah. That would be—weird. “I think your Mom would be more comfortable if you do it.”

“Me? No—uh-uh. No way. I once superglued one of my Mom’s boyfriend’s toupees on his head while he was sleeping. I know they’re married, but I don’t want to think about it, you know?”

Michael knew. No child wanted to think about their parents’ sex life. It was disturbing. “Fine. We both go upstairs, and then listen. If we hear snoring, we’ll know they’re okay.”

“What if they aren’t snoring? Huh? What if they’re—you know, doing something else?”

“It they’re having sex I think we’ll know before we get to their door.”

“Eww. I’m not listening.” Maria put her hands over her ears.

“Stop acting like a child.”

“You’re going to hell for this, and you’re going to drag me with you. I’m going to confession tomorrow. Father Flanagan will absolve me.”

Michael stopped at the door, to look back at her. “You go to my church? I’ve never seen you there.”

“I tend to get called in on Saturdays, late. I never make Sunday mass.” Maria sniffed. It wasn’t as if she was an infidel. He could refrain from insinuating she was a satanic worshipper unable to step in a Catholic church. “I usually go on Wednesdays if possible, and confession. I like confession.”

“No one likes confession.”

“I do. I like to see how many times I can get Father Flanagan to drop his Bible.”

Michael glanced at her clothes. Poor Father Flanagan. Maria had to be a trial. There was definitely nothing penitent about her, so maybe the satanic suggestion wasn’t so far off. Maria looked like temptation to him.

“Shhh!”

They entered the house, and slowly made their way upstairs. Michael put out a hand, stopping Maria. He could hear a sound, then another. Pushing her back downstairs, he pulled her into the family room shutting the door before turning on a light.

“Were they…?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Eww. I’m too young for this.”

“You’re twenty-eight and a woman that dissects people all day long.”

“Like I said, I’m too young for this.”

Michael threw himself on the sofa. “So, now what? If we stay, what do we do?”

“Well given the fact I’m not going back upstairs, thank you—we can’t tell them why we’re here.” Maria looked around the room. She grabbed a box off the bookshelf. “Monopoly?”

Michael smiled. Rubbing his hands, he lifted a brow. Oh yeah, his specialty, he was taking her to the cleaners.

“We need drinks and snacks.”

Michael looked up at the ceiling. “Give them another half an hour.”

“Eww!”

“Stop that. I’m the wheel barrel. I’ll need it to cart all my money.”

“I thought you would be the dog. I call the shoe.”

* * *

 

Michael watched her. She was cheating. He lost the first game, and was well on his way to losing the next one.

“You’re cheating.”

“You’re a sore loser. Roll the dice.”

Michael made his move, but his eyes remained on her. She was definitely cheating.

“So the orderly I ran into tonight, the one that told me where to find you, Sam, he said you had a bad case.”

“Pretty bad.” Maria picked up the dice, and looked to see how many spaces she needed to avoid Michael’s hotels. “It happened yesterday morning. A man was murdered when he stopped at his office for papers.”

“Remind me not to go into the office today.”

“You usually go in on Sunday?”

“No.” Michael sat back. “Why did you go into work? The plane ride home was long, and it was already late afternoon.”

“I went to find Nick. It was his weekend to work. The case was there, so I did it.”

“So what happened?”

“I can’t discuss the details to an open case, Michael.”

“Not the case—Nick.”

“I told you. I asked him to hold the case open, not to pass it on.”

He searched her face. There was a lot going on behind her eyes, and it was a real pisser that he couldn’t read her. “I thought you and Nick were over.”

“What’s my going to see him have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know. You know his work schedule. You feel comfortable enough to ask him to do you a favor.”

“We’re friends. I don’t know about you, but I tend keep my past lovers as friends, with a few noted exceptions. Can you even remember your last lover’s name?”

I date them alphabetically. It makes it easier. Did the golfer from Scottsdale have a name?”

Maria’s eyes darkened and Michael knew the moment she decided he went too far in his invasion into her personal life.

“How about Boardroom Barbie?”

“Who?”

“Celeste. She was spending the night. If you let her stay all night, in your own home, then she must be important. She’s your girlfriend”

“No. The fact that she was allowed to spend the night means the opposite,” Michael confessed.

Maria sat back. “So if she meant something…”

“I would’ve put as much distance between us as soon as possible. Sex is sex. It’s easy to shut a door on it. She didn’t make a wave, so she was okay to stay. I don’t do relationships.”

“Why?”

Michael shrugged.

“Oh, c’mon! Corporate Raider, you spend y