BITCH (A Romantic Suspense Novel) Read online

  Six

  Who the hell was awake at this hour?

  Erin looked up at the corner of her phone screen to check the time before she answered the call. It was earlier than she thought. Only midnight. She was awake at this hour, when she wasn't on vacation. The number wasn't one she recognized, but there were precious few that she would. Dad's ringer said "Dad," but he wasn't going to call.

  Becca's said her name as well, but it obviously wasn't either of them. And it wasn't Roy because it was a 213 number, and that meant L.A.

  Finally she picked up the phone on the fourth ring.

  "Erin Russo speaking."

  "Erin, I know we told you that you need a vacation."

  The captain, then. Okay.

  "And I'm taking one, just like you said. I might not have wanted to, but I can take orders, at least. Sir."

  "That's not why I'm calling Erin. There's been… something happened. You should come in as soon as you get the chance."

  "I'll be in town tomorrow morning."

  "You're serious. Erin, where did you go for your vacation, your neighbor's house?"

  "I'll see you in the morning, Captain."

  "Erin, I just want to say, before you have to get into all this shit… I'm sorry."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "You'll know what I mean when it's important. Now get to sleep, if you're really going to be back by morning you need it. You need to sleep more."

  Erin was wide awake now. Four hours was plenty, and she still had to get to the airport. Three hours was enough time to get a cup of coffee, take a ride through town and maybe get breakfast before they went up. Plenty of time to wonder what the hell the Captain was sorry about.

  No, not wonder. She was worried. That old son of a gun wasn't the kind of person to be sorry for calling her in early. They understood each other, and he understood that getting called in would probably be a godsend for her. Work was all Erin had, outside of Becca, and even then they hadn't spoken in a few years.

  Not since Becca had gone to live with their father, and that was just how it would have to be.

  Well, maybe things would be fine. Maybe she was overthinking it. But she didn't think so. She didn't think so one damn bit. Whatever had Captain Blunt calling at midnight to tell her to get her ass back in town at first convenience, it was something big. If he was apologizing, then she was right to worry.

  Had something happened to her father? That was a best-case scenario, but her relationship with dear old dad wasn't something that she wore on her sleeve. So Captain would have been worried about how she'd take it. He would probably worry more when she took it about as well as being told that they'd had to buy a different brand of coffee this week.

  Most people who reacted that way, they reacted that way because they were so upset that they weren't registering what had happened. Shock, they called it. Erin had seen people in shock, and it was disturbing to say the least. People get hurt, then they think that they're immortal because they're so high on an absurd cocktail of chemicals that they don't realize what the hell they're doing.

  She pushed herself out of bed and dressed. She tried to take it slowly but she was out the door in ten minutes anyways. She'd packed the night before, and now it was just a matter of getting her suit on, shoes on, tied, and out.

  She checked out and fit herself into the comfortably small seat of the compact rental she'd gotten. It was just as nice as she remembered it being. It still ran better, quieter, and cheaper than the Jeep, but it still didn't have the character. In other words, just the way she'd left it.

  The way down the mountain wasn't as bad as they made it sound. Sure, a couple of corners made her a little nervous, but they'd made her nervous on the way up the mountain too, and that was when they were still relying on artificial snow because the first snowfall hadn't hit yet for the year.

  Now there were high berms of snow on the low side of the road and it created a strange claustrophobia as every curve became blind, and she had no way of knowing whether or not there was a car about to come blazing around the next corner until she made the turn.

  Okay, maybe that wasn't super safe for ambulance drivers, after all. They made risky choices when they thought they could afford it. For speed. Passing folks, stuff like that, and with all these blind corners that turned into a logistical and safety nightmare.

  Still, for someone taking it slow, it didn't present a problem. Not even at one in the morning. She hit the city by two, and was sitting down in a twenty-four hour nationwide diner chain that claimed their eggs couldn't be beaten. How someone could make that claim, she would never know, because as far as Elle was aware everyone could at least sort-of cook eggs, and they mostly tasted about the same.

  She got waffles instead, and asked for extra butter, because she didn't have the type of body that tended to need to worry about her arteries, and with the way that she often lost herself in her work she wasn't about to get that kind of body, either.

  The waitress walked away still writing on her order pad and came back a few seconds later with Erin's water. She took a deep drink. She'd never been to Wyoming, but she could see the charm. The mountain was beautiful, and the view of the town down below was a sight to behold, when she could see it after the rain cleared.

  This had all the makings of a great trip. She met a guy who happened to live on the wrong coast, but a guy nonetheless. More than she could say for the past ten years in L.A. The skiing, for the amount she'd been able to do, had been great. The views—gorgeous.

  Then it turned out that she couldn't bear to be away from work for more than three fucking days and back on the plane she was already going. The fact that the captain had called her specifically to tell her to get her ass back into town, well that was just icing on the cake, after all. She was going to be there anyways, now she just had more motivation.

  Erin put her earphones in and turned her music back on. The interplay of the instruments was why she listened to jazz. Kept her mind moving. Now more than ever, she just needed to keep moving, long enough to get back into town and find out what the hell the Captain had been so worried about.

  Maybe he'd let her work on something again. Not necessarily likely, she knew. There was a reason she'd been told to take a vacation, and whether she agreed with it or not, she doubted that Captain Blunt would change his mind just because she'd gotten a little bored out there.

  But that didn't mean that a girl didn't have the right to dream, and vacations didn't stop bad guys.

  Seven

  Erin felt strangely numb. She hadn't realized that she could feel this way, but it was how she felt and it wasn't going to go away no matter what she did. So she might as well get used to the idea that she was going to be numb for a while. Shock might have been the right word.

  It wasn't her first time seeing a body. She saw them all the time, and most of the time they looked much worse than this. With her eyes taped shut, Becca looked as if she was sleeping lying there on that slab.

  Erin turned to ask the Captain what had happened, what the scene looked like, but he had left. A minute to grieve by herself. She leaned on her arms, her hands bearing the weight of a body that didn't know exactly how to hold itself up any more.

  "What were you doing in California?" Erin could feel the anger building inside her, the anger that would prop her up. It would be the thing that kept her moving in the days to come. Anger at herself. At her sister. But most of all, anger at the son of a bitch who had done this.

  Rebecca wasn't going to answer her, but Erin gave her time regardless. She had always been the good sister. The good daughter. It was no trouble for her to drop everything for Dad. If it would help, of course she would go. It was no trouble, after all.

  It didn't matter that she would have to give up her silicon valley internship, the one that she had been working for since practically the day they had come out to California.

  More upsetting, though, was seeing herself lying there on the slab. Ident
ical twins. Which also, Erin thought with a sour sarcasm, meant that now her boss knew what her tits looked like. The thought hit a darkly humorous funny bone, but her frustration and anger deadened it. She took comfort in the fact that at least he was old enough to be her grandfather, so hopefully he hadn't thought too much about it.

  Erin wanted to kiss her sister goodnight, one last time. Press her lips against the forehead that so perfectly matched her own, and send her sister off with good wishes.

  But there was nowhere to send her sister off to. She was dead, she hadn't just gone to sleep for a while. Erin grit her teeth and walked out.

  "Erin, if you need more time—"

  "I was tearing my hair out, Captain. If you take me off the active roster, I don't know what I'd do."

  "Watch some daytime television, maybe," he suggested, but there was no heart in the joke.

  "Something like that, yeah."

  "I don't know that we exactly needed you to identify the body—she had her I.D. and, I mean…"

  "I know exactly what you mean. But legalities are legalities."

  "Do you have a way to contact your father? He'll want to know."

  She tried to keep herself from blurting out that there was no reason to assume that. He hadn't cared when Mom died, why would Becca be any different? That wasn't a conversation she wanted to have with her boss, though.

  "Who's on the case?"

  "Assanti's lead, but—"

  "Assanti? You've got to be kidding me. Vic, please, just—"

  The Captain's thick eyebrows tightened. "Russo, you know I cannot. I know how you're feeling, alright?"

  "He has a, what, seven in ten record?"

  "He's the next best behind yours, and you know that."

  "Compared to five in six. And the other one, he always comes in on something else sooner or later."

  "I know, Erin, but I just can't give you the case. I know you want it, and I know you'll show it every bit of your considerable talent. But I can't, not even if I wanted to. It's a conflict of interests, and everyone knows it. I'd be in the shit before you could say 'you're fired.' "

  Erin let out a breath. "Then I'll just look into it on my own."

  "Russo, you know I can't let you do that. I don't want to, but I will suspend you if I have to."

  "Then at least let me consult. Keep me in the loop."

  "You shouldn't even be in the office again until Monday morning."

  "Well, I've got nothing else to do. Get Assanti to print me off the files he's got now, I'll look over them, and on Monday I'll have something for him. You know I'm good for it, and you know the first week is the most important time to get leads going. Two heads are better than one, right? And Assanti can take lead. Just let me on the case."

  "Erin, are you sure that you're going to be able to work under him?" The Captain put extra emphasis on sure.

  "I'll do what I have to do to see my sister's killer put away, sir."

  He looked at her a long moment. "Do not make me regret this, Russo. I'll put in a call, we'll have files ready for you by noon. But you take your box, you go home, and if you want my advice, I suggest you get good and comfortable with daytime talk shows until Sunday night, and then bring your box of files back unopened on Monday."

  "Thank you, sir. You won't regret it."

  She practically skipped out of the room. She might be furious over Becca's death, and she knew some of that anger was pointed right back at her.

  But at least now she had someplace to spend it. She had something that she could do to keep herself sane, at least. That much was enough, for now.

  She slipped into the Jeep and pulled her phone out of her pocket. This was the part she wasn't looking forward to. She opened up her contacts list. It was down to just one, now, after she deleted Becca's number, but she couldn't make herself do it. Not right now.

  She pressed on 'Dad' and then clicked 'call.' The phone rang until she went to voicemail. She hung up without leaving a message and called again. He never answered the first time, because if it was important, he figured, they'd call back. Well, it was important.

  He picked up on the last ring, and from his voice he might not have realized that Becca was gone yet. After all, he still must have had Bud Lights in the fridge.

  "Who's this?"

  Erin forced herself to sound as pleasant as she could, which was only a simmering rage.

  "Dad? It's Erin."

  "Oh."

  Oh? Was that it? After seven years, all he had to say was 'oh.' Oh.

  "It's about Rebecca."

  "One second," he said into the phone. He sounded like he could almost stand up if he had to, from his voice over the phone. Some things never changed. She heard him shout into the phone. "REBECCA!"

  A moment later he put the phone back to his ear. "She's not here, Erin. I'll have her call you when she gets back. Thanks for calling. Now, if you don't mind, I was watching—"

  "Dad, you need to listen to me. Rebecca came to Los Angeles."

  "What? Why would she go to Los Angeles?"

  Maybe to see her sister, who was off getting fucked like some floozy, Erin thought to herself. She didn't say that.

  "Dad, stop it. Stop talking and listen."

  "Okay, gosh."

  "Dad, Becca is dead. She was stabbed—"

  "Well—what the hell? How am I supposed to—"

  Erin clicked the phone off before he had a chance to finish the thought. Classic Dad.

  How fucking typical. She took a deep breath and tried to keep herself calm. It wasn't that he didn't care. It was that he couldn't care. She reminded herself of that.

  Maybe there was a time that he was capable of it. However Mom had managed to get along with him all that time, there must have been something to him before he became… what he was. But now, he was like a child. Incapable of thinking of others.

  It didn't help her feel better as much as she had hoped.

  Eight

  The box was lighter than it looked, but it tired Erin out anyways. It shouldn't have, but that didn't change the fact that it did. Maybe the Captain was right. Maybe she should take the next few days and try to get her head straightened out. But she couldn't afford that kind of luxury, not when her sister, the only person in the world who had ever cared about her, was lying there on a slab in the coroner's office with a half-dozen stab wounds to the abdomen.

  She opened the box up. A handful of photographs, printed on large paper, and a file with the basic paperwork. Erin laid out the photos on her coffee table.

  She'd already seen the body, so that part wasn't nearly as upsetting as it could have been. What she was looking for now was anything she could get from the scene. It would have been better to be there, to see it. But with how queasy the photos were making her, there was a real question how well she would have handled it. She forced herself to keep looking.

  Why was her sister even in a place like this? It didn't fit with her, and she didn't fit with an end-of-the-road alleyway in the bad part of town. There was blood all around, so clearly she'd bled to death in that spot. It wasn't a body dump, then.

  Could it have been a case of a mistake? She just went out there without knowing how rough the area was? Erin shook her head. No, no way. There were people who wouldn't pick up on the signs, and people who assumed they were just misinterpreting, but Becca had never been that kind. She knew what she was getting herself into when she stepped over there.

  It left the question, of course, why she was in L.A. at all. She'd been living with Dad in Minnesota for the last ten years, why would she suddenly need to come and make friends with dear sis. Unless she wasn't there to meet Erin at all.

  That made less sense, though, because so far as Erin knew, her sister was still working some dead-end job because Dad couldn't be left alone long enough to take trips across the country for something very serious.

  Every avenue of approach just led to more questions.

  Two questions bubbled to the top, though, as the
most important ones. First, what had brought her here? Second, what brought her to an alley in the middle of a no-go zone?

  There were answers that Erin could think of, but none seemed to be a sure thing, not even necessarily very likely.

  She wrote the questions down on the top of her pad and dropped it on the couch beside her, and then pulled out the paperwork and started reading through it.

  The body was found at ten P.M. the night before Captain called her. Which means that essentially as soon as he got back to the office he had called Erin to tell her to expect something bad when she got back.

  Bad didn't begin to cover it, but then again he hadn't used that word exactly, either. Erin sucked in a breath and kept reading. The location was more-or-less where she thought it was. The difference a few blocks made could be surprising, but she had already narrowed it down to that area from the graffiti and the used condoms and dirty needles just lying around.

  They got into what had happened specifically. An anonymous tip called in from a cell phone belonging to a local, Marco Rodrigues. He was known to the station to be involved in the narcotics trade, but when they rode around to talk to him about it, the route was a dead end. Erin hadn't expected it to go that easily, but she was surprised to find that they'd moved so quickly on the first lead. Maybe they were working the case seriously after all.

  She moved down the page further.

  Robbery unlikely. She was found with a wallet containing seventy-three dollars in various denominations, a credit card, and a Minnesota-issued state I.D., no drivers' license. Which meant that someone else had taken her there, perhaps a taxi.

  Time of death was officially placed an hour before the call came in, around 9 P.M., and that was about where the official details stopped.

  They'd made calls to the taxi companies, seeing if any drivers remembered her face, but it took time for that kind of information to come back, and they probably hadn't gotten an answer yet. Beyond that, though, there wasn't much.