A Revelation of Death Read online

  “Be safe,” she said.

  Sam, Jeannette, Devon, and the rest of the officers canvassed the neighborhood. One person on a side street saw a large, tall figure get into a gray Bronco. The man in question was similar to the police sketch and Sam wanted to find and question him.

  “Any idea which direction he headed?” Sam asked Jeannette, who’d gotten the intel. They’d reconvened in the church’s youth room, which boasted a large table to one side. Sam spread out his documents, including the sketch. Like Cici said, the guy looked familiar, but not like someone Sam knew well. The forensic team was headed back toward Albuquerque, the newest camera from the cat’s collar part of their evidence to be reviewed.

  “Toward Cerrillos Road,” Jeannette said.

  “So…anywhere in town by now,” Sam muttered.

  “Any part of the license plate?” Jeannette asked.

  “The Bronco’s? Just what Cici gave us,” Sam said. “But we started going through those Ring doorbells’ database yesterday. Here’s to hoping.”

  45

  Cici

  A king is always a king—and a woman always a woman: his authority and her sex, ever stand between them and rational converse. ― Mary Wollstonecraft

  * * *

  After Sam left for the second time, Jeannette shooed Cici back to the relative safety of her office, where she managed to finish her sermon, and handle two pastoral care calls before she heard from Sam again.

  “Are you going home?” he asked.

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  “I headed down to the OMI. I want to talk to the tech directly.”

  Cici understood this was part of Sam’s job, but the idea of him being gone for multiple more hours made her uneasy.

  “I heard from Joan,” Sam said. “She thinks the cat will be fine. But he’s going to need to be monitored for a few more days. Also, and this is good news, he’s microchipped. We’ll see what comes up in the database. The initial chipping is from the animal shelter off of Cerrillos.”

  “So, the cat is local?” Cici asked.

  “Yeah, and his name is Tobias, according to those records. We have his initial docs—he went to live with an elderly woman in Sol y Lomas.”

  “The neighborhood where Patti lived.” Cici winced. And died.

  “Right. About a block west of the Urlichs’ house. She died three years ago, so someone must have taken him in thereafter.”

  Cici rubbed her bottom lip against her upper teeth as she considered possibilities. “That’s why the guy went after Kelli directly. He must not have had the cat yet.”

  “Seems like the best hypothesis we’ve come up with.”

  “Can you find out who lives in Sol y Lomas?” Cici asked.

  “I could, but it’ll take time. I’m trying to get a match on the partial license plate and your sketch. It’s gone out to the rest of the country.”

  “But the cat is still local,” Cici said, standing. She winced at her sore hips. Too much sitting, thanks to her boot. “It probably wouldn’t go too far. I-25 is to the south of Rodeo, both big roads, and you’ve got Old Pecos on the side, heading north-ish.”

  “You think the cat stayed within those parameters, not wanting to cross a major street.” Sam hummed a moment. “Possible, maybe even probable. So, we stretch out the area to include DeVargas Heights—”

  “And Quail Run,” Cici said.

  “And even the retirement facility off of Rodeo, down toward the cemetery. Those houses back there.”

  Cici let her head fall to her chest. “You’re looking at a big area.”

  “I don’t want to rule any possible suspects out. They found two more women besides Jenny at the preserve today.”

  Cici’s knees started to buckle so she locked them. “So many.”

  “That’s pretty typical with a rapist. And, unfortunately, we have a long list of missing women and runaways to match the identities against.”

  “What about a rapist who murders?” Cici asked. “Is this typical for that type of criminal?”

  Sam hesitated. “Needle in the haystack. Why don’t you get home? It’s late.”

  Cici glanced at the clock and winced. Nearly seven. Her dogs must be crossing their legs at the back door. Not to mention, there was little daylight left to walk them.

  “Shoot. The dogs are not going to be happy.”

  “I asked Jeannette to head over and walk them.”

  “Sam—”

  “Cici, you have a broken ankle. The dogs still need exercise. Just…humor me on this, all right?”

  She didn’t want to. Not at all, but he was correct that her ankle, while stabilized, still ached. “I’m shutting up my office now. I’ll share my leftovers with her. Maybe that’s a good incentive to take Rodolfo more than a mile. He’s been frisky.”

  “Get Devon to walk you to your car. He’s waiting for you to finish up there.”

  Of course Sam looked out for her. He never stopped. Cici agreed.

  “Gotta go. The tech’s ready to see me.”

  “Talk to you later,” Cici said.

  She and Devon made their way across the lot, Devon’s hand on his service pistol while she held her keys between her fingers in one hand and her pepper spray in the other. Once in her car, she locked the doors and began the drive, hyperaware of each shadow and sound.

  She saw Devon speaking into his walkie talkie strapped to his shoulder, no doubt letting Sam know she was on her way home. Devon settled into his car, but he didn’t leave the church parking lot.

  By the time she arrived home, her neck muscles spasmed. She was strung out and frustrated by her changing, bubbling emotions. Part of her wanted a long hot bath; another, larger part of her cringed away from the mere idea of water touching her skin.

  She stared at her brightly-lit house. She narrowed her eyes. Seriously, who turns on every light? Right. Jeannette had come by to walk her dogs.

  Cici gritted her teeth as she grabbed her bag, which got caught in the passenger seatbelt. After some tugging and whacking of her boot that jostled her tender ankle, Cici clambered out of her car with as much grace as a walrus on land.

  That’s when she became aware of the sound of heavy breathing and gravel crunching up her driveway.

  46

  Cici

  A dream is just a nightmare with lipstick. ― Toni Morrison

  * * *

  Cici yelped as she spun around, nearly dropping the bag holding her laptop. She juggled the satchel as she pointed her pepper spray out toward the approaching person.

  A slim woman in athletic gear and a long ponytail. Behind her were two large white dogs, their tongues lolling out of the sides of their mouths in happy grins.

  Cici lowered the pepper spray. “Evening, Jeannette. Thanks for the dog-walking services. Seems like too much to ask since you’re already babysitting me.”

  Jeannette’s eyebrows rose. “On top of ruining my spa day. Isn’t he the biggest fool?” She shook her head on a sigh. “I guess I should tell you I checked out your house before I took the dogs for a run.”

  “I noticed the lights. Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving the church?” Cici asked.

  Jeannette’s expression morphed into discomfort and she rocked back on her heels.

  “Ah,” Cici said. “Sam wanted you to scope out my house.”

  “Yeah. And, to be honest, I’d planned to beat you back so I could go through each room again. To make sure it’s safe.”

  Cici’s shoulders tensed but she forced them to relax. No, she didn’t like the idea of Jeannette perusing her home, but she liked the idea of being hurt less. Cici sawed in a deep breath and managed a smile.

  “Thanks for running the dogs.”

  Jeannette’s lips quirked up in a full smile as her hands sank into the thick fur behind the dogs’ ears. “They’re awesome. I can totally understand the attraction to such mighty companions.”

  “They’re pups from my sister’s dog,” Cici said. She felt a deep pa
ng as she mentioned her sister. Again, she wasn’t sure if it was grief or anger at Aci for involving Cici in this newest case.

  Jeannette’s eyes widened. “Wow. You really are the sweetest person ever.” She shook her head, a small frown punctuating the skin between her eyebrows as her eyes darted around. “Let’s go inside.”

  Cici juggled her purse, putting away her pepper spray and took the dogs’ leashes from Jeannette, who sprinted ahead, bounding up Cici’s steps. She pulled out a key, the one Cici had given to Sam—Cici could tell by the chile pepper key ring—and opened Cici’s door.

  Cici tried to swallow down the weirdness of having Sam’s former lover and current partner in her home. Weird because, even though she and Jeannette came to an understanding in the hospital in Farmington at the tail end of the last mission, Cici remained jealous of the time Sam and Jeannette spent together.

  The dogs whined and tugged on the leashes, clearly liking Jeannette’s fast pace better than Cici’s slow hobble.

  Stop it.

  These thoughts were not productive or helpful. Plus, Cici liked Jeannette. She appreciated the other woman’s strength and focus. Cici closed the back door and unleashed the dogs. She carried her bags to the living room couch and dropped them there. Then, she made sure the dogs had kibble and water. After washing her hands, Cici began to pull out the many containers of leftovers.

  Jeannette bounced back into the kitchen. “All clear. Whoa. That’s some spread you got there.”

  “Mrs. Sanchez set up a meal train.”

  Jeannette smirked. “I take it no one crosses Mrs. Sanchez?”

  Cici’s lips rose in an answering grin. “Who was your scariest boss?” Cici asked. She pulled down a couple of plates and then moved to the next cabinet to grab glasses.

  “Easy. Paul Bresdeen. The guy Sam and I are working for now. He’s a total workaholic and he doesn’t accept excuses. Ever.”

  “Mrs. Sanchez would terrify him.”

  Jeannette’s bark of laughter caused Cici to turn toward her. She found the other woman dropping her hand from her mouth.

  “And you’re funny. I can’t imagine why Sam would ever have settled for me.”

  The jealousy Cici felt rose but then fizzled as she saw the sincerity in Jeannette’s eyes tangled with a guileless hope. Cici doubted Jeannette turned hopeful often—and the fact it was directed toward Cici—that the other woman sought Cici’s approval and friendship caused her negative responses to crumble.

  “We weren’t ready for each other,” Cici said.

  Jeannette snorted. “You’re going to be embarrassingly cute now, though, huh? I bet you’ve already talked about marriage and kids and…” Jeannette waved her hand in front of her face.

  “Yes,” Cici said, keeping her entire body neutral. “Does the possibility upset you?”

  Jeannette snorted. “Nope. I’ve tried out marriage. Didn’t work. As for kids? I’m not cut out for that life.” She inched in closer to Cici, almost as if she were a lost cub seeking the warmth of a potential new mom.

  “You’ll make a fantastic wife and mother, and you terrify me with your goodness. You also make me want to puke because of all that sweetness your vibing.”

  Cici handed Jeannette a plate and opened the lids to the containers. She stuck in serving spoons.

  “If it makes you feel better, I had to work really hard not to be jealous of you while you and Sam were dating.” She hesitated. “I kind of wanted to run you down with my Harley.”

  Jeannette giggled. “That does make me feel better, actually. Now, I can assume you’re human.”

  Cici made a face. “Yeah, well, I only have so much patience. Eat up.”

  “You’re definitely not a pushover,” Jeannette murmured.

  Cici kept her gaze steady. “Remember that.”

  They ate, swapping cautious stories about their childhood and work life. Cici enjoyed Jeannette’s wicked-sharp sense of humor, though she had the sense Jeannette toned down her normal acerbic side in an attempt to impress Cici’s revered status.

  They’d cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher when headlights flashed across the living room window.

  Cici lived on a street with regular traffic, so at first, she didn’t think much of the headlights. She glanced up, noting a boxy SUV driving past.

  A few minutes later, the same vehicle drifted past in the other direction.

  “That’s the second time the car’s driven by,” Cici said.

  Jeannette’s head swiveled to face the large, picture window. She walked toward it as the headlights cut back again. This time the person parked in Cici’s drive.

  Mona raised her head from where it rested on her paws. She cocked her head, but as usual, her brother proved more aggressive. He rose with a menacing bark. The fur ridging his shoulders rose, creating a larger silhouette for the already-giant dog. He tracked to the window and barked again.

  Jeannette hiked up the sweatshirt she’d thrown on before they ate dinner and pulled out her Glock from the holster at her hip.

  “Call this in,” she snapped. “Now.”

  Cici fumbled with her phone, managing to press the buttons for nine-one-one as a large figure lumbered across her front yard.

  Jeannette watched from her spot next to the door handle, craning her neck to peer out the window. She flicked open the deadbolt as heavy steps eased up the porch steps.

  Jeannette shifted, Glock raised, one hand on the door. Cici lowered the phone from her ear, disregarding the pleasant voice there as the bootsteps faded away and Jeannette released a long, slow breath. She opened the door and darted outside, jumping over a box sitting on the front porch. She ignored Cici’s call to wait.

  Jeannette strode out into the middle of the street and fired her weapon at the retreating vehicle. The tires caught and screeched as it veered around the corner.

  “Caught its rear passenger tire,” Jeannette called as she reloaded her clip. “I’m taking off after this guy. Head back inside and lock your doors.”

  “Jeannette—” Cici began, but the other woman raced to her vehicle and backed out of the driveway.

  Others’ doors opened up and down the street, people calling out, ensuring their neighbors were safe. Jeannette’s taillights swung around the corner and disappeared.

  Cici turned to answer the plaintive call of her elderly neighbor. She clicked off the nine-one-one call and dialed Sam’s number instead.

  “Something bad happened,” Cici said.

  That was before she looked down at the box of her porch.

  “Oh…oh God.”

  47

  Sam

  Her unwavering confidence in an arm which she believed to be stronger than all others combined could have raised from her sinking spirit. ― Sojourner Truth

  * * *

  He was too far away. He couldn’t save her—again. His worst nightmare seemed to be reenacting. A week ago, he’d feared he’d never see Cici again, and he was right back in that pit of hell. His heart seemed to pound harder than a smith’s hammer. Why had he stayed in Albuquerque so long?

  He knew the answer, of course. He’d hoped to placate Raynor, who he’d taken with him to OMI—didn’t work. And his boss, Bresdeen, didn’t care if Raynor’s feelings were pinched. When Sam tried to explain that Raynor would have a role, an important one, he stormed off and Sam had spent thirty minutes searching for the guy.

  At least now he was only miles from Cici’s house.

  “What’s wrong? What happened? Are you okay?”

  “Sam. The cat is on my front porch. It’s dead.”

  “What?”

  Sam slammed his foot on the gas pedal.

  Cici swallowed thickly enough for Sam to guess she was suppressing the urge to vomit. “It’s in a box and there’s a lock of purple hair with it. Last time I saw her, Marietta’s hair was dyed purple.”

  He cursed under his breath. “I’m on my way now. Get inside and lock the door and call 9-1-1. You never should’ve gone out
side. Where’s Jeannette?”

  “She followed him. The murderer. He was here. She ran outside and shot at his truck… Sam, someone needs to go by the vet’s clinic. What if he…”

  48

  Cici

  Nothing natural can be wholly unworthy. ― Anna J. Cooper

  Cici tore her gaze from the thick chunk of hair and the darkening of the gray fur on Tobias’s chest and out into her street. Her neighbors all stood at their sidewalks, most in small clumps, shivering and staring down the street. Sam pulled into her driveway and bolted from the vehicle.

  Many of her neighbors glanced back at Cici and Sam, some with frowns, others in speculation, all clearly wanting more details about what was going on.

  “The Bronco drove by twice,” Cici said before Sam could ask. “The guy dropped the cat in a cardboard box and took off. By the time Jeannette opened the door, he was already in his car, driving away. She shot out a rear tire, she said, and then she sped off after him.”

  “Jeannette went off alone?” Sam’s cursing this time was even more vicious and creative, hands fisted on his hips as he glared down the street. “She doesn’t listen or think.”

  “I tried to stop her.”

  Sam dropped his aggressive stance and ran his hands through his already tousled hair. “Wouldn’t do much good. Jeannette’s going to do her thing. I need to call Bresdeen, then the SFPD chief.”

  He took off into the street, head bent, phone to his ear, without another word. Not that Cici could blame him. She wasn’t happy with the scenario either.

  Because, somehow, she felt like she’d failed both Sam and Jeannette—that she’d tangled them both in this man’s twisted, sick need for power and death. She glanced back at the cat and shuddered. No way she would touch the poor thing.