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Burnett stopped at a white van parked out front. “Here.” He handed Chase a cup he’d been holding. “It’s for you. My personal breakfast blend. O negative with some B positive.”
Chase got in. “I’m not really hungry.”
“Drink.” Burnett cut his eyes to Chase. “Eddie says you can be an ass if you don’t feed a little in the morning.”
Chase looked up. “He called?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“I have a plan.” He started the engine.
“And you aren’t going to share it with me?” he countered.
“First we need to catch Stone.”
Frustrated, Chase stared out the window. Then realized he was being an ass. Burnett was helping him. “Thank you.”
“It’s not a favor. It’s what’s right.”
Silence filled the van, and then Burnett spoke up. “This agency does a lot of good, but I don’t always agree with their policies.”
It was the thing he respected about Burnett the most. The man valued rules but bent them when needed. “How do you know when to do it?” Chase asked
“Do what?”
“When to break policy? I mean, do you ask, ‘What would Jesus do?’ or what?”
“Everyone has a moral compass,” Burnett said.
“But not everyone’s is pointing in the same direction.”
“You only worry about your own direction.” He exhaled. “I ask myself, if my ass gets caught, will it be worth it. If the answer is yes, I do it.” He glanced at Chase. “And don’t for a minute think they won’t fire you.”
Chase stared out the window at the blurred landscape: trees, buildings, cars, people. The world hadn’t stopped, so why did it feel as if his had? A vision of a dark-haired spitfire filled his mind.
He hated to ask, but his concern outweighed his pride.
“Any news on Della?”
Burnett didn’t look at him, but his jaw tightened. “Holiday said she still hasn’t come out of her room. Miranda and Kylie are planning an intervention if she doesn’t surface soon. Is she not answering your calls or texts?”
Chase swallowed. “She … asked me to stay away.”
“Sometimes women say shit they don’t mean,” Burnett said.
“Yeah,” Chase said, but she’d sure as hell sounded like she meant it.
* * *
The sun poured through Della’s window, proof that while she felt dead inside, life went on.
It was late. She’d actually slept. Well, some. At least visions of bloody knives hadn’t kept her awake. Not that she hadn’t thought about death. Just not about Bao Yu’s.
Had her aunt accepted the truth that Della’s father hadn’t killed her? Della didn’t know, but she had done her own accepting.
She knew what she had to do.
Getting out of bed, she tilted her head to make sure Kylie or Miranda wasn’t out there waiting to pounce. As much as she loved them and knew they only wanted to help, she didn’t need the hold-hands-and-sing-“Kumbaya” kind of help.
There was only one kind of help she needed.
No noises echoed from the cabin, so Della went to shower. She reached into a drawer and pulled out clean underwear. Written across the front of her high-top panties was the word: “Tuesday.” She recalled Chase seeing her in Monday panties and laughing that she’d had the days of the week wrong.
She remembered telling him it was over.
Not now. Not now.
She finished dressing, and headed to the office to start putting her decision in motion.
* * *
“I do nothing wrong. I clean houses,” the young Hispanic woman said, looking at Chase and Burnett sitting across from them at the hamburger joint they’d followed her to.
Chase saw the fear widening her brown eyes. She kept one hand on the wiggling infant in the baby carrier.
“We aren’t saying you have,” Burnett said. “We just need to ask you a few questions.”
“I file for citizenship. I wait for my papers. But I have to work now, my baby need diapers and to see doctor. Her daddy not help me.”
“Ms. Galvez, we are not with Immigration,” Chase said. “We do not care about your papers. We are investigating the man who owns the house you just cleaned. We need to know about him. Do you understand?”
She nodded. “I do not know him well. I work for him only two months. I get job because I cleaned the house for the señora who live there before. I go to clean the house the day she move out and he see me and ask me to continue to clean for him. He and his friends come and go.”
“How many of his friends stay with him?” Burnett asked.
“Many friends.”
“How many approximately?” Chase asked.
“Sometimes twelve, sometimes eight. House only have four beds. They sleep on sofas and on floor.” She leaned in. “They make big mess. Not very clean people.”
Burnett leaned forward. “How often do you clean the house?”
“Every two weeks.”
“No one was home today, right?” Chase asked, just making sure.
“Right.”
“Is that unusual?” Burnett asked. “Is he usually gone? How does he pay you?”
“He sometime there, sometime not. I like it better when he not home. He leave money on kitchen table.”
“Was your money there today?”
She nodded. “I tell him, no money, no clean.”
Chase looked at Burnett and knew the man was thinking the same thing. No way would Stone leave money for the maid if he’d skipped town.
Burnett looked back at the young mother. “Do you know where he works or where he might be when he’s not there?”
She shook her head. “I not get too friendly with my men clients.”
“But have you seen something in the house that could have told you anything?”
She shook her head. “I sorry, I do not know.”
“Thank you,” Burnett said.
“I go now?” she asked.
“Yes,” Chase said. “And if I were you, I’d stop cleaning for him.”
She stood. “Is he bad man?”
Burnett nodded.
She exhaled and Chase saw in her eyes that she needed the money from the job. She walked away with the baby carrier that almost looked too heavy for her. She didn’t appear to be much older than him.
“Wait.” Chase pulled out his wallet. “Thank you for speaking to us.” He handed her all the money he had in his wallet. Probably only a couple of hundred, but it might hold her over until she found another cleaning gig.
She looked hesitant.
“Please take it. It’s reward money for speaking to us.”
“Thank you.” Nodding, she took the bills from his hand and walked over to the counter to order her lunch.
“I’ll pay you back,” Burnett said.
“You don’t have to,” Chase said.
They started out.
“Sir, sir.” Mrs. Galvez came hurrying over to them. “I just remember. Last month, I take my sister to help me clean. She see Señor Stone and some of his friends at his house. She tell me he has another house next door to one she clean. The next week I ask him if he want me to clean other house, too. He tell me he not own other house. I think my sister has good eyes. Maybe he has a friend who own house.”
“What’s the address?” Burnett asked.
Chapter Forty-seven
“I need your help.” Della dropped down in the chair in front of Holiday’s desk.
Pity, empathy, and a whole shit-load of emotions filled the camp leader’s face. Della could tell the fae was aching to touch her to try to ease her pain. But sometimes pain was a good thing. It forced one to focus on the problem. Maybe even to find a solution.
“You got it,” Holiday said. “Anything. What do you need?”
Della picked up a pen from Holiday’s desk. The words sat on the tip of Della’s tongue. All she had to do was spit them out. She clicked the pen. The tiny noise filled the small office. Click. Click. Click.
“I … I need you to help me plan my death.”
Holiday’s eyes widened. “Anything but that.”
“That’s not acceptable.” Della frowned. Click. Click. Click.
“But Della—”
“You gave me your word that if I tried it your way—that if I attempted to stay connected with my family and it didn’t work, you’d help me fake my own death.” She put her finger back on the tip of the pen. “You even helped Jonathon.”
Click!
“Jonathon’s home life was dysfunctional.”
“And mine’s not? My father thinks I could slice and dice a sweet ol’ neighbor and her husband.” She gripped the pen so tight that she thought she heard the thin plastic crack.