you.”
Ryan’s spoon rattled as it hit the empty bowl. He snagged a pack of cigarettes from the table, tapped one out, drew matches from the cellophane, and lit up. One drag, then his eyes finally met mine. “You found me. Let’s hoist you on our shoulders and march you around the room.”
“Grow a pair, Ryan. Come with me. Do what you do. What
we’ve
done together for almost two decades. We catch the bad guys. We take freaks like Pomerleau off the streets.”
“Go back and tell your buddies I’m not the guy you need.”
I accessed the flight itinerary and slid my iPhone to him. Ryan studied the screen. “Who paid for this?”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“No way the CMPD’s footing the bill to fly me stateside.”
“Do you have your passport?”
Ryan drew smoke deep into his lungs, exhaled through his nose.
“They want you there,” I said.
“Hope for your sake the fare is refundable.”
“I got a call last night. Skinny Slidell.”
Ryan knew Slidell from a case we’d all worked together years earlier in Charlotte. He said nothing.
“The lab lifted DNA from Lizzie Nance’s clothing.”
Ryan questioned me with bloodshot eyes.
I nodded.
Ryan stubbed out his cigarette with one sharp jab. Slumped back and folded his arms.
“Also, Slidell thinks he may have caught a break in the Leal case.”
As I explained the erased files, the shadows and contours of Ryan’s face seemed to deepen.
“If Pomerleau has taken Leal, she’s stepped up her game,” I said. “She’s now stalking her prey online. One other thing—why Charlotte? I think I know. She’s learned I’m there and she’s taunting me. Sending a message that I can’t beat her.”
I settled back. Waited.
Ryan gave me the long stare.
“Suit yourself.” I snatched up my mobile and dropped it into my purse.
I was outside when his voice came through the screening. “What time is the flight?”
“We need to leave Samara by ten.” Masking my surprise. “I can wait while you shower and pack.”
“I have to see someone before I go.”
“No problem.” Now masking pain. Irrational. The “someone” could be his landlord. His Cheerios source. And Ryan and I had agreed we didn’t work as a couple. Still, the thought stung. Another woman in Ryan’s life? We’d meant so much to each other for so long.
“Where are you staying?”
“Villas Katerina.”
“I’ll meet you there at nine-thirty.”
I hesitated. Did I trust him?
What choice did I have?
My watch said 9:40. I hadn’t given up, but I was close.
9:50.
Of course he wouldn’t show. The bastard was probably halfway to San Jose.
I knew Ryan was wounded, but I’d underestimated the extent of the damage. I wondered if he could ever be whole again. Nevertheless, I was hurt more than I’d expected by the fact that he’d leave me to face Pomerleau by myself.
Once, Ryan would have worried about my safety. About the impact of a case on me as well as on the victims. His paternalism had both annoyed and warmed me. Seeing him made me realize how much I missed that.
A horn honked on the street beyond the wall.
Five past ten.
I wheeled my carry-on through the door and up the path. Estella waved from behind the window as I passed reception.
The driver was leaning on the hood of his taxi. He smiled, took my bag, and placed it in the trunk.
I was climbing in, thinking about the long trip back, about what I would say to Slidell and Barrow, when I spotted Ryan weaving through sunscreen-slicked tourists heading for the beach. He’d shaved and changed into a black polo and jeans. An overstuffed backpack hung from one shoulder.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Out of Cheerios,” he replied.
We passed the next two hours in silence. At Daniel Oduber Quirós International, we checked in, made our way through security, handed in our boarding passes, finally took our seats, and buckled in. Not a word.
I had the window this time, watched as Costa Rica disappeared beneath us. When I
Ryan’s spoon rattled as it hit the empty bowl. He snagged a pack of cigarettes from the table, tapped one out, drew matches from the cellophane, and lit up. One drag, then his eyes finally met mine. “You found me. Let’s hoist you on our shoulders and march you around the room.”
“Grow a pair, Ryan. Come with me. Do what you do. What
we’ve
done together for almost two decades. We catch the bad guys. We take freaks like Pomerleau off the streets.”
“Go back and tell your buddies I’m not the guy you need.”
I accessed the flight itinerary and slid my iPhone to him. Ryan studied the screen. “Who paid for this?”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“No way the CMPD’s footing the bill to fly me stateside.”
“Do you have your passport?”
Ryan drew smoke deep into his lungs, exhaled through his nose.
“They want you there,” I said.
“Hope for your sake the fare is refundable.”
“I got a call last night. Skinny Slidell.”
Ryan knew Slidell from a case we’d all worked together years earlier in Charlotte. He said nothing.
“The lab lifted DNA from Lizzie Nance’s clothing.”
Ryan questioned me with bloodshot eyes.
I nodded.
Ryan stubbed out his cigarette with one sharp jab. Slumped back and folded his arms.
“Also, Slidell thinks he may have caught a break in the Leal case.”
As I explained the erased files, the shadows and contours of Ryan’s face seemed to deepen.
“If Pomerleau has taken Leal, she’s stepped up her game,” I said. “She’s now stalking her prey online. One other thing—why Charlotte? I think I know. She’s learned I’m there and she’s taunting me. Sending a message that I can’t beat her.”
I settled back. Waited.
Ryan gave me the long stare.
“Suit yourself.” I snatched up my mobile and dropped it into my purse.
I was outside when his voice came through the screening. “What time is the flight?”
“We need to leave Samara by ten.” Masking my surprise. “I can wait while you shower and pack.”
“I have to see someone before I go.”
“No problem.” Now masking pain. Irrational. The “someone” could be his landlord. His Cheerios source. And Ryan and I had agreed we didn’t work as a couple. Still, the thought stung. Another woman in Ryan’s life? We’d meant so much to each other for so long.
“Where are you staying?”
“Villas Katerina.”
“I’ll meet you there at nine-thirty.”
I hesitated. Did I trust him?
What choice did I have?
My watch said 9:40. I hadn’t given up, but I was close.
9:50.
Of course he wouldn’t show. The bastard was probably halfway to San Jose.
I knew Ryan was wounded, but I’d underestimated the extent of the damage. I wondered if he could ever be whole again. Nevertheless, I was hurt more than I’d expected by the fact that he’d leave me to face Pomerleau by myself.
Once, Ryan would have worried about my safety. About the impact of a case on me as well as on the victims. His paternalism had both annoyed and warmed me. Seeing him made me realize how much I missed that.
A horn honked on the street beyond the wall.
Five past ten.
I wheeled my carry-on through the door and up the path. Estella waved from behind the window as I passed reception.
The driver was leaning on the hood of his taxi. He smiled, took my bag, and placed it in the trunk.
I was climbing in, thinking about the long trip back, about what I would say to Slidell and Barrow, when I spotted Ryan weaving through sunscreen-slicked tourists heading for the beach. He’d shaved and changed into a black polo and jeans. An overstuffed backpack hung from one shoulder.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Out of Cheerios,” he replied.
We passed the next two hours in silence. At Daniel Oduber Quirós International, we checked in, made our way through security, handed in our boarding passes, finally took our seats, and buckled in. Not a word.
I had the window this time, watched as Costa Rica disappeared beneath us. When I
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