Diamond Girl Page 20

  Hanging with Lindsey at Banion had given me plenty of opportunity to study the processes and procedures; it was my “in” for getting into areas typically not accessible by interns simply because she worked in those restricted areas.

  All I had to do was press my face up against the glass door of the test lab and wave to her; she would immediately buzz me in. We talked - mostly she did while I observed and asked questions that she was happy to answer. She was a sweetie, for sure. I knew there was no way in hell Lindsey knew anything about her rat bastard father’s criminal activities.

  Therein lay the problem. I couldn’t say the same thing about Sunny. Since I had mistakenly assumed that Sunny was married to a truck driver and lived in a trailer park, I wasn’t prepared to honestly and objectively assess her involvement, if any, in these activities.

  My thoughts were in turmoil; my emotions were right there, too, though I fucking hated admitting it. I thought if I ever set eyes on the ‘prick tease’ again I would feel nothing but the need to lash out at her; seek some sort of verbal revenge. I felt none of that now and it pissed me off quite frankly.

  My tumultuous thoughts were interrupted when my doorbell sounded. It was Taz and Donovan. I had summoned both of them to my apartment.

  I opened the door and they both filed in looking none too pleased.

  “You know this is not typical protocol, right Eric?”

  “Yeah, yeah - have a seat. I wouldn’t have called you here if it wasn’t a matter of grave importance. I’m not a rookie, for Chrissake.”

  They both eyed me warily then took a seat on my overstuffed leather sofa.

  “Can I get either of you anything?”

  “Just get to the point,” Taz snapped, twisting his ‘do-rag’ back into place. Taz so loved his role as mean biker gang member. I actually thought he was going to regret when all of this was over, which was supposed to be fairly soon. Now I wasn’t so sure. They were both waiting for me to say what I needed to say.

  “I think I may need to take myself off leading this investigation, guys.”

  “Are you crazy?” Donovan snapped, unable to contain his anger.

  “Hey; I am the senior officer,” I snapped back, “Watch your fucking mouth!”

  “Both of you chill,” Taz interjected; he was forever the calm one. Donovan and I had had our share of disagreements; still it wasn’t his place to question a senior investigator. I knew that there was a major conflict here; protocol said that I needed to make it known to the other operatives. I had already communicated this to my senior operative in D.C., first thing this morning.

  “What’s going on?” Taz asked, his forehead breaking into those frown lines he got when worried.

  “Guess who douche bag is married to?”

  “No . . .”

  “Yep; Diamond Girl.”

  “Who?” Donovan asked, clearly clueless.

  “Jack Dennison is married to the dancer Slate was fucking for a while, Diamond Girl, a.k.a., Sunny.”

  I gave Taz an immediate dirty look for describing Sunny as simply a ‘fuck buddy.’ It was way more than that and he damn well knew it.

  “That’s impossible,” Donovan breathed, now feeling totally stupid that his investigative information was less than mediocre on such a high profile case. “I’ve met with her several times. She was cooperative, forthright and I know that there is no way in hell that soccer mom is a dancer.”

  “Well she is-was,” I corrected, “And she’s pregnant with what may turn out to be my child.”

  “What?” they both said in unison. “Did you also report that?”

  “I did. So you can see why this is a total conflict of interest for me; if for one minute the attorneys’ defending her husband or those fucking bikers got wind of my involvement, it could blow the federal prosecutor’s case into oblivion.”

  “So what are your instructions from DC? We were supposed to serve the warrants on the 5th.”

  “We are to hold tight for a couple of days until revised instructions are provided. In the meantime, gentlemen, I have a 4th of July cookout to attend.”

  “You aren’t seriously still going out with the daughter are you?”

  “We aren’t going out,” I replied tersely. “I cultivated a friendship for the purpose of gaining information. That is acceptable within the parameters of our jobs here, last I heard; I haven’t been instructed to do anything otherwise at the moment. I wanted to fill you two in on the developments and to confirm the ‘sit tight for now’ instructions are followed by you and the others. Do you understand?”

  Donovan and Taz both nodded; both disappointed that things would not be moving as quickly as they would have liked. Neither of them were too keen on the fact that this case which had consumed a great deal of our time for better than two years, first in Virginia and now here in Indiana was stalled once again. They departed with their hang-dog demeanor and my commitment I would be in contact as soon as I received further instructions.

  I dressed in my preppy college garb for the cook-out. I looked at my haircut in the mirror. I was so fucking glad that I had been finally able to cut those long locks off. I didn’t appreciate the hair covering my neck with summer coming. I had removed my earring; and kissed that fucking bandana good-bye once and for all. Taz loved playing that scene; I had been done with it since leaving Manassas, Virginia when our first huge bust went down nearly two years prior.

  That one had been up close and personal for me. I had taken great pleasure in putting those pieces of garbage away for life; they had taken someone very close from me. They had taken my sister, Laney from us with their drug dealings, extortion and violence. I had a personal stake in that one; I had no clue that two years later it would lead me back to Indiana; back to where I had been raised all those years ago.

  I grabbed the keys to my pick-up truck and headed out. It was a good half-hour drive to the Dennison estate. I almost chuckled to myself as I thought about how off-base I had been in my ‘professional’ assessment of Sunny. I prided myself on reading people very quickly and being able to assess their personal situations. I had totally missed the boat on that one.

  She had reminded me a little of Laney; looked innocent and out of place in that club; looked like she needed someone to watch out for her. I had fallen right into that role whether I wanted it or not. I couldn’t help myself where she was concerned. My first impression was one of awe and appreciation. I saw ‘Diamond’ the dancer who looked like an angel, and danced like a born seductress. I had gotten a hard-on just watching her dance. Innocence and lustiness all rolled up into one beautiful chick that could move her body in perfection to the music. I was intrigued; I was more than intrigued - I was fucking amazed by her.

  I needed to shake it off; this was not about me and her at the moment. She had some explaining to do but only after I was absolutely sure that she was not involved in the shit stuff her asshole husband had going. Donovan had called her a ‘soccer mom.’ I wasn’t about to take his word for shit right now. I would have to find this out for myself. If Sunny was involved; Sunny would go down with the rat bastard and all of the others.

  My instincts told me that Sunny was innocent of criminal activities; my heart was counting on it.

  CHAPTER 37

  My mother and father had finally left. I hated to sound that way but my father could wear anyone out. He had done a fairly good job of it this afternoon. First with me (in front of Slate, naturally) going on and on about my pregnancy and hoping for a grand-son; and it’s about god-damn time Jack had me ‘barefoot and pregnant’ again. I had literally felt my cheeks glow red with that remark. I didn’t dare look over at Slate. I wasn’t sure if he had figured it out yet. As far as I was concerned, the S.O.B. could think this baby was Jack’s.

  Then Daddy had kept referring to Slate as ‘Lindsey’s Young Man’ which had made her uncomfortable and kind of pissed me off at the same time. I made a point of checking out Slate’s reaction through my peripheral vision; he remained
cool, calm and collected.

  Jack had simply managed to get drunk and laugh at his own stupid jokes while constantly checking his Blackberry for messages.

  Slate had been eyeing Jack; I busted him a couple of times throwing him a hateful glance when he thought no one was looking. I could tell it pissed him off when Jack would tell me to fetch him another beer; or when Jack made a big production of grilling me about the potato salad.

  “Are you sure you used your regular recipe on this batch, Sammie? It tastes like something is missing.”

  “Yes, Jack; it is the same recipe I always use.”

  “Really? It definitely tastes different to me.”

  “Perhaps the alcohol has dulled your taste buds today.”

  Jack had given me a hateful glare, turning to look at Slate.

  “Hey Eric; don’t feel as if you have to clean your plate there, buddy. Somehow, Sammie has made her potato salad taste bland. No one will be offended.”

  Slate had given him a look, purposely digging into the bowl putting more of it on his plate.

  “Tastes fine to me, Mr. Dennison,” he said with a wink.

  “Jack - call me Jack,” he said once again, tossing back the rest of his beer. “I guess it’s all in what you’re used to buddy. I have a taste for the finer things.”

  My father cleared his throat loudly after that exchange and then stood up.

  “Come on, Joan; it’s about time we head out to the club if you want to watch those fireworks.”

  My mother helped me with the last of the clearing then caught me in the kitchen.

  “Remember what I said Samantha; we will support you in any decision you make. I hope you make one soon.”

  With that, she kissed my cheek and left me standing somewhat stunned in the kitchen. Wow - my mother was more intuitive than I had ever thought. Why now, though?

  I peered out the kitchen window to the deck. Jack had gotten up and was out in the yard with his cell phone up to his ear. Lindsey and Slate were heading into the house.

  My heart fluttered as I wondered if he was taking her out this evening.

  “I’m going to show Eric the house Mom; he really likes your decorating.”

  (Like hell! What is he up to?)

  Slate gave me a warm smile that betrayed nothing.

  “I really love your place, Samantha,” he said, “I can’t tell you how great it’s been spending time here today.”

  “Why thank you, Eric. I suppose your family lives out of state somewhere?”

  “Here and there,” he said in his typical evasive manner.

  “Let’s start downstairs,” Lindsey interrupted, taking him by the arm.

  (Holy shit! She was starting on the lower level where my new suite was located. I wonder if she will call it the 'guest suite'.)

  Thirty minutes later, Lindsey and ‘Eric’ came out onto the deck where I was sitting with Jack.

  “Mom, Eric is getting ready to leave. He wondered if he could take some of your potato salad home. I’m going to fix him a plate.”

  I looked up at Slate and caught the warmth in his eyes as he smiled at me. I blushed, caught off guard by the moment.

  “Hell Lindsey,” Jack called after her, “Have him take it all with him. It probably does taste good to a bachelor.” Jack killed the rest of his beer then handed me his empty bottle. I started to get up to go fetch him another one. Slate’s eyes met mine briefly and they told me to stay put.

  “Yo Lindsey,” he hollered; “Grab your dad another brewsky on your way back, yeah?”

  “Sure thing,” she called out.

  When Lindsey reappeared she had her dad’s beer and a foil covered plate for Slate.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Dennison, thank you so much for having me here as your guest today,” Slate said. “The food was fantastic; the company was mostly great.” He smiled at me when he spoke, his dimple making a rare appearance. Jack stood up and shook his hand. “Glad you enjoyed it, Eric. You’re welcome anytime; don’t be a stranger, you hear?”

  “Absolutely, sir,” he replied, with a wink.

  (Oh my . . .)

  “I’m going to walk Eric out,” Lindsey said, her face not showing as much enthusiasm as earlier.

  “Good evening, Eric,” I said as they turned to go.

  I looked back over at Jack. Something was on his mind; he had been terribly distracted all day. He generally didn’t pound beers the way he had been pounding them all afternoon either.

  “Jack,” I started, “Is everything okay?”

  “Sure it is,” he said with no conviction. His voice was empty. “Everything is just fine, Sammie.” His eyes were blank as they looked out over towards the setting sun.

  I took time in the shower, lathering my skin up and letting the cool water rinse over me. I shampooed my hair and stood under the stream of water contemplating today’s events. The only way to possibly describe it was strange; incredibly strange. I never had the opportunity to catch Slate alone; it was if he had choreographed in that way; always sparking a conversation with someone when they were on their way out of the room just so we would never have the chance to be alone even for a brief moment.

  (Hmm . . .)

  After my shower, I combed out my hair and dressed in a pair of silky shorts with a matching cami top. I slathered lotion on my legs as I sat on the bed. My cell phone rang. It was Brenda.

  “Can you talk?” she whispered.

  “Yes. Why are you whispering, Bren?”

  “George is in the other room. I’ve been dying to know how it went today. Spill it now.”

  I relayed the events of today; including the unusual conversation that had taken place between my mother and me.

  “No shit? Really? That is so uncharacteristic of your mom, isn’t it?”

  “It really is. I hope everything is okay with her and Daddy.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it is, hon. Maybe she finally sees what a rat bastard he is, Sam. It definitely sounds as if she is dealing with guilt over the whole thing after all of these years.”

  “Yeah, but why? I need to get her without Daddy some time for lunch or something. There is more to all of this; I’m sure of it.”

  I sat on the bed and talked to Brenda for another half-hour while I painted my toe nails. She was hysterical about the whole incident with the potato salad.

  “You see, Sam. That is so Jack the way he talks to you; I’m glad Slate put him in his place without appearing to do so. It sounds like Jack was getting kind of trashed.”

  “Yeah, no shit. I’m definitely keeping my deadbolt locked tonight.”

  “What do you think all that was about?”

  “He is worried about something; I don’t have anything concrete to give Donovan though; I mean he has been sticking close to Indy these past few weeks. He never freaking leaves his cell phone around; I think he sleeps with it under his pillow and that is no exaggeration.”

  “Just be careful, okay?”

  “Yep. Got to. I have to take care of Dalton.”

  “Who the hell is Dalton?”

  “That’s the name I’ve picked out for the baby.”

  “Oh geez; you will have that name changed fifty million times before that baby is even born. I recall what we went through with Lindsey, remember?”

  “There weren’t that many names,” I argued.

  “Really? Let’s see: Jessica, Emily, Justine, Kylie, Jill, Jamie, Zoë, Hannah, Rebecca, Anna; need I go on?”

  “No, please don’t,” I laughed. “Okay, I will keep the name to myself until such time as the baby is here and I have my final choice.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “Hey, gotta go. George wants to go to the end of the street. We can see the fireworks from the empty field.”

  “‘Kay, talk to you later.”

  I checked my toenails to make sure they weren’t still tacky before I crawled under the sheets of my bed. They were good. I got up and brushed my teeth, then checked my deadbolt lock, making sure that it was securely in place. It
was close to midnight. I was fairly certain Jack had crashed in front of the television in the master suite we no longer shared.

  As I pulled my comforter back to fold at the foot of the bed, I saw the silver bracelet that Slate had given me for Valentine’s Day on the pillow. It had been in my jewelry box on the dresser. I didn’t wear it when Jack was around not wanting to draw his attention to it.

  I picked it up and saw the note folded underneath.

  My heart fluttered as I opened up the folded piece of paper. The dormant butterflies in my stomach suddenly came to life; they were swarming as my eyes read the words in his neat script:

  ‘Leave the door from your bedroom onto the terrace unlocked leading to your terrace. I have the need to taste the finer things tonight. -S.’

  CHAPTER 38

  I crawled under the cool sheets of my bed after I had left the French doors leading from the outside terrace to my bedroom unlocked. I sure as hell was not going to allow Slate to taste anything until he told me what the hell was going on and I was certain that he was the ‘good guy’ in all of this although I couldn’t see how that was possible.

  I was determined to stay awake until he arrived. I glanced at the clock on my nightstand several times. I was listening to the Bose system that I had turned down softly; it generally lulled me to sleep. Tonight, I had it on a classic rock station as I lay back against my soft, down pillows and waited for Slate.

  I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. It read 1:16 a.m. I listened to the sounds of the Rolling Stones and the classic tune, ‘Gimme Shelter.’

  It’s just a kiss away; it’s just a kiss away . . .

  I drifted to sleep with the sound of those lyrics in my head. Then later, I felt my mattress sink down with the weight of someone else. I opened my eyes and willed that they adjust to the darkness, though I knew who it was.

  I felt his presence right next to me. He said nothing but he knew that I was awake. He molded himself next to me in my bed; he was dressed in black like some ‘summer’ Ninja; black wife beater shirt; black jeans and ever so quiet and panther-like in his movements.