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  “Nixon, are you all right?”

  Nixon blinked several times and looked at the man. “Yeah, yeah,” he said nervously, “I just remembered that I have something to do.”

  The man handed the watch over to Nixon. “I hear you, man. I got to get going myself,” the man said, slurring his speech as he staggered to his feet.

  “Dude, I hope you’re not driving,” Nixon said. He tightly strapped the watch back onto his wrist.

  “Nah, I got a ride waiting outside.” The man extended his hands and Nixon shook it. The man reached for his wallet and paid for the drinks.

  “Dude, we agreed we were taking turns,” Nixon replied.

  “I know. Next time we meet you’re buying,” he said.

  Nixon took a card from his wallet and handed it to him.

  “This is my number. If you’re still around before you leave, shoot me a call or a text,” he told him.

  The man took it and placed it in his pocket.

  “Sure, thanks for the company,” he slurred as he staggered toward the door and hopped into the passenger door of a black vehicle.

  Nixon wanted to research the detectives involved in the warehouse murder case. Because if the stranger at the bar was one of the detectives, then he had a long day tomorrow as well. But for now, he had other important matters to tend to.

  Nixon left his drink and rushed outside. He wanted to be in a quiet place. He walked the quiet street, not making any noise, and raised the volume to listen to Barbara’s voice closely. He swayed to the rhythm and marveled at the sound.

  Her voice was so soothing. He hadn’t known she could sing so well. He was intrigued enough to keep listening, even though he knew that he was prying into an intimate, private moment. He carefully opened the door to his apartment and slipped quietly inside to his bedroom listening to her voice, unable to move. He couldn’t stop himself, so he let her finish the song.

  He turned on the volume so she could hear him. “Barbara?” he called to her once she was done.

  “Nixon? Where are you? Are you in my place? How did you get inside?” she asked.

  A mischievous smile crept across his face. “I’m not technically inside your place. You still have the device implanted in your ear,” he told her.

  “Oh, I forgot about that,” she said.

  He paused for a second. “I know, I did too until I heard you sing. It was accidentally activated,” he told her.

  There was a long silence and he thought that he had offended her. But she spoke. “That was a private moment you just listened to,” she said calmly.

  He was relieved that she hadn’t taken offense to his intrusion and had still decided to speak to him.

  “I know. I didn’t mean to pry but you caught me by surprise as well. Your voice and that song was very melodic and calming. I didn’t know you could sing so well,” he said.

  “I don’t tell many people that I can sing. That’s one of my well-kept secrets. My father was the only one who knew. It was one of our favorite songs. Some people cry, others rock themselves, read, or sometimes watch TV to sleep. I sing when I have a hard time sleeping,” she said.

  “That’s good. I tend to work and organize things when I can’t sleep,” he said.

  He wished he were there to comfort her in his arms. But he didn’t dare tell her that. He didn’t want to push her away again.

  “I like it. Can I ask you something?” he asked.

  “What is it?” she asked wearily.

  “Can you sing it again?” he said.

  There was a brief silence and then a rustle but without saying a word. The melody flowed through his ear as Barbara started singing the first verse.

  “I waited till I saw the sun. Don’t know why I didn’t come…”

  As she sang Nixon sat at his computer desk and began his research.

  Chapter 11

  Reagan’s recital was lovely, Barbara thought as they were all gathered at the dining table finishing up their meals.

  Dinner was great, but the tension in the room was awkward. Barbara wanted Nixon but she couldn’t show it. Nixon wanted her and he would hint at it every chance he had.

  Lori felt the heaviness in the room, but she didn’t mention anything.

  Barbara sabotaged potentially good relationships to settle for the shitty ones. The ones she could walk away from because leaving them was easy, knowing that they weren’t worth her time. She didn’t feel attached in any sort of way to any of her past relationships. She honestly couldn’t remember why she was no longer with any of them, but she knew that she would never be the one with a broken heart. She didn’t want to depend on a man, especially emotionally, to be left behind mending old feelings just like her mother when her father left them. She’d vowed that what her mother went through she would never experience.

  But with Nixon it was different. She wished it could’ve been simple, but she was complicated, and her life was chaotic. At least knowing that she had a problem was half the battle—now overcoming it was the difficult part.

  “Ahem.” Lori cleared her throat. “Does anyone care for dessert?” She got up and walked to the kitchen.

  “Oh, yummy, dessert. Can we have ice cream and cake, Mommy?” Reagan asked, licking her lips.

  “Yes, but you can only choose one. I don’t want you to stay up late with a sugar rush,” Lori said.

  “Mommy, what’s a sugar push?” Reagan frowned, looking at Barbara for confirmation.

  “It’s sugar rush, butterfly,” Barbara said. “That’s when you can’t sleep because there’s little ants dancing in your pants.”

  Barbara tickled her and she burst into laughter.

  “Okay, ice cream with one scoop, please. I don’t wanna have ants dancin’ in my pants. Yuck!” Reagan said. She shook her head and pursed her lips.

  “None for me. I’m full,” Barbara told Lori.

  “I’m not in the mood for ice cream today,” Nixon said. He leaned back in his chair and looked at Barbara.

  Barbara stared at him from across the table.

  “Nixon, can we take a walk?” Barbara asked him.

  “Can I go outside too?” Reagan asked. She was starting to stand from her seat.

  “I need to speak to you in private,” Barbara whispered to him.

  Barbara reached for Reagan’s hand before she could make a dash for the door. “I’m sorry, butterfly, I have to talk to your cousin Nixon alone. Besides, if you go outside you won’t be able to enjoy your ice cream. Don’t you want your vanilla ice cream, maybe with a few sprinkles on top?”

  Reagan sat, thinking about her options. She squinted and furrowed her little forehead. And a few seconds later she came up with her choice. As if her life choices were so difficult. Barbara remembered when her choices went from either studying for science or math first to choosing between her career or caring for her ailing mother.

  “Um. I pick ice cream,” Reagan said. Reagan’s choice was simple and Barbara wished to one day maybe have her own choices simplified.

  “Good choice, butterfly,” Barbara said, ruffling her hair. Barbara kissed her cheek and walked to Lori in the kitchen, grabbing the bowl of ice cream Lori had prepared for Reagan. “Lori, thanks for dinner. I really did miss your company.”

  “Whenever you need to talk just come by or call me.” Lori winked.

  Barbara placed the bowl in front of Reagan, who smiled. She grabbed her spoon and dug into the sweet hill of vanilla and rainbow sprinkles.

  “I will, like old times,” Barbara told her.

  “Thanks for coming to Reagan’s recital. This meant a lot to her and to me. Having you around is nice.”

  “Yes, hanging out with you all was refreshing.” She meant every word she said to Lori.

  Barbara grabbed the rest of the plates from the table and walked them over to Lori in the kitchen, placing them in the dishwasher.

  Lori hugged Barbara as soon as she was done. “I mean it, Barbie doll. Call me. I would call you, but every time I t
ry you have a new cell number. At this point I can’t keep up with you anymore. I don’t want to feel like I’m begging for a friendship when you don’t want to be there for me as well.”

  Barbara sensed that Lori wanted to tell her more than she admitted. But Barbara’s selfishness prevented her from asking. Either Barbara wanted to protect her from getting involved in Lori’s life, or she wanted to distance herself and not feel guilty about knowing and not helping. She didn’t want Lori to think that she didn’t care, but her situation was getting harder to explain to Lori without getting her involved in her life.

  But Barbara knew that living alone was not ideal and that she needed Lori as she missed her in her life. She would make an effort to get their friendship back on track. But first she needed to regain control of her life, leave the corrupted life she led, and possibly continue with her nursing career as she’d promised her mother.

  “I know. I’m trying. I have some things I need to sort out and I promise we’ll go back to be the besties that we once were,” Barbara said.

  Barbara was becoming more paranoid and everything was getting to her. Her hands were clammy, her smile weary, and her eyes had a hint of fear. She definitely needed this last job to go as planned so she could lead a better life.

  Nixon was waiting by the kitchen entrance. “Are we still going outside or what?” he asked.

  “I got to go, but I’ll keep my promise. Just don’t give up on me just yet,” Barbara told Lori.

  “I’m not, but whenever you get back to me, I want all the details, because I have news for you too,” she said, smiling. “Now go before he kills me for keeping you any longer.”

  Barbara gave Reagan one last peck on the cheek before she headed out the door. Barbara could taste the vanilla, as her cheeks were covered in vanilla ice cream. “Enjoy your ice cream, butterfly,” Barbara told her.

  “I will, Barbie doll,” she said while ice cream dripped from her mouth.

  “Sweetie, I told you not to talk with your mouth full,” Lori said while cleaning Reagan’s face with a clean towel.

  “Sorry,” she said as more ice cream dripped.

  “Oh, Reagan, what am I going to do with you,” Lori sighed but smiled.

  Barbara walked out into the hallway, looking back, making sure Nixon was behind her. His reluctance to follow would confirm that whatever had transpired between them had never happened and that they were better off as business acquaintances than as lovers.

  They stepped into the warm night. A few streetlights and a couple of store lights remained lit. Saturday nights were crowded with nightlife. The people looked to be on their way to the nightclub around the corner. Probably a local band was playing that night.

  They walked side by side into the crowded street. The atmosphere reminded Barbara of a festival night, where everyone was dressed up in costumes and in a hurry to get somewhere.

  The brisk warm air engulfed her body and caressed her face. She hadn’t enjoyed the feeling of being free and not caring about anything or looking over her shoulder in a long time. For whatever reason that night felt calm. Maybe it was hanging out with Lori and spending time together. Maybe it was being near Nixon and maybe letting go of the notion that their relationship could go further. But she knew that it wouldn’t work—she needed to separate her romantic life from her work life.

  A few more moments of silence and they stopped at the corner.

  “Before you say anything, I want you to know that regardless of what you have to say, I’ll always be there for you,” Nixon said. “I liked you the first time Lori introduced us, and I’ve loved you from afar. If you want to place distance between us that’s fine, but don’t ask me to pretend that you don’t want me or that you don’t have feelings for me because I’d rather die than believe that. I’m not sure what monster you’re battling but we can beat it together, not apart.”

  “You’re making it difficult for me. I’m not asking you to pretend, I’m asking you to forget. I don’t want to lead you on. I’m not stable, my life isn’t in order, and I can’t give you what you deserve. Maybe one day we can, but right now I want things to be strictly professional. I care about you and this is why I need for us to stop,” she told him.

  “I know what you do. Hell, I’m helping you with it. You can’t tell me that your life is complicated because my life is complicated too,” he said.

  “I’m not going to give you a life lesson or plead with you because we’re both adults. There are some things that I want to get in order first. I can’t promise you anything right now.” Barbara reached for his arm.

  He nodded, but she knew that her words hurt his heart. He approached Barbara, grabbed her by her waist, and hovered his lips over hers. His warmth engulfed her, and his scent trapped her. She closed her eyes and parted her lips, anticipating his soft lips on hers for that first kiss.

  “When your heart stops beating, your adrenaline stops pumping, your eyes stop longing for me, then I’ll believe that you don’t want us to happen,” he said.

  Instead of kissing her he left her standing on the sidewalk. She felt like a fool waiting for something that she’d told him she didn’t want.

  I just royally fucked our relationship, she thought.

  Chapter 12

  The conference room at the sheriff’s department might have been as cold as an icebox but McKinley’s excitement when he pressed the end call button from their call with their witness could’ve stripped away the many layers of snow in the Himalayas. He sat back in the leather chair with a grin plastered across his face, radiating a warm glow that would’ve melted the room in seconds.

  Finally, we’re getting somewhere,” McKinley said with a smug look of satisfaction on his face.

  “I know,” Coolidge sighed, “at least the sixth person on our witness list answered and agreed to meet with us.” She sat back on the chair.

  “Yeah, but we still have four more and hopefully it won’t take three days to get another witness to give us a statement.”

  Coolidge nodded. “I was on the verge of trashing this so-called witness list into the corner with the other pile of trash we’ve thrown out.”

  McKinley chuckled. “Well, I’m glad we both don’t have to go through the torment of that scene.”

  “I like how you enjoy making fun of my small triumph.” She threw a crumpled paper at him and he caught it midair.

  “What can I say. I learned from the best.” He threw the paper in the trash.

  “Come on, let’s not keep Mr. John Doe, as he called himself, waiting,” Coolidge said.

  “Yeah, couldn’t he have picked a better name? We get that he doesn’t want to implicate himself by having his name published on the reports or in the news but really, John Doe.”

  Coolidge shrugged. “Who knows, but one thing we do know is that he’ll be sitting alone in the back of the shop with dark shades and a black and gray fedora hat.”

  They both gathered their files and briefcases and left to meet John Doe.

  They met him at the coffee shop at three o’clock in the afternoon as agreed. He was sitting alone sipping coffee from a large white mug in the far end of the crowded shop. They didn’t bother to order anything and just wanted to get information on the case. They walked around the few tables that had people chatting, sipping coffee or tea, and others working on their laptop.

  They walked toward the man with the fedora hat. His dark skin was a stark contrast to the white mug he nestled between his hands. His long fingers wrapped around the white coffee mug cradling it as if keeping his hands warm over a wood burning fire.

  He peeked up from his cup and McKinley instinctively knew it was him they were looking for. Coolidge and McKinley approached him and sat across from him. They tried to blend in as much as possible to distract the patrons from the conversation that was about to take place.

  “Mr. Doe?” McKinley asked, looking down at the man who was sitting. He glanced at them for a second and looked at his hands on the table.


  It was hard to decipher his facial features from the hat he was wearing and the large dark shades covering his eyes. But one thing was for sure, his long black beard was very distinctive. It was jet black and it had a glowing sheen to it which sparkled every time he moved. It was like viewing a diamond under a microscope and watching the light bounce off from it as it glimmered. If McKinley ever saw that beard again, he would recognize it in a heartbeat. Just to make sure McKinley studied his mannerisms, his low monotone voice, and his movements.

  “Yes, that is the name I go by. So, you two must be Agents Coolidge and McKinley?” Mr. Doe asked.

  “Yeah, that’s us,” Coolidge replied. “May we sit?”

  John Doe nodded. Coolidge and McKinley pulled out metal chairs that clanked against the cement floor and sat next to each other.

  McKinley took out his small recorder and placed it on the table. This time he thought ahead.

  John Doe stared at the device. “I don’t want my voice recorded,” he said. “I’ve heard things about informants who were recorded and nothing good came out of it.”

  He never once made direct eye contact with either one of them. He reached in his pocket and took out a small round metal trinket and started twirling it nervously.

  “You know that if we need to make this statement sound in a court of law, you will need to supply your full legal name and sign an affidavit,” McKinley cautioned him.

  “I’ll provide that information once it is sure that the perpetrator is caught and trial is underway. For now, I want my statement to be off the record and no recording. Otherwise I’m walking out of here and you’ll get nothing.” John Doe reached for the recording device.

  “Fine,” McKinley hesitantly agreed. He snatched the recorder and placed it in his briefcase.

  Coolidge took out a notepad.

  “What are you doing?” John Doe asked as he looked at Coolidge. “What is she doing?” he asked again with sternness in his voice.

  “She’s going to handwrite what you’re saying for our report. Even though you don’t give us a signed statement this will help us to detail the events,” McKinley said.