Lexie. We’re convinced that the trauma…”
Lexie reared up, shoving his hands away. Her face was a ghastly white. Her voice was a low contained shriek.
“Say it, Jake. Say what the “trauma” was. Give it a name. Say that every bone in his arms and legs was broken! That his hands … and his feet… were cut off, no hacked off! That his throat was slashed…and…and then… they cut off his head.”
Her voice died for a moment, then with a hard glare she faced him.
“And…and then after they had done all of that, they doused him with gasoline and set him on fire.”
Jake closed his eyes, blinded by her rage.
Her voice was a sharp knife.
“You’re telling me that happened after he died, Jake? Is that what you are telling me? And you are how sure of that, Jake? 90 percent? 50 percent? 99 percent? Tell me, Jake. How sure are you? Tell me, dammit!”
Jake’s voice was as ragged as hers. “Darlin’ we’re as sure as we can be. There’s no sign of smoke inhalation in his lungs. No sign he was breathing at the time. My gut tells me …”
She broke in, fury raging across her face.
“Stop! I don’t want to hear. I don’t want to hear any of it! I’m not interested in your analysis. I don’t care what you think you know.”
She pushed away from him and grabbed for her purse.
“I want to go home. Please, Jake, take me home.”
He sighed. His voice was gentle but firm.
“I will, Lexie, on one condition. That for the next couple of minutes you let me hold you. You may not cry, but at least for a moment, let me hold you.” He added, “I might cry. Maybe you can comfort me, and let me try to comfort you.”
~~~
Jake rested against the kitchen counter, trying to coax a smile out of her. “I’m a reasonably good short order cook, Lexie. How about I make us something light for lunch? We can order up a video and crank up that man-sized television of mine. We can spend a quiet afternoon watching movies. Resting. I know you haven’t been sleeping.”
Lexie stood across the room, her arms crossed against her chest, her hands clenched in tight fists. Her pale face gleamed like porcelain, fragile, exquisite. Her voice shook with tension.
“Jake, you don’t understand. I need to be alone. The only way I can… survive, is by entering my practice space.”
As a lifelong Kung Fu practitioner, Jake did understand. More times than he cared to remember, he lay in foxholes in god-forsaken places, including a hideous six months in a POW camp. Entering the detached space where time and circumstance didn’t exist was the only way he survived. The desperation on Lexie’s face mirrored his memories.
He took two steps toward her.
“I understand, Lexie. Honest to God, I do. But let me help you. We can go to the dojo. I’ll get us a private room…we can spar….”
Her voice was fierce, pleading. “No! No, Jake. Please. I need to be alone. I don’t want to be with anyone, including you, Jake. Please, I beg you. Please go.”
Jake stepped back. As much as he hated to admit it, the best thing he could do for her now was to leave. Brady’s team was on duty 24/7. There was no way anyone from the outside could get to her. But those weren’t the demons she needed to fight. The agony raging in her soul was her biggest threat. Jake grimaced. He knew that she was right. The best thing he could do for her was to leave her alone, let her battle the fears and screaming emotional pain racking her. The way to demonstrate that he was confident she’d win the battle was the hardest thing. He needed to go.
He moved toward her, trying not to be offended when she reared back, her face a protective mask. “Give me your cell phone, Lexie.” He took it from her trembling fingers and punched in a code.
He chucked her under her chin. “All you need to do, darlin’ is hit the number one key. I’m never more than ten minutes away.”
He stood at the doorway. “Promise me you’ll eat? You need to keep up your strength. Just so you know, I’m going to be checking on you. If you are up to it, we can have a quiet dinner.”
When she put up her hand and shook her head, he gave her a soft smile. His voice was gentle.
“You’re the boss, Darlin’”
He closed the door behind him and tested the lock. For several minutes, he leaned against the door, not able to leave. Brady, his repairman’s uniform providing the perfect cover for the quiet street, walked toward him from the vacant house they’d snagged for their lookout.
“Everything okay, big guy?”
Jake’s harsh groan said it all.
“She read the autopsy report.”
Brady stuck his ever present cigarette in his mouth. He never lit it, just kept it there in case after five years clean, he’d need to light it up.
“She’s tough, boss.”
“Sure as hell hope so, Brady.”
~~~
After five hours moving from one position to another, forcing her raging body through the complicated sequence of arduous postures, Lexie could breathe without gasping. The physical part of her practice was the easiest. What tested her the most was the effort to move to a time and space where her mind was quiet. Several times during the long afternoon, she gave up, violently attacking the wall, surprised that she didn’t drive her fists or feet through it. If it had been sheetrock, she would have. The fifty year old solid stucco withstood her fury.
During a long shower, her plan fell in place. If it was the gangs that killed Anthony, she needed to find out which one was responsible.
She’d spent several hours the night before walking the streets. Her skanky garb blended in with the regulars. It wasn’t long before she made fast friends with the drugged out women who owned the corners. The biggest operation by far, one shared by several of the gangs, was the
Lexie tested her costume in the full length mirror. She’d learned the
Throwing a saucy wink at her reflection in the mirror, she set out to audition for the part.
Chapter 13
The raucous music roared through the crowded bar. Shouts of laughter and stamping feet caught the beat and drove it through the roof. Lexie bided her time. It’d taken her all of ten minutes to capture the center of the dance floor. She was surrounded by eager, shoving men, most of them soldiers barely out of their teens and a sprinkling of locals sporting cowboy boots and Stetsons. Smiling at the circle of men begging to dance with her, she crooked a finger at one after another.
Her latest choice, a pimply kid who was lucky if he was old enough to drink, jumped into the ring, his eyes shining, his cheeks flushed. Lexie took him by the hand and pulled him up close wiggling her butt against his obvious arousal. A chorus of moans and groans signaled approval as the crowd jockeyed for position. The kid shoved next to
