we had to take her to the emergency room.”
“Your mother?” I asked, surprised.
She nodded knowingly. “My mother. And while we waited out in the lobby, he leaned over to me and said, ‘It’s amazing how fragile the human body is.’ He looked at me then, practically confessing what he’d just done with a single, satisfied expression.” Her gaze turned desperate. “I was scared, Charley.”
I could imagine his face, his blue eyes cold and calculating. “Yolanda, anyone would have been scared.”
“No, I was terrified,” she said, shaking her head. “I could hardly breathe. When I got up to leave, he told me to sit back down. I refused, and he grabbed hold of my wrist, looked me square in the eye, and said, ‘She’ll be in the hospital all night. One stick is all it will take. Her heart will stop in seconds, and no one will be able to trace it back to me.’”
When Agent Carson had told me that over the phone, I’d just assumed he was talking about Yolanda. But he’d threatened her mother. “Yolanda, I’m so sorry.”
Nathan was beginning to sound like Earl Walker, and I wondered if the two were related. Earl would control Reyes by hurting his sister, Kim. Nathan would control his girlfriends and wives by hurting those around them as well. But neither Luther nor Monica had implied that he’d threatened them. They said he was controlling, manipulative, but he hadn’t harmed any of her family. Still, every sign did point in that direction. Teresa’s social activities had dropped to near nonexistent. She had to see her own sister in secret. Maybe he’d threatened them, but Teresa never admitted it, especially considering what Luther might do.
Yolanda’s fingers pressed to her mouth while she took control of her emotions. Sadness had permeated the interior of the car, saturating everything in it. “I sat back down and stayed by his side all night long, scared to death to leave him alone even for a minute. Then when they released my mother, I waited until he went to work, packed my stuff, moved back home, and filed charges against him.” She looked back at me. “But I think, as a way of getting revenge, he tried to hurt my niece.”
I blinked in surprise and angled to face her. “Why? What happened?”
She shook her head as though chastising herself. “It’s silly. I shouldn’t have said that.”
I decided not to push her, but my gut told me her gut was not far off the mark.
“He’s a monster, Charley,” she said, her voice breathy with suspicion, “and I would bet my life he had something to do with his wife’s disappearance.” She frowned hard. “If he couldn’t control her one way, he’d find another.”
Maybe he’d found out about Teresa seeing her sister every day and realized he couldn’t control her as well as he thought. Clearly, his answer to that was murder.
“Anyway,” she said, shaking off the sadness, “I knew I had to come talk to you, to warn you about him.”
“I appreciate this so much, Yolanda.”
“I think it’s so great what you’re doing.” She offered me an excited grin, apparently able to block pain and switch emotions in the blink of an eye. We were more alike than I’d ever imagined. “I mean, a private investigator? That’s like the epitome of cool.”
How sweet. Perhaps I shouldn’t have thrown spaghetti sauce in her hair that one night she was out with my sister and a group of their friends. “Thanks,” I said, all smiles.
“By the way, did you throw spaghetti sauce in my hair that one night I was out with your sister and a group of our friends?”
“What? No,” I said, feigning offense.
She snorted. “You’re not a very good liar.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. It was meant for Gemma. She’d stolen my sweater.”
“Then clearly she deserved a little marinara in her golden locks,” she said with a giggle.
“I know, right?”
I left Yolanda with a hug and a promise that I’d do everything I could to bring Dr. Nathan Yost to justice. But first, I simply had to find Teresa. Whatever he’d done with her, to her, it couldn’t be good.
As I walked back into the building, I looked again to my left, trying to figure out who had been in the shadows before. It couldn’t have been the intruder. I felt no resentment or desire to slit my throat with a big-ass hunting knife. Normally, I might have tried to discover the shadowy spy’s identity, but I was too tired and didn’t much care.
By the time I walked back up to my apartment, Cookie was standing smack-dab in the middle of it, her pajamas askew, her eyes wide in astonishment. She’d probably come over to discuss what happened in Corona and walked right into the war zone. I had no choice but to accuse her.
“Seriously, Cookie,” I said, walking up behind her. She jumped and turned toward me. “Was the cupcake remark really that offensive?”
“I didn’t even hear an intruder,” she said, gawking at the surroundings. “How did I miss this? What if Amber had come over to watch your TV?”
She had a point. “I’m sorry, Cookie.” I started picking up papers off the floor. “Being close to me is sometimes a very dangerous place to be.”
“What?” After my meaning sank in, she said, “Don’t be silly.”
I stood with an armful of notes and magazines. “Okay, but you’re raining on my parade. Being silly is kind of what I do.”
She bent to help me.
“Oh, no you don’t,” I said, scolding her. I took what she’d already gathered and led her out the door. “I’ll do this. You get some sleep.”
“Me?” she said, protesting. “You’re the one who’s taken up insomnia as a hobby.”
Since my arms were full, I nudged her out the door with my shoulder. “It’s not so much a hobby as a burning will to hold on to every ounce of self-respect I have left.” When she frowned, I added, “Admittedly, that’s not saying much. Oh, and tomorrow I want you to check out a Xander Pope.”
“Xander Pope. Got it,” she said without taking her eyes off the chaos. “Wait, why?”
“Because I think something very bad happened to his daughter, and I need to know what it was.” Yolanda only had one brother, so the niece she spoke of must be his. I wanted to know what happened.
“Ah,” she said, nodding. “Do you think Yost had something to do with it?”
“Yolanda does, and that’s good enough for me.”
Chapter 17
Cleverly disguised as a responsible citizen.
After convincing Cookie I was fine and that I had every intention of getting some sleep — not — I spent the rest of the night straightening and cleaning the war zone. I found a book I’d been looking for that I’d given up on finding and bought again. Then I found that copy, as I’d lost it as well and had to buy the book a third time. But I never found the third copy, apparently gone forever.
Mr. Wong was a mess as well. He still hovered in the corner with his back to me, saying nary a word, but he just seemed a bit shaken up by the whole ordeal. Either that or I was projecting.
Even though it seemed nothing was taken, unless the culprit took that third copy of
The little girl with the knife looked on as I cleaned. I’d never considered that she could have been the one who had slashed my tires. I might owe one Mr. Big Fat Liar an apology. Then again, could a spirit slash tires? I tried to talk to her, but she’d have none of it. She watched what I did but never looked directly at me. I considered pushing my luck, trying to find out who she was and convince her to cross, but I felt the need to avoid a stab wound imperative.
