Smirky Croix slid a hand across her hair, flattening her kinky curls. She’d made the same motion several times during the car ride and half a dozen times since they arrived in the cemetery.
She’s self-conscious about her frizz.
Shee banked the information in case she decided to go full-high-school-mean-girl on Croix at a later date. The girl had her feeling like an angry teen.
Angelina slapped the top of the girl’s leg in what felt like an attempt to break the tension. “Hey, Shee, tell Croix how we met.”
“I don’t give a shit how you met,” muttered Croix.
Shee hefted a clump of dirt behind her.
“Do you remember?’ prompted Angelina.
Shee wiped her brow and sighed. “Of course I remember.”
“Tell them.”
“Ding dong,” said Bracco, pausing to wipe his own forehead.
Shee glanced at Croix. The girl had slipped the earbuds back into her ears, refusing to look in Shee’s direction, but no tinny music filled the warm night air.
Shee stabbed the shovel into the dirt again.
“Fine.”
&&&
Chapter Fourteen
Twenty-Five Years Ago
“You going out?” asked Mick from the bathroom, where he stood shaving in front of the cracked mirror of his crappy motel room.
Shee moved to sit and then thought better of it. The chairs were so threadbare and greasy from wear they looked more like flesh than fabric. Her room, three doors down, wasn’t much better, but if pressed, she’d guess more people had been murdered in Mick’s room.
“We really need to upgrade our hotels,” she said.
“That would mean less stipend money for things more fun than sleeping.” Mick bent closer to the mirror to clean the tip of his chin.
She chuckled. “You’re going to wash out of flight school.”
“What?”
“You lean closer to that mirror every year. Your eyesight is going.”
He scoffed. “I’m still twenty-twenty.”
“Uh huh. But not twenty, old man.”
“Who would want to be? That’s your cross to bear. And don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t answer my question.”
Shee grimaced.
So much for distraction tactics.
“No, I’m not going out. I’m running a cockfight out of my bathroom.”
“The place isn’t that bad.”
Shee grunted. “More like cockroach fight.”
Mick moved to the bathroom’s doorway, toweling his face. “You need to find some people your own age.”
“We’re working.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t unwind.”
“Like you did last night? Ew.” She’d seen him canoodling with a dark-haired woman.
Mick’s cheeks flushed even darker than they’d already grown from his hot shave. He turned back to the mirror for a last inspection. “She’s a nice lady. In fact, I’m seeing her again tonight.”
Shee dropped it. She’d learned years ago her father felt comfortable meeting ladies anywhere. She always booked a room a few doors down from his during their road trips. The only thing worse than waking to the rhythmic thumping of the couple next door, was knowing one of them was her father.
So gross.
She placed a hand on the doorknob to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Romeo.”
Her father called after her. “Go out and have some fun.”
She shut the door.
Right.
In the parking lot, a couple argued beside a Ford Thunderbird the color of baby vomit. From what she could glean through the scatter array of f-bombs, the woman didn’t appreciate the man coming home from work half-drunk. On the other hand, he was up to here (about eight inches above his head) with her nagging. The blue-swaddled baby in the woman’s arms didn’t care either way. He giggled as his mother swung him back and forth. Mommy was like a rollercoaster when she argued with Daddy.
Ah, the glamorous life.
Shee smiled to herself and then realized she’d fixated on the gurgling baby that swang like a powder-blue clock pendulum.
Her mood darkened.
Stop it.
She knew where this rabbit hole led. Self-pity never got anyone anywhere. She wanted a life. She wanted her career.
Mason was better off without her.
They could have ended up being just like the couple arguing outside the motel about diapers.
Though she never would have bought that car.
Shee let herself into her room, flicked on a dim yellow bulb and stood in front of the stack of papers piled on the dresser.
Time to take you down.
She’d started a side project, searching for a rich kid named Scotty Carson, last seen not far from their current location.
Ole Scotty’s proximity was no coincidence. Shee had picked their current target and suggested the motel next to the bar. It hadn’t been hard to talk Mick into it. The job and the motel put her within driving distance of her side project.
She hoped.
A legacy candidate at the United States Naval Academy, Scotty Carson’s Rear Admiral father ensured his son’s acceptance. All Scotty wanted to do was party. He’d nearly gotten himself kicked out for grades twice before accusations of rape surfaced. Rather than face the music, he’d run.
Shee and Mick had been at the USNA in Annapolis, Maryland, when some of the female plebes let her in on the Scotty situation. She’d talked to several of Scotty’s accusers including a few who’d been too scared to officially report. The girls had been physically beaten, raped and emotionally shattered. The women had been strong enough to enter the man’s world of the Naval Academy, only to have hard-fought and well-deserved careers hobbled by the actions of one evil, entitled bastard.
It didn’t take long for Shee to uncover Scotty’s unsavory past. A trail of abused girlfriends led as far back as high school. One ex had gone missing, presumed a runaway, but with Scotty as the last man to see her alive...
How could I not help?
She might have talked Mick into hunting Scotty, but the Navy hadn’t officially asked him
