Carmen Morales is a twenty-nine-year-old transwoman who lives in Santa Ana and works for an insurance broker while attending law school at night. She and her two roommates are celebrating the successful conclusion of her spring semester when she is summoned back to the Kern County home she was kicked out of eleven years before, by the Grandmother – “Abuela” – who refused to intervene. Her father has had a stroke and is in a coma.

At Abuela’s urging, Carmen reluctantly takes on the task of temporary conservator for her padre, and makes several trips to Buttonwillow to straighten out his insurance and public assistance issues. After a month, padre begins to show small signs of recovering.

When she first comes to Buttonwillow, Carmen stays with her cousin Kelsey, the only member of her family who had known her secret before padre kicked her out at 17. Kelsey has been living with Dace Gutierrez, the older brother of Carmen’s first crush, Diego. Dace is abusive, and both Carmen and her brother Joaquim (“Ximo”) intervene to stop him from beating Kelsey. He is arrested and released on bail. He comes after Carmen, but fails to catch her and disappears. The police put out an APB to bring him back in.

Carmen’s fifth trip to Buttonwillow includes a highly-charged date with Andar Kasparian, the attorney who had served as the court-appointed investigator on her application for conservator. The following morning, after filling Ximo in on the current status of padre’s finances, she begins driving back to Orange County for another week of work. As she comes down into the Los Angeles basin, however, she receives a call informing her that Dace was spotted in Santa Ana.

For a refresher on Carmen’s family tree, see this post.

Chapter 35: The One You Feed

My hands involuntarily clenched the steering wheel and the Kia jiddered. As first one wheel, then the other, hit the corduroyed pavement on the shoulder of the highway, I jerked the wheel again, getting back into the lane. A car behind me honked loudly.

“Carmen?” Officer Brian Braddock’s voice over the tinny sound system was alarmed.

“I’m here,” I grated out, trying desperately to be calm. “Exactly where was Dace when he was spotted, and how long ago?”

“The Home Depot parking lot, apparently,” he reported. “About ten minutes ago, I think.”

That was still a couple miles from the apartment, but it was way too close, even if Dace was stuck on foot. “Brian – I’m already on my way there, but I’m still an hour out. More, if the traffic gets bad.” My panic was causing my voice to rise, sounding hysterical. “My roommates – Lourdes and Katie – they’re at home now!”

“We’ve got you covered. When the SAPD contacted us, we asked them to send a cruiser to your apartment. If that’s where he’s headed, it’s their best chance to nab him.”

“Oh, thank God! Listen, I can’t pull over to make a call. Can you get a message to them? They need to get out right now!”

“I’ll ask the locals to stop in at the apartment.”

“Thank you! I’ll get there just as soon as I can!”

“If Gutierrez pays a visit to your apartment, it’s not safe for you to be there, either,” he warned. “Let the police do their jobs, Carmen!”

“Of course,” I said, not meaning a word. “If you hear anything else, could you give me a call?”

“Depend on it,” he assured me.

I ended the call and pushed the car faster. Unfortunately, the traffic was getting thicker, and there was only so much I could do to avoid it. I had to slam on the brakes as I came around a wide curve and hit a solid bank of cars that was almost stopped, just near Dodger Stadium. I cursed, realizing that a game must be starting in a half hour or so.

Shit shit shit!!!

I was stuck in the middle lane and we were stopped cold. I took the opportunity to grab my phone from the console and pull up Lourdes’ cell phone. Not caring if I got pulled over, I put the phone to my ear.

One ring. Two. C’mon, Lourdes! Three.

A recording of her warm voice came through the speakers. “Hola! It’s Lourdes. Please leave a message.”

I stifled a curse and tried to get my voice calm. “Querida, it’s me. The police spotted Dace Gutierrez at the Home Depot out on MacArthur Boulevard. They’re on their way to the apartment just in case he’s headed there, but you and Katie should leave now, okay? Just to be safe. I’ll be there in an hour – I hope!”

The car ahead of me moved a couple of feet, and I nudged the Kia forward. “Call me, okay? Love you!” I ended the call.

Katie almost never answered her phone, but she had a watch that would get her texts. I tried that, but got half way through before angry honking informed me that traffic had moved a bit. It was stop and go for the better part of a mile, and every time I tried to look down the car ahead of me inched forward.

Finally I got a short text off. Call me right away – Emergency!

Two minutes passed, and I’d barely moved thirty yards. My car indicated an incoming call and I punched to accept it. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Katie answered. “I’m at Von’s with a cartload of groceries. What’s up?”

I took a steadying breath. “Katie, the police just spotted Dace Gutierrez at the Home Depot a couple miles from the apartment.”

“Wait – that’s the dick pic prick?”

“Yeah, that one. The police are going to swing by the apartment in case he’s headed there – I don’t know why else he’d be in Santa Ana. But you need to stay away, okay? Lourdes, too. I tried calling, but I just got a voice mail.”

“Umm . . . look,” she said, sounding unfazed. “I’ve got a ton of groceries here. If the police are there, isn’t it safe?”

“I won’t feel safe until they’ve actually got cuffs on him!”

“Yeah, I get that, but . . . where are you?”

“I’m stuck in traffic by Dodger Stadium. I should be home in an hour if this breaks up. Might be a bit more.”

“And you’re planning on going to the apartment, right? Even if they haven’t caught him?”

“Katie, I’m at least armed! Please, please, please – I don’t want either of you to get hurt, okay?”

“Alright. Let me see if I can get in touch with Lourdes. She was home when I left, but she might just be taking a shower or something. I’ll call you, okay?”

It was the best I could get from her, so I agreed. The most important thing, in my view, was alerting Lourdes, and Katie was in the best position to do that.

It was another fifteen minutes before I got past the Stadium Way exit, then traffic finally opened up. I pushed over to the fast lane and gave the Kia everything she had. Fortunately for me, it was downhill.

But I was worried sick. Katie should have called me back. It shouldn’t be taking that long to get in touch with Lourdes. Fuck! TALK to me!

I started to see red tail lights coming on again a half a mile away, and I screamed in frustration. No, no, no!!!!

I was back in stop-and-go traffic when the phone went off again. This time, I wasn’t able to keep the fear and panic from my voice. “Yes???”

“Carmen, my love, it’s me,” Lourdes said in her calmest voice. “Everything is fine. The police are here with me, and so far there’s no sign of the man who is chasing you.”

A wave of relief washed over me. “Thank God! Lourdes, if he shows up, I don’t want you anywhere near there, okay?”

“You’re in more danger right now than I am, Querida – I’m sure you’re racing to get back. Don’t. Katie and I are going to put away the groceries, then we’re going out to the Denny’s on 17th Street. Join us there and we can decide what to do. Maybe they will have caught him by then.”

It . . . wasn’t a bad plan. “Will you ask one of the cops to go with you to your car?”

“I will do that.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “Now stop worrying about us!”

“Okay,” I said, my voice shaking. “Okay. I’ll see you in a couple.”

She had a good point – fine, an excellent point! – about how I’d been driving, but I couldn’t help myself; I was frantic to get home. I swore at cars that cut me off, speeding up to ride their bumpers, and growing increasingly frustrated at every virtuous driver who piously decided to enforce the speed limit in the fast lane.

A near-colision with a young guy who learned to drive by playing Mario Kart almost had me in a boiling rage, and again I had to force myself to be calm. Nothing would do more to keep me from getting back home quickly than either getting into an accident or getting pulled over.

It took me another ninety minutes before I finally got off the freeway. Lourdes and Katie called twice to ask where I was. Although I was tempted to go to the apartment to check things out, I knew that wouldn’t be fair to them, so I headed to the Denny’s instead.

Katie was facing the door and she got up slowly when she saw me. When I got to the table she hugged me, hard and fierce, then let go. “Sit. Eat. We’ll talk when you’re ready.”

I sat. They’d ordered me a grilled cheese and a diet coke. I looked at the sandwich for a moment, trying to find my appetite, then shrugged. It’s fuel. Don’t be a God-damned princess. I picked up one of the two toasted triangles, but before I took a bite, I said, “Any news?”

Lourdes had been watching me carefully; she shook her head. “No. They said they’d wait for a while longer, but . . . they won’t wait all night. If he doesn’t show soon, they figure he’s skipped town.”

I thought about that while I worked through the first half sandwich. I couldn’t fault the police’s logic – it’s not like the crime rate in Santa Ana was so low that they could station police outside of a private residence indefinitely on the mere possibility that a criminal will show up. On the other hand . . . .

“How the fuck are we supposed to just go home and go to bed, with something like that hanging over us?” I shook my head. “I hate to ask, but . . . do you two have any place you could stay for a day or two, ’til this blows over?”

“And leave you there alone?” Katie shook her head, almost angry. “Not happening, Carmen.”

“This isn’t your fight,” I tried.

Her eyes flashed. “Who are you talking to? Strangers? Anyone threatens you, it fucking well is our fight!”

Lourdes reached over and captured one of my hands. “If it was one of us, would you leave us to face him alone?”

“No.” I sighed. “No, of course not. But, look . . . maybe it makes sense to get a hotel room for a couple nights. All of us.”

Katie picked up her water glass, but didn’t drink. “I’m not saying ‘no’ – not right off. But . . . he was spotted, so the sensible thing for him to do is run, right? What happens in two days, when he still hasn’t made an appearance?”

“Hotels aren’t cheap around here, either.” Lourdes looked worried, and I knew why. Money was always tight.

“I would cover it,” I said confidently. Far more confidently than I felt, though. It’s not like I had a lot of extra cash, and my trips to Kern County were taking a good bite out of what savings I had.

Which, of course, they both knew.

Katie shook her head. “Doesn’t make sense, Carmen. Sooner or later, we’re going to have to get back to normal. I could maybe see getting a room just for tonight – if we all split it! – but that’s about it.”

Lourdes looked thoughtful. “My parents used to tell me stories about living in Colima, before I was born. The crime was bad. Very bad. Drugs. Gangs. Every day, when they went out into the streets, they worried about being able to come home safe. But . . . they still slept in their own beds, and every day they got up and went to work.” She squeezed my hand. “Compared to that, we have to worry about one bad man with a grudge. We have the support of police who aren’t on the take. Our building is locked, there’s no way to get to our balcony from the ground, and the door to the apartment has a lock, a deadbolt and a chain. I think we should stay.”

People often thought Lourdes was some kind of soft, since she was so gentle. I knew better, and her attitude didn’t surprise me. She didn’t believe in running away from problems.

I suppose I didn’t, either – not that I hadn’t tried, on plenty of occasions! I looked at Katie.

“Makes sense to me,” she said, agreeing with Lourdes.

“Okay,” I said, trying hard not to slump in my seat. “I guess we’d better face the music, then.” I thought for a moment and added, “Dace doesn’t have any reason to associate either of you with me, so let’s try to keep it that way. Why don’t you two go in first without me, then I’ll follow a couple minutes later.”

Katie looked like she wanted to protest, but I preempted her. “It’s not like you’ll be far away, and anyhow, the police are still there. He won’t mess with them.”

That seemed to satisfy her, so we headed out. I kept Katie’s car in view, but when she pulled into the parking lot for our complex I didn’t follow right away. Instead, I parked half a block back, on the street, stayed in my car, and waited.

Katie parked, then they both got out and walked toward the front entrance. They appeared to be chatting away, and I gave them points for walking at a normal pace when my own heart was pounding. They got to the door and went into the lobby without any problem.

I couldn’t see anyone else in the parking lot – nothing but cars. No sign of Dace. No sign of the police, either, and none of the cars in the lot was a black-and-white. Of course, if they were staking out the apartment, I wouldn’t expect them to be that obvious about it.

I did notice a black SUV that wasn’t familiar to me – not that I know everyone in our building, by any means. But even from a distance, I could see that it had darkly tinted windows. So . . . maybe?

I gave it five minutes, then called Lourdes. “Everything okay?”

“We didn’t see anyone,” she confirmed.

“Did you notice the black SUV with the tinted windows, under the tree near the entrance?”

“Oh – sorry! I thought you were asking if we’d seen Dace. Yes, the police are still there. That’s the car they came in.”

I thought about it and sighed. “I guess I need to make sure I don’t break their cover. You have their number though, right?”

“Of course,” she said.

“Alright. I’ll come on in, and we can call them when I get to the apartment.” I started the car, took a right at the light and then a left into the parking lot. There was a spot available in the second row, maybe forty yards from the door, and I took it.

I put my phone into my purse and left the zipper open. I was so tense I stumbled getting out of the car, then I got myself straight and looked around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. No movement. Just another evening . . . .

Right, then. I firmly shut the car door, put my purse strap over my right shoulder, and slipped my hand inside the open flap to firmly grip the handle of my Ruger. It was loaded, I knew. The safety was on. Here goes.

I could not match the nonchalance that Katie and Lourdes had displayed, but I still managed a relatively unhurried walk. Through my row of cars. Across the lane. Through the first row, then onto the sidewalk in front of the building. I was within the line of sight of our apartment, but I forced myself not to look up. Not to do anything that might tell anyone who might be watching which of the balconies was mine.

Ten yards to the doorway. I could see the SUV another few yards from it, deep in the shadows of a leafy California sycamore, but I couldn’t see whether anyone was inside it.

Five yards. Three.

I took my hand off the Ruger and pulled my key card from the outside pocket of my purse. My hand trembling slightly, I put the card against the black key pad, waited for the “click,” then opened the door. Once inside, I closed it behind me – firmly. Though I normally took the stairs, I was shaking too hard and took the elevator instead.

As the elevator started to rise, I leaned against the formica walls, wishing that my heartbeat would return to normal. I can’t live like this.

With a lurch, the elevator stopped, the chime “pinged,” and the doors opened. I pushed myself off the wall and stepped out, hand once again in my purse and on the Ruger. End of the hallway, turn left. Down to the end of the hallway; we had a corner apartment. So far, I hadn’t seen a single person.

The door before ours popped open just as I was passing it, and I almost jumped out of my skin. My grip on my handgun grew painful.

Dash, the adult son of the couple who lived next door, blinked at me through his heavy glasses and smiled. “Hi, Carmen! Didn’t mean to startle you!”

“No hay bronca,” I said, too flustered to code switch. I hurried on without saying more.

Our door opened before I got to it, and Lourdes ushered me inside. Once there, and with the door closed firmly behind me, I was finally able to unclench my grip on my revolver. Fat lot of good it would do me anyway, shaking and twitchy!

They had sensibly drawn all of the shades and curtains, whether before they’d gone out or after they’d come home. I set my purse on the dining room table and collapsed into a chair. “Fuck!”

Lourdes stood behind me and massaged my shoulders. After a moment, she gave way. “You try, Katie – I can’t get through these knots!”

Katie started to dig in – hard. But every muscle I had was giving her a fight.

Lourdes’ phone sounded off with her “public” ringtone and she picked it up after one ring. “Hola.” She nodded. “Yes, this is Lourdes. You are leaving? . . . . I understand. Can you hold a moment? My roommate wanted to talk with you.” After getting confirmation, she handed the phone to me.

Katie stopped her attack long enough for me to take the call.

“Hi, this is Carmen Morales,” I said.

“Stanley Fisher, Santa Ana Police Department. We’re here on a tip from the Kern County Sheriff’s Department. What can you tell me about why they think this . . . Dace Gutierrez . . . might be after you?”

“He was living with my cousin Kelsey . . . or, she was living with him, I guess. I stayed with them for a few days. Anyway, he . . . .” I blushed, then gritted my teeth. “He sent me a dick pic and suggested we get together. I told Kelsey, she confronted him, and he started to beat her up. My brother and I stopped him and called the police. Dace was arrested, let out on bail. When the DA wouldn’t drop the charges, he kind of went nuts. Showed up at the Motel 6 where I’d been staying, then found my car at my padre’s house and slashed the tires.”

“Huh. Got it. How long ago was all that?”

I thought for a moment. Dace went after Kelsey the first time I’d been up, didn’t he? Seems like forever ago! “Mid-June, when he was arrested. The stalking, and the tire slashing – that was just two weeks ago.”

“And no-one’s seen him since?”

“Not as far as I know.”

The officer was quiet for a moment, like he was writing something. Then he said, “You’re sure he knows you live around here?”

“He knew I lived in Santa Ana. It wouldn’t have been hard to find my address – I put it on a bunch of court documents. And Kelsey might have had it, too . . . I’m not sure.”

He grunted. “Well . . . maybe he was chasing you down here, and maybe he wasn’t. But he’s probably run off now, anyways. We’re going to have to go, but I want you to call if you see anything suspicious. Anything at all, understand?”

I assured him I would, then ended the call. Just then my own phone “pinged” to indicate an incoming text.

Hey. Thinking about you. How was the drive?

Andar. I shook my head. What should I say to Andar? I wanted to tell him everything. Tell him how simultaneously afraid and furious I was. Get his reassurance that everything would be alright. But . . . he could no more give that than I could. He was miles and hours away – in a different world. What was the sense in making him worry, too?

I bowed my head, then typed, traffic was a bitch – close to 4.5 hours to get home. Miss you!

A moment later, he sent back, Miss you, too. Sweet dreams!

I sent back a heart emoji, and set down the phone.

“Chica,” Katie said. “You look like shit.”

“I know.” I forced a wan smile. “And it was such a good trip, too!”

Lourdes sat down next to me. “Your date went well?”

This time, my smile was genuine. “He took me dancing.”

Lourdes chuckled, and Katie laughed out loud. “He’s got your number!”

“Yeah . . . he sure does.”

“Well . . . we’ll need to hear all about it.” Lourdes’ voice was soft. Soothing. “But right now, why don’t you focus on that for a while, and get some sleep?”

I readily assented . . . but not because I had any intention of sleeping. Or, at least, not in my bed. Instead, I got myself ready for bed then went into my bedroom and waited until I was sure that Katie and Lourdes were both sleeping. Then I went back into the living room and settled in our one and only recliner, which had a good view of both the front door (locked, double-locked, and chained) and the slider that went out to the balcony. I didn’t necessarily agree that it wouldn’t be possible to scale the wall of the building to reach it.

I tucked a light blanket around myself – normally, we’d just leave the windows open at night, but that wasn’t happening this night, so the AC was on. My Ruger was out on the table, inches from my hand.

I didn’t sleep, but I did doze off a couple times. Whenever I heard the least bit of noise – a “thump” from the hallway, the shriek of a nightbird, a distant siren – I came instantly alert. 10:30; 11:45; 1:20 am. 3:30, and I’d swear I heard a rooster crowing. It’s fricking Santa Ana. We don’t have roosters!

I must have finally fallen asleep for real, sometime after 4:00. My dreams were bizarre mashups of memory and nonsense. Dace and Diego, fighting each other . . . over me? Tia Consola, sharing a bible verse that made no sense. Uncle Javier saying, “It’s HER daughter.” Padre, low and intense. “Squeeze the trigger, Carlos! Don’t jerk it!” Andar singing, “This woman is my destiny.”

Then Katie was sitting on the arm of the recliner saying, “Hey” in a voice that was strangely soft.

My eyes popped open and I reached for the handgun. “Is everything –”

She put a hand on my arm. “Everything’s fine. I moved the gun out of reach before I woke you up.”

I closed my eyes and focused on taking a deep breath, then letting it out slowly. When I opened my eyes again, Katie was still there, looking serious. “You should have told us you were going to do that.”

“I know.” I’d fully intended to be up and showered before either of them got up, but it hadn’t worked that way.

“We’re here to help. All of us, helping each other. Not one of us, protecting the other two. Got it?”

I nodded, feeling sheepish. “Katie, I’m sorry. I just can’t help feeling like it’s my fault you two are caught in the crosshairs here.”

“I warned you about all those frickin’ rednecks up there!” She shook her finger at me, only half teasing, before adding, “But you didn’t do anything wrong. You should be proud of yourself for standing up for your cousin like you did – you and your brother both. The least Lourdes and I can do is have your back.”

I closed my eyes again, feeling the prick of tears beginning to form. “God! What would my life have been like, if you two hadn’t been looking for a roommate?”

“Well, you were kind of a mess,” she said, in a voice that suggested she was giving the matter some thought.

“Seems like I still am,” I sniffed.

“Sometimes. But I’ve had some bad days, too, you know. Beats me why Lourdes puts up with either of us.” I heard – and felt – her get up. “C’mon, Chica. Let’s face the day.”

This time, when I opened my eyes, she was holding out a hand. I took it, and she levered me out of the chair. “Go get a shower. I’ll get the coffee going.”

Rather than releasing her hand, I covered it with my other one, too. “Katie . . . I’m not going to get all weepy here, no matter how tired I am. Just know, I love you.”

I could tell she wanted to let loose a zinger; it was her way. But she checked herself, gave my hands a squeeze, and said, “Love you, too. Now, go!” Her voice was rough with emotion, but she wasn’t going to get weepy either.

I went.

The shower definitely helped, though I kept it short. Katie and Lourdes tolerated me having a handgun – in fact, understanding that trans women faced even more dangers than most women, they felt better knowing that I had it. But neither of them had ever learned how to use it, and I didn’t want to leave them unprotected while I engaged in unnecessary primping.

White nylon blouse over a white bra; high-waisted, pleated pants in a light khaki. Light brown flats. Clean, professional . . . and, nothing that might slow me down, if I needed to move fast.

Katie showered while I changed, and I could hear Lourdes stirring as well. I spent longer than usual with my makeup, because the signs of my lack of sleep were all-to-evident on my face. By the time I was finished, Katie was in the kitchen and Lourdes in the shower.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and joined Katie at the table. She was checking something on her phone and I didn’t disturb her. Then my own phone “pinged,” and I went to grab it.

The text sent a chill up my spine. I know where you’ve been sleeping. I know that you’re awake. I know that you’ve been bad . . . and now you’re gonna pay. The text included a photo . . . of the outside of our apartment building, in weak morning sunlight.

“Shit!!! He’s here!”

Katie was at my side in an instant, and Lourdes came running from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, her hair turbaned on her head.

Katie took the phone from my hand, saw the text, and cursed. “Fuck! That . . . .” Then she paused. “Wait a sec. Send me the photo, will you?” She handed me back the phone.

“I’ve got to call 911.”

“Probably, but I want to check something first.”

I did what she asked, then waited impatiently while she fussed with her phone for a minute.

Then she nodded once, sharply. “Yeah, I thought so. He’s just fucking with you . . . this was taken yesterday.”

“Are you sure?” Lourdes asked.

Again, Katie nodded. “Yeah, the metadata’s still attached to the JPEG – the little shit probably doesn’t even know how to wipe it.”

I shook my head, confused. “But, why . . . .”

Katie shrugged her shoulders. “He knows the cops are after him. Maybe he’s a long ways from here, and this is just a way of blowing smoke.”

“Wow.” I gave her an admiring look. “How did you know to check that?”

“I’d like to tell you I’m a genius, but . . . have you looked outside this morning?”

“No?”

“Wonder of wonders, we’ve actually got some morning cloud. I’m sure it’ll burn off in an hour or two. But I bet he’s too far away to know what the weather’s like here.”

I gave her a big hug anyway. “I don’t care – you’re still a genius. I guess it doesn’t make sense to call 911, but let me call the guy who was doing the stake out and just fill him in.”

I did that, and forwarded the text to him as well. Unsurprisingly, he agreed with Katie’s analysis, but still warned me to keep my head up and report anything suspicious. “Don’t respond to any texts – if he sends you more, just forward them on to us.”

Soon it was time for all of us to get to work. This time, I went up to the common rooftop deck that was part of the apartment complex’s amenities – one we’d used lots of times over the years. I couldn’t see the front door, but I had a good view of most of the parking lot, and I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Although I had the Ruger with me, I knew it would be useless. At this distance, I’d be lucky to hit an aircraft carrier with a snub-nosed revolver. I paced, feeling the unusual coolness of water-heavy air.

Lourdes appeared first, helmeted. She got on her Moped and putted off, looking cute as a button. Then Katie, striding toward her car with her usual confidence. She, too, drove off, and there was no sign of anyone following her.

I waited a few minutes more, watching three or four more people leave, dressed for another day in the many cubes that make the workworld of white collar labor. Finally, I went downstairs, made my way to the car, and drove into work.

Another text arrived a few blocks from work, and I found myself tensing up. Cochino! But when I pulled into the parking lot, I saw it was a nice text from Andar. I sent him another heart.

He responded just as I got into my own cube, and I thought, I’m going to have to tell him. But not yet. Not yet.

When I checked though, the text was not from Andar. It was a photo of my office building with the caption, “Have fun at the office, hon.”

“Son. Of. A. Bitch!” It came out in a growl, but it was loud enough that Gladys heard me as she sailed past.

She stopped. “Everything okay?”

He’s just playing mind games. He’s NOT outside the building. I forced myself to nod.

Gladys looked skeptical, but she moved on.

Katie had a shorter commute than I did, so I knew she would be at the office. I forwarded her the text and asked if she could check when the photo was taken. She got back to me in minutes. “Yesterday, 2:30 pm. Fucker’s blowing smoke.”

I sent it on to the police, gritted my teeth, and tried to get to work. But it was the least productive day I think I’d ever had. I felt like I had to re-read every page three times to make any sense of it. I was angry and brain-fogged and more coffee just made me more tense.

Twice more during the course of the day, I got texts from Dace. The first was a picture of my car with the tires slashed – obviously from two weeks back. He was just reminding me of what he could do. But a little after 4:00, when he’d driven me past the breaking point – exhausted, strung out, and ready to commit bloody murder – the cochino sent me a picture of Kelsey, naked and on her knees. U R next, bitch!

I heard a roaring in my ears and my peripheral vision when dark. Bile rose in my throat, a fountain of acid that suddenly had me scrambling for my trashcan. In a moment I was on my own knees, vomiting up my lunch. How could you do THAT to her? You fucking MONSTER!

The commotion brought the boss running. “What the . . . !”

Gladys was with him; she took one look at me and said, “I got this, Dwayne.” To me, she said, “C’mon, Hon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

I stumbled out of the cube and she took me down to the ladies’, where I was able to rinse the acid from my mouth and hold some cold water on my face. My eyes look bloodshot. Puffy.

“Carmen, you’re not supposed to come to the office when you aren’t feeling well,” Gladys said gently. “I know you’re trying to stretch your out time to deal with your father, but we can’t have you getting everyone sick.”

I shook my head. “I’m not sick.”

“Uh huh,” she said, sounding dubious.

I guess I couldn’t blame her.

“Seriously. I got a text. It was literally sickening.” My voice shook as I repeated, “Sickening!” Even now, talking to Gladys, I was so angry I could barely speak.

“Want to tell me about it?”

“I’m not sure I can just now,” I said tightly.

“Okay, Hon. Just know I’m here if you need anything.”

I nodded, and she turned to go.

“Gladys?”

She paused, her hand on the door. “Yes?”

“Thanks. Just . . . thanks.”

“Any time.” Then she left.

I looked in the mirror and saw a disaster, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. For the first time in my life, I wanted to kill someone. Literally.

But I wanted to hurt him first.

Hurt him. Humiliate him, like he’d humiliated Kelsey. Force him to his knees. And then start shooting. Up close and very personal.

I could feel it, there, at the back of my mind – the point of madness. The pit of crazy that had swallowed me whole, once. I’d scratched and crawled my way out, but every time I thought I’d put it behind me, it reared up again, like a pinche vampire in one of those old movies. I’m baaaack!

“Are you?” I whispered to the scary figure in the mirror. “Well, stick around. You just might be useful.”

I returned to my cube and was chagrined to see that someone had come in and taken care of the mess. The smell, unfortunately, lingered.

Dwayne popped his head out of his office and waved me over. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, keeping a tight rein on my seething anger. “Just . . . dealing with something. Sorry, boss.”

He looked at me closely and wasn’t convinced. “Okay. Now listen. Go on home; it’s almost quitting time. Get some rest. If you need to take a day off tomorrow, take one, understand?”

“Dwayne, I can’t,” I answered. “I’m using all my time on padre’s stuff – and I have to be back this weekend and Monday, too.”

“But you’re no good to anyone here if you can’t think straight, Carmen. You know that. If you need a bit of time, take it.”

I nodded. He was right, unfortunately. Fuck! I SO can’t afford this, right now!

But my dwindling stock of leave time wasn’t important right now, so I packed up my things and headed out the door. Before long I was back home, scanning the parking lot, my hand once again curling around my Ruger. This time, though, I wanted him to be there.

My desire to destroy him was overwhelming. I hungered for it. Be waiting for me, you twisted, sadistic freak. Be right there! I will make you beg, but I will show no mercy. Not this time. Never again.

But no-one accosted me as I marched up to the front door, no-one was in the lobby or the elevator, or the hallways. What a shame.

I hadn’t taken two steps into the apartment when my phone went off. I snarled and looked down to see an incoming FaceTime request.

Just seeing the image on my phone made me tremble. Shook me loose from the darkness that was burning me up. I can’t be who he needs right now. Who he wants!

The phone rang again.

I remembered his voice. His eyes. His decency. While my vengeful demons screamed, “not now,” the part of me that had come alive at his touch pushed back. Andar! I need you!

The phone rang a third time.

I swiped left.

Andar took one look at my face on his screen, and the smile died in his eyes. “Carmen – what’s happened?”

“Oh, God!” I gasped. “It’s been awful!”

I couldn’t help myself. It all came out.

~o~O~o~

“Okay, Chica. Into bed. Now. I’ll stay up for a few hours, then Lourdes. But you need eight solid, got it?”

It was 9:00 pm, and Katie was looking impatient. There was no way they were going to let me get away with keeping watch another night, and I was too exhausted to fight them. My conversation with Andar had been cathartic, and I was almost human again when we ended the call.

But as the hours ticked by I came to the realization I had made a huge, huge mistake. We’d had such a great date – and now, just days later, I gave him proof positive that I was an absolute basket case. Borderline psychotic. Here he’d thought I had courage and integrity!

Lourdes and Katie were sure I was jumping at shadows, but I knew better. I knew how I’d sounded.

Fuck. I am SUCH a loser.

So I nodded my head like a good girl and went into my bedroom, turned back the sheets, and stared at my empty bed. I came so close. So very close.

My cell phone rang. I just can’t.

But I did. “Carmen? It’s Brian Braddock. They got him. They got him!”

My brain momentarily blanked. “What???”

“He tried to steal a car this afternoon in Taos. The New Mexico state police just picked him up, and they’ve got a positive ID.”

“Thank God,” I whispered.

After a moment, he said, “Are you okay, Carmen?”

I nodded, though he couldn’t see it. “Yes. Yes. I’ll be fine. It’s just . . . it’s been a bad couple days.”

“I believe it. But put him out of your mind, now. He’s not going to see the light of day for a long, long time.”

I managed to focus enough to thank him properly. He had gone above and beyond for me, and I wanted to make sure he knew I was grateful. His training sergeant would have been proud of him, I thought.

It wasn’t his fault the news came too late to prevent me from wrecking my new relationship. That was just one more little debit I could add to the account of Dace fucking Gutierrez.

I went out to give Katie and Lourdes the good news.

But before I could say anything, our doorbell rang – the one connected to the downstairs intercom. Maybe they got the wrong guy?

Katie hit the call button, her voice sharp. “What?”

“Is Carmen available? It’s Andar Kasparian.”

Which is how I found myself, not two minutes later, wrapped in the strongest, most welcome set of arms I could ever imagine.

— To be continued

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