The Woman Who Couldn't Scream

  She was making fun of him, and Venegra was smart enough—barely—to know it. “At least you’ve done one thing right—you had the good sense to bring Garik Jacobsen into the case. Maybe our former sheriff will come back and catch the murderer before he kills again!”

  In a voice that would have frozen a normal man, she said, “Garik would not so overstep his authority.”

  “Well, maybe we’ll just vote him in after the citizens of our fair city impeach you!”

  That’s it. I am done with you. Kateri stood up and offered her hand. “Let’s shake on that.”

  Venegra grabbed her fingers and squeezed. Hard.

  Kateri dragged seething fire, molten rock, ocean-cold, angry-red power up from the earth and let it flow through her and into him.

  First Venegra started trembling.

  The earth jolted hard and fast, a brief movement the seismologists would categorize as an aftershock to the big one that had reshaped Virtue Falls.

  Venegra’s eyes grew wide.

  Kateri pulled her hand away before she wholly gave in to her temper—and brought the walls down.

  He flopped backward into the chair, his gaze fixed on her in horror.

  With a fixed smile, she reminded him, “I did say, ‘Let’s shake.’”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Kateri texted Merida. Okay?

  Merida texted back, No worries. I’m fine.

  Have errands. Will be there as soon as I can.

  Headed out for a run. See you soon.

  Merida left the B and B and ran a mile through Virtue Falls, then took the cutoff that descended toward the beach and there along the fringes of the sand, she hopped along the rocks and the old dock pilings. She did her yoga, made like a tree, stood on one leg, then the other. In a silly departure from discipline, she became a pelican and waved her arms. It was perhaps childhood reborn, but in those moments she gained balance and dexterity—and she tasted freedom. Freedom from memory. Freedom from worry. Freedom from anger and vengeance. Just … freedom.

  Slowly she stilled. Exuberance changed to introspection.

  She’d been here for less than a week, yet last night she had encountered too many people who knew her as Helen. Then early this morning someone had called her, warned her that “they” were hunting her, and today worry replaced joy and mindlessness. As she stood there, facing the ocean, she found herself listening, not to the waves ceaselessly rolling, but for the sound of footsteps behind her. Serenity had never seemed so far away, so at last she turned back, running hard up the path, testing her limits for speed and endurance. She turned onto the street where the B and B stood, saw a man jogging toward her, shirtless, in shorts, shirtless, beautifully sculpted, shirtless … Lifts weights, shorts are too long, almost to his knees, such a shame, those thigh muscles must be awesome …

  Benedict, of course.

  He lifted one hand in recognition and ran past her at a pace that made her feel like a sweaty underachiever.

  She turned and ran backward—it was good exercise—and watched him.

  “Wow.” For a ruthless, conniving asshole of an autocrat, he looked good, probably because he had time left over from impaling his competitors to exercise.

  He rounded the corner and headed for town, and he didn’t turn to glance back.

  “Damn it.” She slowed to a walk. She was looking at him, and he didn’t care to look at her. She turned to face forward, glimpsed movement out of the corners of her eyes.

  A man hid in the hedges.

  She leaped sideways, but too late.

  He yanked her into the shadowy yard through a narrow gap in the towering boxwood.

  She fought. Branches scraped her skin.

  But he was powerful and skilled. He rendered her helpless, pulled her close and in a deep, familiar voice said, “Helen, I did warn that you couldn’t scream.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The Gem Lounge hadn’t changed a bit. It looked—and smelled—exactly as it had when, as a child, Kateri had crept in nightly to bring her mother home. Years of spilled beer, squeezed limes, tomato juice and Tabasco, cracked vinyl, the dishwasher’s steam … and a whiff of tobacco.

  Maybe Bertha wasn’t paying that much attention to the smoking ban.

  The afternoon crowd was quiet, fishermen mostly, early risers, intent on playing cards, cracking peanuts, having a beer before going home to bed.

  Kateri lifted a hand to the guys, went to the bar and pulled up a stool. Today Bertha wore black boots, black leggings, a black cardigan and a purple collared shirt. Kateri envied the woman her style.

  “Hey, darlin’, good to see you here.” Bertha got out a mug, poured it full of almond milk and slid it into the microwave. “Did you decide I was right and this was a good place for that sheriff to visit?”

  Kateri watched her, knowing what Bertha was doing, appreciating the tradition and right now, needing the comfort. “You’re always right, Bertha. Everybody knows that.”

  Bertha smirked. “That’s true, and it’s amazing that people don’t always do what I tell them to do.”

  “The world would be a better place.”

  “Now take off your hat inside.”

  Kateri complied, setting down her sheriff’s wide-brimmed hat on the bar.

  “Hey, Sheriff.” Berk Moore slid into the seat beside her. “How’s Rainbow?”

  “I haven’t been in to visit her yet today. Things got hectic.” An understatement. “But last night she was ’bout the same.”

  “Sorry. Really. That sucks. Geeze. I can’t imagine…” the Oceanview Café without her. He didn’t say it, but the words hung in the air.

  Bertha whisked chocolate into the milk, topped it with marshmallow cream and slid it across the bar to Kateri. “How’s you?”

  Kateri pressed her hand to her ribs. “’Bout the same. Sleeping in my own house, though. That makes me happy.” She pulled the hot chocolate close, sipped and sighed with pleasure. “So does this.”

  “I know, darlin’.” Bertha was watching Kateri a little too closely.

  “There’s nothing like your own bed,” Berk agreed.

  Kateri licked the marshmallow cream off her upper lip. “Berk, how’s business?”

  “Not much new construction. You know it’s about impossible to get permitted. But plenty of remodeling.” Berk owned a construction company in town. “With the dry summer weather, we’re hustling.”

  “So why are you in here?” Kateri didn’t expect to like the answer.

  Berk pulled off his baseball hat and ran his hand over his bald head. “I heard a rumor and when I saw the sheriff come in here, I thought I’d follow along and ask if it was true.”

  Kateri sighed. Small towns. Everybody knew everything about five seconds after it happened. “It’s true. We lost a tourist last night.”

  Bertha put her hand on her skinny hip. “Something tells me it wasn’t another dumbass who walked off the cliffs while he was texting.”

  “No, although we did have one come into the police station yesterday to demand we retrieve her phone from the ocean.”

  Berk and Bertha cackled.

  Then Bertha sobered. “The way you’re acting, I’m going to guess it’s another slashing.”

  “Yes.” Kateri pushed the half-finished chocolate away. “He, um, finished what he started with Monique.”

  “Slashed her neck?” Bertha guessed.

  “Slashed around her face.” Kateri gestured in a circle around her own face.

  “What?” Bertha got loud.

  Heads turned.

  Bertha leaned across the bar. “What?” she whispered.

  “Exactly what I said. Head wounds bleed, you know? I don’t ever want to see that again.” Kateri reached across and took Bertha’s hand. “Listen, if this is John Terrance, and even if it’s not, you’re the sole witness to Monique’s attack and I’m worried about you.”

  “I know, honey. But I’m not leaving town, and I’m not leaving my bar.” Bertha was implacabl
e. “No little prick with a box cutter is going to chase me away from my home.”

  “I figured you were going to say that … Got any objections to the occasional police presence?”

  “Not at all. I’ll give ’em peanuts, jerky, hot chocolate and maybe even iced tea.” Bertha crossed her fingers and her heart. “No liquor for the boys in blue.”

  Kateri slid off the bar stool. “You take care of yourself, Bertha.” She turned to Berk. “You, too. John Terrance worked for you once upon a time, and you fired him.”

  Berk turned a lovely shade of green.

  Kateri said, “All of us, no matter who we are, need to be careful.”

  Kateri thought he’d turned green because he was considering how John Terrance might get his revenge. But the way Berk stared at the door made her look, and she recognized the form silhouetted against the light.

  Luis Sanchez, the current Coast Guard commander. He had served under her when she held the post. He had been a steadfast friend through the horror of her drowning and the constant, dreadful effort of recovery. He had been her most constant friend … and then, almost lover.

  That was when things got awkward.

  Luis headed for Kateri. He was Hispanic, tanned, not too tall, toned, moved like a dancer and a dark curl of hair caressed his forehead. It was miracle any woman ever resisted him.

  Kateri had been so, so lucky.

  Berk, the lousy coward, said, “Gotta go to work. Talk to you later, Sheriff!”

  Bertha, the other lousy coward, moved to the far end of the bar and started assiduously polishing the glasses.

  Even the fishermen leaned back in their chairs as if they viewed a possible blast zone.

  Luis pulled up the stool Berk had so recently vacated. He leaned close and quietly said, “I’ve got news about John Terrance. Maybe.”

  Kateri sat back down. This was the best news she’d had in two days and it was delivered by a man who was all business. “Tell me,” she said.

  “Last night, a bunch of idiots, group of about twenty, were partying down on the beach. They had their zoom-zoom fast boat tied up against the rocks. They had a fire, they were smoking weed, drinking I don’t know what. A lot.”

  Bertha called, “Commander, you want something?”

  “The usual.” Luis kept talking, his dark eyes fixed on Kateri with all the fiery excitement he had once displayed in his courting. “If I’ve got this right, this guy stopped in for a drink before he made his move. Then he went over and untied the boat.”

  “It was John Terrance?”

  “Description matches. The group was laughing at him, teasing that he didn’t know how to drive that thing.”

  Bertha placed a cold beer with a tequila chaser at his elbow. “I’ll bet that pissed him off.”

  He took a long swallow of the beer. “They’re damned lucky that vicious sonofabitch didn’t kill a few before he drove away.”

  Bertha retreated, but not far.

  Incredulous, Kateri asked, “They watched him drive their boat out into the Pacific Ocean? What time?”

  “You know drunks aren’t good with time.”

  Kateri most certainly did.

  He continued, “They reported it to the Coast Guard this morning when it was finally clear the boat was not coming back either with the guy or on its own.”

  “Did he hot-wire it?”

  “Of course not. They left the key in the ignition.”

  Kateri found herself shaking her head back and forth, back and forth like a bobblehead doll. “No sign of him or the boat?”

  “I’ve got a cutter out looking, but the man has been manufacturing meth for years. He knows this coast as well as we do. He could be anywhere.”

  Kateri thought of the dead girl. “He could be back on land. If we had any idea of the correct time, we could figure if he’s a suspect in the murder.”

  Luis knew about the murder; all of law enforcement in this part of the state knew about the murder. It made everyone itchy, and they were starting to squabble, to place blame.

  Kateri was first in line for blame. “I’ve done so much wrong with this case and yet—I don’t know what I’d do differently. Except keep an eye on the Terrances while we were arresting the school board and the city council.”

  “Sometimes there’s no right. You know that. You’re doing what you can. We’re all doing what we can. It’s just not enough.” Luis finished off the beer, picked up the shot.

  Kateri couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand to see her friend so frustrated he was drinking in the middle of the afternoon and while on duty. She put her hand over his.

  He froze in place, staring down at her fingers.

  “Luis, for so long, you’ve been one of my best friends. After all we’ve been through, can’t we salvage a remnant of that affection?”

  He traced one of the myriad of scars that crossed her hand, reminders of the tsunami, and the frog god, and broken bones and pain and recovery that would never end. “I don’t see how that’s possible. You know what I wanted from you.”

  He was pouting. A very handsome pout, but a pout nevertheless. “And you would have won me, if not—”

  He pulled his hand away. “Are you going to nag me about that forever?”

  Kateri’s grasp on her temper was usually good, but he was being a pig. “You were dating me and you slept with Sienna.”

  “Only once!”

  Bertha edged closer. Sienna had come to Virtue Falls as an ambitious young graduate. She had quickly opened a sandwich shop, then a pizza shop, and now it seemed she owned all of Virtue Falls. That was, of course, totally untrue. But she did own Luis, in ways Kateri did not choose to imagine.

  Kateri said, “It’s not a matter of degrees, Luis. Once is unforgiveable.”

  “Sienna and I have a casual relationship.”

  “That’s great, as long as it’s okay for the two of you.” Kateri thought Sienna would be surprised to hear her relationship with Luis was casual; that young woman was beautiful, spoiled and determined to have him. “As long as I’m not involved.”

  Luis must have decided he was losing this argument, because he went on the attack. “After putting me off for weeks, you slept with another man. As soon as you got the chance!”

  You started it! Kateri bit her tongue. Pretty soon they were going to be slapping at each other like two squabbling toddlers. “Sienna thought she was pregnant. You thought you were the father. I considered that infidelity. You got engaged. I was therefore free to do what I wished.”

  Bertha had her back to them, her elbow on the bar, but by the way her head was cocked, Kateri knew she was listening with all her might.

  “You wanted to do … him? You slept with him after one night! Stag Denali. For fuck’s sake. A gambler. Is he a casual relationship?” Heedless of Kateri’s rising temper, Luis charged on in a voice that carried across the bar. “Because if you’re into casual relationships, count me in!”

  She didn’t hesitate, she most definitely didn’t think and she answered just as loudly. “I don’t do casual relationships.”

  Bertha gasped.

  Luis looked as if he’d been slapped.

  Kateri couldn’t look either of them in the eyes, so she glanced around the bar.

  The customers sat, mouths agape.

  She whispered, “Most definitely not with, um, two men.”

  Oh, shit. What had she said? What had she admitted?

  Kateri picked up her hat, eased off the bar stool. “If you’ll excuse me, I, um, have to go check on my friend at the Good Knight Manor Bed and Breakfast. Early this morning she, um, got a threatening call and I put her off because … you know. The murder.”

  Everyone was staring. Everyone was whispering.

  “Luis—I wish you the best of luck in your next significant relationship, whoever it is with.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Kateri stood on the street corner outside the Gem Lounge.

  Rainbow lay in a hospital room dying. r />
  The criminal John Terrance was still free.

  A female tourist had been gruesomely murdered by persons unknown.

  Her best friend of years past had been threatened by persons unknown.

  Kateri’s ribs burned like sonsabitches. And within the hour, half the town would hear that Sheriff Kwinault had declared she didn’t do casual relationships—and would be told, in case they had forgotten, that she was in a relationship with Stag Denali. Might as well brazen it out and hope to hell Stag wasn’t among the half of the town who heard the story.

  Yep. Being sheriff was as much fun as she had imagined.

  Better get moving before the bar patrons got done texting their friends and they descended on the Gem Lounge to catch sight of crazy-in-love Kateri Kwinault.

  She winced at the thought, got in the patrol car and headed toward Mrs. Golobovitch’s apartment. While she drove, she called Bergen, who said everything was quiet. Then in an ominous tone, he added, “Too quiet.”

  He was quoting the oft-used movie line, and she said, “Very funny.”

  “I’m serious. Where is that goddamned sonofabitch John Terrance?”

  She hung up carefully … because Bergen never swore.

  She checked in with Mike Sun, who told her in a tone of intense annoyance he would call when he knew something about Carolyn Abner’s murder.

  Finally she checked in with Moen’s father, Ron. Moen hadn’t been at work and she was worried about the boy. She asked, “How is he doing today?”

  “Thanks for calling about him. Thanks for sending him home and thanks for giving him a little time off. Rupert’s sleeping.” Ron’s voice got rough. “He, uh, he was pretty broken up.”

  Which was code for: He’s been crying.

  Kateri felt so inadequate. She knew how proud Ron was of his son and his career in law enforcement. She also knew about Rupert’s aspirations as an artist. So what was she supposed to say? Platitudes, she supposed. “He’s a good kid. He’s a good cop.”

  “He is. I’m just not sure if he … Well!” Ron drew a breath. “He’ll toughen up.”

  Now Kateri did know what to say. “I hope not. I like him like he is.”