The Distraction Read online

  I wished I’d thought to ask him about her when I’d seen him last.

  “She’s a lawyer,” said Marcos. “Not sure if that helps.”

  What would a lawyer be doing looking for Alec? He already had a lawyer in the Maxim Stein case. Maybe she was working on the defense and was trying to pump him for information. That would explain why she wasn’t very forthcoming with what she needed.

  I scanned the printout for anything else that might be useful, but he’d already ripped off the corner with her address.

  “She causing you trouble?” There was genuine concern in his voice.

  “Not really. She’s looking for Alec. I was just wondering who she was.”

  Marcos snagged back the paper. “I could get fired for running his exes, I hope you know that.”

  I shot him a look. “It’s not like that. I’m just . . . paranoid these days.”

  He softened. “Yeah. All right.” Another moment passed before he finally looked at me. “Everything else going okay?”

  “They set a date for the trial.” I wanted to tell someone who knew how important this was.

  “I heard that.”

  Of course he had. “Does everybody know but me?”

  “It made national news,” he said. “So, yes.”

  I shoved him with one hand, and he rocked back on his heels, a hint of a smirk lighting his face.

  “You have my number if anything feels off.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. It wasn’t fancy, just a small flip-phone. He shoved it my way.

  “Got you something.”

  “Thanks?” It seemed rude to mention I already had one.

  He sighed. “It’s a burner. We have a few of them floating around the station. Terry and I thought it’d be a good idea for you to carry one in case something comes up.”

  “Oh.” I was touched. “Thanks.”

  He leaned closer. “Just because I’m assigned somewhere else, doesn’t mean I’m not around, all right? I’ll keep an eye on you ’til this all gets straightened out.”

  He had a big brother vibe about him. I liked that.

  “You going to camp outside my apartment again?”

  “Maybe I’ll just run a trace on that phone.”

  “Stalker.”

  “Smart-ass.”

  I hugged him. It took a second for him to hug me back, but when he did, he squeezed me tight.

  “You don’t need to mention tonight to anyone, all right?” he said quietly.

  So he wasn’t out. It meant a lot that he trusted me with his secret.

  “Who am I going to tell?” I asked as we pulled apart. But as I saw his face I knew he was referring to my friend and his boss, Terry Benitez. I didn’t think he would have had a problem, but coming out to a friend and coming out to the police force were two different things.

  “My lips are sealed,” I said. “I hope you two have fun.”

  His ears turned pink.

  “God, you’re in trouble,” I said.

  Before he could turn serious, I skirted away around a makeup display. My shift was almost up, and I had a date of my own with Amy.

  Thirty-two

  “What is this?” Amy asked as I pulled into the YMCA parking lot. It was dark out, but the floodlights were on. I parked beneath one in the back; the front spots were all filled, probably for the basketball leagues boasted on the sign out front.

  I’d tucked the burner phone Marcos gave me deep in the bottom pocket of my purse. Absently I slid my fingers over the small lump of plastic, comforted by its presence.

  “This, my friend, is the YMCA.” I started singing her the Village People’s song, complete with the arm motions.

  “I know it’s the YMCA,” she said. “I did not leave my six-year-old with a sitter so that I could go to a place where I can take my six-year-old.”

  I tried to keep my enthusiasm up, knowing that this was going to be a hard sell.

  “Give me an hour,” I said. “Then we’ll go get burgers. I know a guy who has this great place. Sort of a dive, but awesome food.” Plus I’d agreed to pick up Thomas from Mac when we got to his restaurant, which I planned on filling Amy in on only after phase one was complete.

  She grumbled her consent and I met her outside of the car. We were both in black yoga pants and workout tops—my blue Lycra T-shirt was still a little loose on her, but she looked good in light makeup and a ponytail. Athletic. Like she could kick some ass.

  Which is exactly what we were about to do.

  Arms linked, we entered the front doors. I hadn’t been to this facility, but I’d made sure to get all the details ahead of time. The place smelled like sweat and pool water, and from somewhere to my left came the whir of treadmills.

  “Remember I love you,” I said. “Don’t be mad.”

  “What . . .”

  “Hey ladies.” Mike appeared from down the hall to greet us at the front desk. He was holding a clipboard under one arm and was wearing sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt that didn’t hide the ripples of muscles in his chest and upper arms. Amy and I both took a moment to appreciate the view before she pinched me hard on the wrist.

  “What the fuck is this?” she said between her teeth so only I could hear. Her smile was as wide as physically possible, and more than a little frightening.

  Mike pulled me into a hug and kissed me on the cheek. He was warm and strong and made me miss Alec, and I nearly broke down and said that I’d seen him. I didn’t though; I didn’t want to do anything that put anyone in danger.

  “Hi Amy.” Mike held out his hand, giving her plenty of room. She stiffly placed her fingers over his, but instead of shaking, he squeezed. His eyes never left hers. He never moved closer.

  “I’m glad to see you,” he said.

  “Both of you,” I added. “I’m glad to see both of you. I think that’s what you meant.”

  Mike grinned. “Ready to beat me up?”

  Amy blinked. “What?”

  “Mike does a women’s self-defense class every week,” I said. “After everything that’s happened, I figured I needed a refresher.”

  She saw right through me, of course. This was for her, and we all knew it. Her fair skin hid nothing and blossomed red, and she shot me a glare that was half fury, half panic.

  “An hour,” I promised. “For me. Then burgers.”

  Muttering something about cutting my hair off while I slept, she followed Mike as he turned down the hall and entered a multipurpose room with mirrored walls. We sat beside each other on the blue mats that lined the floor, beside half a dozen other women. Some of them looked comfortable, and joked with Mike as he passed around the sign-in sheet. Others trembled like leaves.

  “Welcome to women’s self-defense,” Mike announced. “If you’re in the wrong room you’ve got twenty seconds to leave before you hurt my feelings.”

  A couple of the girls laughed. He grinned, his gaze landing on Amy. She focused on retying her shoes. As guilty as I felt for springing this on her, I really hoped she learned something tonight. I didn’t want her to be afraid anymore.

  “Okay,” said Mike. “Twenty seconds is up. From now on, if you leave, expect me to cry.” More laughs. He grew serious. “I’m kidding, of course. This is a safe place, ladies, and if you need to step out at any time, go ahead.”

  He met the gaze of a woman with short gray hair in the front row, who nodded slowly.

  “I teach this because it’s important to me,” Mike continued. “I’m proud to say I’ve never hit a woman. Never come close to hitting a woman. See, I don’t believe in hitting women. My father taught me that, every time he beat my mom.”

  Amy glanced at me. Miss Iris was Mike’s mom. I had no idea she’d been abused.

  “Every time he raised his hand to her, it reinforced what I already knew: You don’t hur
t the people you love. You especially don’t hurt the people that I love. My father won’t hurt another woman again, but that doesn’t mean my mom or I will ever forget what he did to us.”

  He was looking at Amy again, only this time, she was looking back.

  “You all have your reasons for being here. Whatever they are, you’re going to leave feeling stronger. I promise.”

  Amy got up, and walked out.

  I jumped to my feet and followed, feeling Mike’s eyes on us. He didn’t miss a beat though; he opened the class to a discussion of how to avoid becoming a target.

  The door squealed on the hinges as I stepped into the hallway. Amy was heading toward the bathroom with her head down, but when she heard me, she spun around. Her shoes squeaked on the scuffed linoleum floor.

  “What were you thinking, bringing me here?” she asked. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She might as well have kicked me in the gut. I was the world’s worst friend.

  “I thought . . .”

  She didn’t let me finish.

  “What makes you think I want to dig into all that stuff, huh? It’s behind me. It’s in the past.”

  I took a step closer. “It’s not in the past,” I said gently. “It’s hiding right under the surface. For you, and for Paisley, too.”

  “Even if that’s true, it doesn’t mean you need to fix it.”

  She was right.

  “I shouldn’t have surprised you,” I said. “That was wrong and I’m sorry. But I do think you need to do something.”

  She pressed the heels of her hand to her eyes.

  I stepped closer. “One day you’re going to meet a guy, the right one, and you guys are going to fight, and I don’t want Paisley to run and hide under the bed, or you to be afraid when all you’re supposed to be is mad.”

  She forced a shuddering breath.

  “He thinks I’m a victim.”

  She looked back toward the room, staring at the wall as if she could see Mike behind it.

  “He thinks you’re a survivor,” I said. “Seems like he has a pretty high opinion of survivors.”

  A long moment passed. I figured we were done here. I’d drive her back to her apartment. She’d tell me she was too tired for dinner. The whole way home I would kick myself for dragging her here when she wasn’t ready.

  “You’ve done this before?” she asked tentatively.

  “Yes.”

  “We don’t have to talk about stuff, right?”

  “Not about anything personal,” I said. “Though that would probably be a good idea.”

  “Don’t push it.”

  I smiled. She groaned. Then sniffled. Then gave me a hug.

  “I hate you, you know that, right?”

  “I know.”

  “All right,” she said. “Let’s do this.”

  * * *

  An hour later we’d gone over the definitions of verbal, mental, and physical abuse, talked about body-language cues, and discussed ways to be more aware in our environments. We’d yelled “no” as a group, louder and louder, until Amy’s voice rose over my own.

  Then Mike had put on a padded suit, and we’d taken turns kicking him, striking him, and pushing him and running away. We’d broken into pairs and pretended to gouge out each other’s eyes, then practiced what to do if someone grabbed our wrists or hair. I had volunteered to help Mike demonstrate ways to break out of a rear choke hold, and when I took him to the floor he groaned, and mumbled, “I bet I know where you learned that one.”

  When it was Amy’s turn to wrestle him on the floor, she moved fast—impressively fast—and then escaped to the end of the line where I waited.

  I gave her a high five.

  “Was that good?” she asked, breathing hard.

  “Are you kidding? It was awesome.”

  “Think Mike was impressed?”

  I laughed. “You kicked him in the face. If that doesn’t impress him, nothing will.”

  She looked pleased with herself.

  When the class was over, we stayed late to thank him. He put his pads away in a duffle bag and left the room open for the maintenance staff.

  “So?” he asked Amy. “How do you feel?”

  “Good.” She fixed her hair. “Really good, actually.”

  “You’ve got some skill,” he told her. “You’ve taken martial arts before, I guess.”

  “No,” said Amy. “Just a careful study of The Karate Kid.”

  He lifted his arms and right knee, as if to do a crane kick, and she giggled like a teenager.

  “So,” he said slowly. “I’ve got to go pick up Chloe. I could give you a ride home if you like.” He watched her closely, looking, as I was, for any sign that she was uncomfortable.

  Which she was, but in all the right ways.

  “Sure.” She looked at me. “Is that all right?”

  “Of course,” I said. “I have to go check on Alec’s dad anyway.”

  “Good luck with that.” Mike snorted. “Make sure you text me when you get in.”

  He was still intent on looking out for me in Alec’s absence.

  We all walked to my car, and when I got in and shut the door, Mike escorted Amy to his enormous black truck. While he was rounding the front to open the door for her, she gave me a quick wave, and I smiled back. She’d be safe with Mike. And he’d fall in love with her—it was impossible not to. I’d remember this night a few years from now when they were celebrating their first wedding anniversary.

  Matchmaking and raising self-esteem. All in a good night’s work.

  I turned my key in the ignition and pulled forward through the empty spot in front of me toward the exit. Mike had waited for me to turn on my car, but once he saw me moving, he drove away.

  I was getting ready to turn onto the main road when I looked over to the passenger side and saw that the window was cracked. Amy hadn’t left it open. I specifically remembered her rolling it up before we went inside.

  “Keep driving,” came a gritty voice from the backseat.

  My blood froze. Automatically I reached for the door handle, but a hand, glowing white in the streetlight, had already slid over it to block my escape.

  Thirty-three

  I glanced in the rearview mirror, but I didn’t need to see his face to know who had broken into my car.

  “Mr. Reznik,” I said, trying to control my voice from shaking. “It’s a little late for a parole visit, isn’t it?”

  I watched in the mirror as he stroked his goatee with his middle finger and thumb. It was dark outside, and he’d chosen to leave the sunglasses behind, but his eyes were hidden from view by the shadows.

  “I work late hours,” he said, inhaling audibly. “It’s the best time to catch people breaking the rules.”

  From below my elbow came a scratching sound, and when I looked down I saw the silver barrel of a gun, glinting off the lights outside. After a moment, he withdrew the weapon, and pressed it into the back of my seat. I could feel the hard knob poking against the middle of my back.

  I glanced to the passenger seat where my purse was. Inside was my cell, and the burner phone as well. It seemed stupid keeping them both in the same place now. If I could only reach one of them, I could call the police, call Marcos, or even Mike. He and Amy couldn’t be that far away yet.

  I had Mace on my keychain and pepper spray in the compartment on the door. I glanced down, but it was missing from its regular place. Reznik must have taken it.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, I assure you, it’s a bad idea.”

  “Abducting me is a bad idea,” I said. “Someone already tried it. It didn’t go well for him.”

  Someone honked behind me. The driver of a silver sedan pulled around, flashed me his middle finger, and sped away. He didn’t even look long enough to see the man in the backseat.

/>   “Drive.”

  I jumped at Reznik’s sharp command. An hour ago I’d been yelling “no!” at the top of my lungs, but now I could barely find the air to whisper.

  “You know I picked a neon blue car specifically so no one would try to carjack me again?” I asked.

  “Ms. Rossi,” he said. “You’re going to take me to Alec Flynn, or there will be consequences, do you understand?”

  I pressed down harder on the brake. I would not move this car. I would not let him control me.

  “I don’t know where he is,” I said, jaw tight.

  “Oh I think you do,” he said. “He may be hiding from me, but he’s not hiding from you.”

  “I swear,” I said. “The FBI has him.”

  Reznik chuckled. “Drive the car, bitch.”

  Alec’s voice sounded in my head. If you’re already in motion, you can shut it down.

  “Okay,” I said slowly. “I’m driving. I’m doing what you want. No need to get hostile.”

  Cold fingers reached between the seat and the headrest, gripping the back of my neck as if he could snap it by sheer force. I jerked away, but his hands tangled in my hair and held tight.

  “You haven’t begun to see hostile,” he said.

  I may not have known exactly what he was planning, but his intent was clear enough to make me shudder.

  I moved my foot to the gas, and slowly eased out onto the street. There wasn’t much traffic this time of night, but a larger intersection was coming up, and there’d be more people there.

  I watched the backlit needle rise. Ten miles per hour. Fifteen. The intersection came into view. It was still at least a mile away.

  “Does it bother you that he abandoned you?” Reznik asked. “You could have been killed that night at the hotel.”

  Slowly, I moved my hand to the cupholder in the center console. I felt around for the kill switch Alec had installed, trying to appear as though I was only adjusting my position. Finally the plastic rose beneath my finger. I had it.