Through the glass, p.1
Through the Glass, page 1
part #2 of Coyote Moon Series Series
Coyote Moon Book 2
Through the Glass
By
Ann Simko
Uncial Press Aloha, Oregon
2014
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events described herein are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN 13: 978-1-60174-187-5
Through the Glass
Copyright © 2014 by Ann Simko
Cover art and design
Copyright © 2014 by Tirzah Goodwin & Judith B. Glad
Broken glass ©Primus1 Dreamstime
Previously published in a somewhat different version
by Lyrical Press, 2010.
All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five (5) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Published by Uncial Press,
an imprint of GCT, Inc.
Visit us at http://www.uncialpress.com
To Bob, Noah and Maria for having to put up with my virtual absences for long periods of time--Tap Tap Tap--Love you guys.
The author wishes to acknowledge the following for providing help, opinions, sanity checks and alcohol; James, Bobby, Tom, Daria, Sonal and Jen.
Chapter 1
The knife slid into the firm flesh of her stomach almost effortlessly. Pain took her breath and stole her voice. The second strike came fast on the heels of the first, never giving her a chance to scream.
It wasn't supposed to play out this way. Everything had worked out as she'd planned up until now. She'd known she was flirting with danger, but never saw this coming. Even as she choked on her own blood, she hoped she was wrong. She couldn't be dying. She was only twenty-six.
Murdered in her own bed--was not what she'd planned.
* * * *
It had been a long time since Montana had been with a woman. Because of the way he looked, people assumed he could have any woman he wanted, and he probably could. In reality, women scared the hell out of him. They always had. So secure in their own feelings, or so it seemed to him, looking from the outside in. It scared him to get that close, to expose that much and not be able to take it back. Vulnerable and exposed, that's how women made him feel. Naked flesh didn't concern him nearly as much as naked feelings.
He never understood how other men could separate intimacy and sex. To him they were one and the same. The physical and the emotional coiled and entwined around one another, inseparable. Not for him, never for him. It was one of the reasons he chose his lovers carefully, but despite that care he always paid a price. That was the reason he spent much of his life alone. In the end the price was too high.
But not tonight. Tonight he was not alone. He slid his hands along Linney's side, enjoying the way her skin felt. Like warm silk beneath the rough calluses of his fingers. He felt her shiver under his touch. Tilting her head back, she asked for a kiss, and he did not disappoint her. He pulled her close and covered her mouth with his. Her lips parted for him, and he explored the velvet lining with his tongue. God, she felt right, they felt right together. Passion welled with the sheer intensity of the feelings she brought to life inside of him. He wanted to act on them, but knew she needed sleep.
She turned in his arms and snuggled into the curve of his shoulder. Her small, warm hands ran lightly along his ribs, his hip, traveled back up to rest below his stomach. She touched the scars on his body, each one with its own story. Stories he would rather leave in the past.
She seemed to know that and never asked how they got there. He loved her for that alone. The others always wanted the stories, wanted something he could never give them, a piece of his soul. Someday he would tell her, he would tell her everything. But not tonight. Tonight he simply wanted to be here with her, no past, no future, just now. She understood that as well.
"Mmm, I think you wore me out," she whispered, her voice drugged with sleep and sex.
He rested his chin on top of her head, smoothed her honey-blond hair out of his face and wrapped his arms around her. He grabbed the blankets they'd kicked off and pulled them up to cover them both.
"Cold?"
"Hmm? No, you're a human blast furnace." He felt her smile.
"And you are beautiful." It wasn't an empty compliment. If he could have thought of something more profound, he would have said the words, but he wasn't a poet. He made a living dealing with the worst humanity had to offer. He was used to the ugly things in life, so the beautiful ones meant all the more to him.
She laughed at the compliment and raised herself up on one elbow so their faces were level.
"Uh uh." She shook her head, and her fingers lightly traced the contours of his face. "You're the beautiful one and not only here." She placed her hand over his heart. "But here too, my pretty boy." It was a private joke they shared from the first time they met almost two months ago. She told him, when he asked her out to dinner, that she didn't date men who were prettier than her. The blush her comment caused endeared him to her, or so she said, and she broke her own rule.
"My pretty boy," she repeated. "My pretty Montana Thomas. I think I could fall in love with you."
Montana closed his eyes and felt what passed for a smile on his lips. He had fallen and fallen hard. He was afraid to admit it to himself, let alone her, but the feeling was undeniable.
He tightened his arms around her and hoped she understood his silence. Grateful when he heard the slow measured breathing that signified her sliding into sleep, he found the courage to say the words aloud.
"I love you, Linney," he whispered into her hair, secure that she slept and the words went unheard by anyone but him. "I love you."
As sleep claimed him, Montana thought he might actually be happy. He couldn't tell for sure, the feeling was one not completely familiar to him, but it was one he might like getting used to.
He fell asleep with the only woman he had dared to utter those words to, snuggled and wrapped sweetly around him. It was all he needed at that moment.
A moment he took, folded up, and hid deep within the very core of him. A moment he would take out and unfold time and time again whenever he tried to figure out exactly what the hell went wrong.
Chapter 2
The voice on the phone that woke Ito St. James at six that morning was filled with fear, confusion and self-doubt. It belonged to Montana even if it didn't sound like him in the least.
"Ito? I need your help."
The simple request brought Ito from sleep to full wakefulness. Montana sounded on the edge. With the next few words he tumbled over the precipice.
"I killed her. I think I killed her." Montana's voice cracked. Ito heard grief and disbelief just beneath the surface.
He understood Montana. He knew what the man feared, the things that scared him. Those things were precious few, and right now Montana was scared.
"Montana?" Ito tucked the phone between head and shoulder and reached for his pants. "What are you talking about? Where are you?"
There was a slight pause, as if Montana had to think about the answer. "Uh, Lincoln County lock-up, I think. Ito, she's dead. I had the knife in my hands. Her blood... Ito..."
"Montana! Get it together, man, you're not making any sense. Who's dead?"
"Linney. Ito, they say I killed Linney."
"What do you mean, 'they say'?"
"I can't remember. I fell asleep. I woke up... She was dead...her blood... Ito?"
"I'm on my way. Do you have a lawyer?"
"I called you." Montana's voice was thick and trembling.
Montana was losing it and obviously in shock. As a member of Montana's team of Rangers, Ito owed it to him to find out exactly what had happened to him. The bond that had formed between them was stronger than most families and family wasn't something you messed with, not in Ito's world and certainly not in Montana's.
"All right, listen to me. You say nothing until I get there. Understand? I'll call Damien Knight and then I'm coming to see you. You hang, Montana, okay? I'm on my way, do you hear?"
Silence answered him.
"Montana, you hear?" He used an authoritative tone he hoped would make it through the shock and reach the disciplined Ranger underneath.
"Yeah, yes," Montana answered, sounding just a bit more controlled. "I understand. Ito?"
"Yeah?"
"Hurry, okay?"
"I am on wings, my man. Hang tight."
Ito hung up and went perfectly still, trying to recall the last time he had heard Montana like this.
Never.
That concerned him more than anything. Montana was not someone you worried about, he was not someone who asked for help. Montana Thomas was who you went to for help. What the hell had happened to turn that around?
When Montana had approached him about the possibility of a private investigation firm, he hadn't had to think about an answer. Employed in a dead-end job as a security guard for a high-end jewelry store and bored out of his mind, Ito quit and never looked back. Now, five years later, Big Sky Investigati ons was firmly established and actually seeing a profit. Life was good, but life had a way of throwing curve balls at you when you least expected it.
With concern weighing heavily on him, he finished dressing and reached for the phone. He might not know what to do to help Montana, but he knew someone who did.
* * * *
Damien Knight did not appreciate being pulled out of bed on a weekend, until he put his irritation on hold long enough to listen to what Ito had to tell him.
By all rights he and Montana Thomas shouldn't have been friends. They irritated the hell out of each other on a regular basis. Despite that Damien admired the man. They had met by accident when separate cases they had been working on intersected. Montana's client happened to be a key witness in a murder trial in which Damien was the defense attorney. An odd friendship had formed. Montana made of point of directing his clients Damien's way if they were in need of criminal defense. Likewise if Damien thought his clients could benefit from Montana's services he always had one his business cards on hand.
So when Ito woke him up a mere five hours after he had gone to bed, he forgave the intrusion when he found out exactly who was in need of his help.
"What do you mean they're holding him on murder charges?" Damien sat on the edge of the bed, speaking softly so as not to disturb his wife. When she grabbed the pillow and put it over her head, he realized the phone had already woken her. He grabbed a pair of jeans and quietly closed the door behind him. With the phone between his shoulder and ear, he hopped on one foot while shoving the other through the leg of his jeans and tried to make sense out of what Ito was saying.
"I only know what he told me, and he wasn't making much sense."
"You're right, that doesn't sound like Montana." Damien padded barefoot to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee, his one and only addiction.
"And that's exactly what worries me. He is totally unhinged, Damien. You know how he feels about Linney. You've seen them together. If she is dead..."
Damien knew Montana well enough to know that if Linney was dead, his heart would be damaged beyond all possible hope of repair.
"He doesn't remember anything?"
"He says no. Something is wrong here, and I don't mean the obvious. You know Montana didn't kill that girl."
Damien filled a travel mug with strong black coffee. "Right now I don't know anything. I need to make some phone calls. How long will it take you to get to where they're holding him?"
"Thirty minutes."
"That should be good. Let me do my thing, and then I'm going to grab a quick shower and a plane. You go be with him. I'll be there in two, three hours tops."
"I'm not a lawyer. What if they don't let me in?"
"Trust me. When I get done with them, you won't have a problem."
"Damien, I never heard him like this before, you understand what I'm telling you?"
"Yeah, I understand. Ito, I'll get him out of this, I swear." He hoped to hell he could make good on his promise.
Considering his usual clientele, he knew the number for the Lincoln County, Nevada, correctional facility by heart.
"Time to work the magic," he said to the still ringing line.
He was something of a celebrity in Denver. There had been a murder case a few years back, a man accused of killing his neighbor in a dispute over where said neighbor's dog did his business. The circumstantial evidence was overwhelming. Events leading up to the murder were convincing. Witnessed accounts of verbal assaults and one attempt at trying to poison the dog were all admitted by the defendant. The dog leash used to strangle the victim had the accused's DNA all over it. Open and shut. Or so it seemed until Damien came into the picture.
Not only had the police failed to Mirandize the man, but the evidence had been contaminated at the crime scene, making most of it inadmissible in court. Damien had no doubt the man had indeed killed his neighbor, but the case never saw the inside of a courtroom. It was dismissed by a federal court judge who called Damien a disgrace to the profession.
Damien cashed his client's check for half a million dollars. After all, what price can you put on freedom? It wasn't false vanity. He was simply that good and saw no reason to be modest about it.
But this situation was different. As he sat in first class on his way to Nevada, he wondered what Montana had gotten himself involved in. He'd never represented a friend before, maybe because friends were not something he had in surplus, but he knew Montana wouldn't hesitate if Damien needed his help. There weren't many people he could say that about.
Last week Montana had brought Linney to Denver. That in itself was unusual. Montana didn't see most of the women he dated more than once or twice. This one was different. Anyone looking at him would have known he was officially off the market.
Damien had wondered if the petite blonde knew how lucky she was. Montana Thomas was stupid in love with her.
They'd splurged and gone to a five-star restaurant, Damien and Kathy, Montana and Lindsay. Linney. She liked to be called Linney. They had held hands across the table and Montana's eyes had never left Linney's.
"Do you think she's the one?" Kathy had asked him during the drive home.
Yeah, he did.
He closed his eyes, hoping to catch some much-needed sleep before the plane landed. He needed to be sharp; he needed everything he had for Montana. From his phone conversation with the DA, things did not look good. At first Montana had all but confessed to the murder. After the initial shock had worn off and he'd spoken to Ito, he refused to utter another word. The DA wouldn't go into details over the phone.
Damien needed to talk to Montana.
Chapter 3
If there had been anyone on the street to take notice, the limo that pulled up in front of the police station would have caused quite a stir. Not too many limos showing up in Caliente.
Damien checked his hair and tie, grabbed his alligator leather briefcase, and got out. He walked to the driver's window and waited for him to power it down. "I expect you to pick me up when I call." He held out a bill.
The driver glanced at the hundred-dollar tip before sliding it in his jacket pocket. He touched the polished visor of his hat, nodded, and pulled out of the circular drive.
Before Damien could open the glass door, he saw Ito get out of a white Humvee parked across the street. Even from a distance, Ito's half Japanese, half African-American heritage was evident. Damien had always thought he was one of the most unique looking individuals he had ever met.
"They wouldn't let me see him," Ito said. At six-foot-five and an easy two-fifty, Ito could usually intimidate anyone just by his presence. Apparently the Caliente Police Department had missed that memo.
Ito had a good six inches on Damien, and he was pissed. That should have been enough to have Damien take a step back, but he hated to be predictable. "You told them you were with me?"
"Didn't seem to impress them."
That concerned Damien. It meant Montana was still under interrogation. They should be keeping him secluded, but not questioning him without representation. It also meant they thought they had a solid case against him.
He pulled open the door and strode to the glass window just inside. A bored sergeant looked up and gave him an irritated scowl.
"Damien Knight, representing Montana Thomas." Damien flashed his ID.
The sergeant spent all of half a second glancing at Damien and Ito before picking up the phone to ask for confirmation.
"Why wasn't my associate allowed in to see our client?"
"Because your associate isn't legal representation. He's the accused's business partner," the sergeant said and looked smug. "Only legal representatives are allowed in on homicides. You know that."
He did, but it didn't mean he had to like it. "True." Damien wanted Ito with him. If Montana was as unhinged as he thought, Ito might be the only one who could get Montana to keep it together. "But as of this morning, Mr. St. James works for me. He is my legal assistant, and legal assistants are allowed in with legal representatives."
The cop knew it was bullshit, the look on his face said as much, but he let them in. After twenty minutes of signing in and searches through personal belongings, Damien and Ito finally stood outside the holding room where they were keeping Montana. Twelve hours had passed since the police found him sitting over Linney's bloody corpse.
