Dream Walk (A Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud Mystery Book 4) Page 7

  “What’s his name?”

  Lacey hesitated. She’d hoped to avoid this. “Derrick Nelson.”

  “Derrick Nel—” Memory dawned, cutting him short. “The one who was dealing on the—”

  “Yes,” she interrupted. “Unfortunately.”

  DelMonico stared at her with new interest. “Wow,” he said softly. “That’s rough.”

  “It was,” she agreed. “But it’s ancient history now. We’ve all moved on.”

  DelMonico’s dark eyes glittered at her. “You’re a pretty tough cookie, Ms. Fitzpatrick. My hat’s off to you.”

  Lacey felt an unwelcome flush warm her cheeks. “Hey, we all do what we have to do,” she said, dismissing the compliment uneasily. “Anyway, I should let you get back to your work. Thanks very much for giving me your time.” She gathered up her purse and stood.

  DelMonico was on his feet immediately. “You know what? Give me your number again. I’m not sure what I did with it before.”

  Lacey chuckled. “I sent you that photo, remember? You’ve got my number on your phone.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He grinned sheepishly. “Where are you staying?”

  “A little place at the top of the Strip. Cozy Suites. I wanted out of the neon jungle.”

  “Oh, sure. Yeah. I think I know the place. Is it nice?”

  “Nice enough.” She shrugged. “Not exactly a destination resort, but it’s just for sleeping, anyway. Well, thank you, Lieutenant.” She stuck out her hand.

  “Adrian,” he said, taking her hand in both of his. “And if there’s anything else I can help you with, just give me a call.”

  “I will.” She had to tug her hand out of his. Down, boy, she thought. “Goodbye.”

  Taking the elevator back down to street level, she checked her watch. She’d gone almost ten minutes over the hour. She hoped Sam hadn’t been waiting too long.

  Her guilt was alleviated by the fact that Sam wasn’t waiting at all. She stood in the shade of a palm tree, which did nothing to mitigate the sweltering heat, and waited, her eyes tracking all the traffic up and down the boulevard. She was just thinking of pulling out her phone to call him when she saw her little car turn in the driveway.

  She was pleased to see he was alone.

  He pulled up at the curb and Lacey got in.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just took Courtney home. Were you waiting long?”

  “Just a couple minutes,” she said. As she pulled her seatbelt on, he headed back out the driveway and into traffic. “I got some more leads for us.”

  While Sam drove, she gave him a rundown of her time with McLeary and DelMonico.

  “We can ask Courtney about the names,” Sam said. “See if Kyle ever mentioned any of them.”

  “Exactly,” Lacey said. “It’s too bad Adrian didn’t have a direct connection from Willie to one of them, but at least we’ve narrowed the pool down from the entire population of Las Vegas.”

  “Adrian?” Sam repeated. He judiciously kept his eyes on the road.

  “Lieutenant DelMonico. And, hey, you know what? I think I made a breakthrough with Detective McLeary. He was being a hardass about my lack of info in the case and I finally broke down and told him about your dreams. Come to find out his grandmother could foretell people’s deaths. After he told me that, we were best buds.”

  Sam laughed. “No shit? That’s pretty funny.”

  “Well, like you said back when we first met, the Irish have a long tradition of pixies, leprechauns and all things paranormal.”

  “Oh, yeah, I remember that conversation. What was that, a year ago?”

  “Just about,” she said, thinking back. Now it seemed like they’d been working together forever.

  “It’s nice to know he’s on our side,” Sam said. “We can use all the help we can get on this one.”

  Back at the hotel, Lacey went to the fridge for a cold bottle of water and was shocked at the amount of food in there.

  “What’d you do, buy out the store?” she asked.

  “Eh. I had a few ideas for meals. Like you said, it’ll save us some cash and eating out gets old pretty quick.”

  “It does,” she affirmed. She flopped down into a chair and pressed the cold bottle to her cheek. “I think I’ll just cool down a little, then go hop in the shower. Being out in that heat, even for short stretches like we were, really zaps the energy.”

  She curled up in the chair with the bottle at her cheek like a pillow and felt her entire body soften and relax. She heard Sam puttering in the kitchen behind her and realized the small sounds were very comforting. It’d been a long time since she’d shared living space with someone. It felt surprisingly good.

  “Lacey? Lace, wake up.” Sam’s low voice was accompanied by a squeeze of her shoulder. She opened her eyes and blinked stupidly.

  “What?” She tried to grasp what might be the matter, but her brain was fuzzy and her reactions were slow.

  “You’re dead to the world. Go take a nap. Come on; you can’t sleep here. You’ll be all bent. Come on.” He took her hand and tugged her to her feet. The water bottle—capped, luckily—fell into the chair behind her. Sam grabbed it.

  “Come on,” he repeated, pulling her toward her room. “Go lie down for a while. You can shower when you wake up. I’ll even make dinner, have it all ready for you.”

  “What? Dinner?” Lacey’s brain was still slow. She was having trouble assimilating nap, shower and dinner into one cohesive thought.

  Chuckling, Sam pushed her gently down on her bed. “Just sleep,” he said. “I’ll take care of everything else.” He set the water bottle on the night stand and lifted her legs up onto the bed, forcing her to lie back. She was surprised to feel him pulling off her shoes, but too dopey to react. She curled up and buried her face in the pillow.

  “Goo’night, Sam,” she sighed.

  “Good night, Lacey. Sweet dreams.”

  ~~~

  TEN

  When Lacey awoke, the room was dark, the light-blocking drapes pulled across the window. She stared with bleary eyes at the clock on the night stand; quarter to six. Was that P.M. or A.M.? She hadn’t slept all night, had she?

  She got up and tiptoed to the closed door of her room. From the living room she heard the faint murmur of the TV. Okay, P.M., then. Sam never got up this early in the morning.

  She stretched leisurely. That nap was exactly what she needed. She padded to her tiny closet for clean clothes and realized she was barefoot. Where were her shoes? Oh, yeah; she remembered Sam pulling them off. That was sweet of him. Matter of fact, that whole episode—as clearly as she could recall—was exceedingly nice. Who knew the stoic Navajo could be so tender?

  The shower was wonderful. She sudsed her hair and felt the warm water rinse all the salt and sweat from her body. Washed, dried and lotioned up, she dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. They weren’t going out anywhere, so there was no need for anything but comfort clothes. She slid her feet into slippers and went out to the front room.

  Sam was sprawled on the couch, watching TV. He sat up as Lacey came to stand nearby.

  “Well, if it isn’t Sleeping Beauty,” he said. “Have a good nap?”

  “Uh huh,” she said emphatically. “That was great. Just what the doctor ordered.” She slanted a sideways look at him. “Dr. Firecloud.”

  He snorted a laugh. “I can always tell when you’ve gone past your limit,” he said. “It was either a nap or watching you nod off every five minutes.” He stood up and stretched. “Now it’s my turn.”

  Lacey turned toward the kitchen. “What can I do to help with dinner?” She realized there was no cooking going on, neither the microwave nor the stove in use.

  “It’s done,” Sam said. His voice drifted from the bedroom just before he closed the door.

  “Done?” Lacey scanned the counter and the table. Nothing. She pulled open the fridge door. Ah—huge tuna salads all ready to eat. She pulled them out and set them on the table. Lettuce, cabbage, sliced
tomatoes, grated carrots, even sliced hard boiled eggs. The man had outdone himself. She tucked her still wet hair behind her ears and got out placemats, silverware and glasses for drinks. As she worked, she realized how hungry she was. A big ol’ salad for dinner, then ice cream for dessert. Yum.

  She was just pouring iced tea for both of them when a knock came from the door. Housekeeping, now? she wondered. A sudden dread settled on her—not Courtney? She was looking forward to a quiet evening with just Sam. She didn’t want to share that with anyone.

  She crossed to the door and pulled it open, prepared for, but already resenting, the intrusion. The smiling face that greeted her caused her brain to lurch to a halt.

  “Hi,” Adrian DelMonico said. “I hope you don’t mind. I got to thinking that I wasn’t being a very good Las Vegan, leaving you to spend your evening alone.” He edged inside the door and looked around. “Nice place. But I was wondering if I could take you to dinner? I know a good place…”

  His voice trailed off. Lacey recovered enough to follow his line of sight, and saw Sam emerging from his room, likewise in shorts and a t-shirt, his wet hair pulled back in a ponytail. He walked toward them, his bare feet silent on the carpet, his face expressionless and yet still somehow intimidating.

  “Uh.” The sound of surprise gurgled from Adrian’s throat at the sight of the approaching Indian.

  Lacey recovered first. She closed the door and began the introductions.

  “Adrian, this is my partner, Sam Firecloud. Sam, this is Lieutenant Adrian DelMonico, Las Vegas Vice.”

  The two men shook hands. She noticed the tendons standing out on Sam’s arm, had a fleeting vision of him arm-wrestling Adrian to the ground. Instead, the men shook once, firmly, and separated.

  “I-I’m sorry,” Adrian said. He glanced beyond Sam and saw the table set for two. “I didn’t realize. You never mentioned…”

  “No, I didn’t,” Lacey said. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, no, my fault,” he said hurriedly. “I should have called.” He edged toward the door. “I’ll leave you to your dinner. Forget I was ever here.” He smiled weakly. “I’ll, uh, talk to you later. Nice meeting you, Sam. Good night.”

  He was out the door and gone before Lacey could even formulate a polite response. Instead she turned to Sam and laughed once. “Oops.”

  Sam’s mouth curved up into a semblance of a smile, but he did not look amused. His eyes were dark pools.

  Lacey felt a nagging guilt over the embarrassing moment, but for what, she wasn’t quite sure. She moved over to the kitchen and put the container of iced tea back in the fridge.

  “That was awkward,” she said. She pulled a couple of paper towels from a rack and folded them for napkins.

  “You never mentioned you were here with a partner?” Sam asked.

  Lacey shrugged, her eyes on her task. “I guess not. I don’t actually remember. I mean, it wasn’t a secret or anything. I just don’t remember it coming up.” She laid the napkins beside their salads and lifted her eyes to him. “You ready to eat?”

  He nodded and slid into a chair. Lacey took the one across the corner from him.

  “This looks great,” she said. “How come I never knew you were a salad chef?”

  He snorted. “Just because the kids like Pop Tarts and Happy Meals doesn’t mean I eat that all the time.” Lacey thought that was probably an attempt at fatherly humor, but his tone had a bite to it. She ducked her head and concentrated on eating.

  The silence stretched out. The only sounds were the clink of silverware against bowls and the distant rumble of traffic that leaked in through the windows. Lacey tried to piece out what had happened—what was happening. It was not lost on her that tonight’s scenario was almost a mirror image of last night’s. Not addressing it was like ignoring the proverbial elephant in the living room.

  She put down her fork and leaned her head in her hand, her eyes on Sam. She waited, calmly watching him. He was intent on his salad, but the furrowed brow seemed to indicate more deep thought than necessary for the simple act of eating. When he set down his fork and reached for his iced tea, he caught the look on Lacey’s face.

  For a second, she thought he would say something. He hesitated slightly, then picked up his glass and drank, his eyes purposely sliding away from her. She waited until he set the glass down again.

  “You wanna talk about it?” she asked softly.

  He picked up his fork and toyed with it, poking at his salad but not actually spearing anything. Finally he set his fork down and exhaled heavily.

  “I guess it’s my turn, huh?” he said.

  She watched him closely. He was struggling now like she had last night.

  She reached out and touched his hand with hers. He turned his hand up, allowing her to thread her fingers through his.

  “Sam?” she said. He met her direct stare. “On the way up here, you said you wondered if seeing Derrick might have stirred up old feelings. And now, having Adrian show up…” She swallowed. “I’m not looking for a partner. I already have one. The best one I could ever imagine.”

  His copper face was impassive, but his eyes gleamed. He squeezed her hand.

  “You know I’m not good at… expressing my emotions,” he said. “At talking about how I feel. And the last time I got serious, it didn’t work out. I don’t know—”

  “Hey,” she interrupted softly. “I’m not proposing marriage. Just be my partner and… we’ll see where it goes. I’m not looking for the fairy tale. My last dance didn’t work out so well, either, remember. So I don’t have all the answers. All I know is that, right now, you mean more to me than anyone else. And I don’t want anything—or anybody—screwing that up.” She pulled his hand to her and laid it against her cheek. “So will you stick with me? See where it takes us?”

  He smiled wanly and squeezed her hand again. “Yeah,” he said. “I can do that.”

  “That’s all I can ask.”

  They finished their dinner in shy but relaxed silence. Afterward, Lacey washed the dishes and Sam dried. She liked having him near her, so near they touched elbows occasionally. There were a couple times she felt like he was on the verge of saying something, but he never did. And that was okay.

  When she’d handed the last fork to him to dry, she turned and got out the map and her notebook, laying both on the table.

  “What do you think we ought to do tomorrow?” she asked. She had her own ideas but wanted to hear his.

  Sam put the clean silverware away and hung up his towel. “I was thinking of going back to the park,” he said. “If that’s where Kyle usually met Willie, I’m wondering about the surrounding area. Isolated places, you know?”

  Lacey knew. “Isolated areas where a shallow grave might go unnoticed?”

  “Yeah.” He joined her at the table, staring down at the map.

  “I was thinking about the park, too,” she said, “but I was thinking we might talk to some of the guys there. Show ‘em Kyle’s picture. See if they can tell us anything.”

  Sam frowned. “You think that’s a good idea? Willie definitely seemed to take an interest in us this morning. I’m not sure we want to risk another run-in with him.”

  Lacey considered that. Sam had a point, but interviewing the men at the park seemed like the next logical step to her.

  “We could go earlier than we did today. If he keeps any kind of schedule, we might beat him there. And if we do see him, we can just leave.”

  Sam regarded her for a moment, then one side of his mouth lifted in a half smile. “You’re getting into cop mode, aren’t you?”

  She angled her head at him. “Probably.” She grinned. “You with me?”

  “Of course.” He reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “But let’s just be careful, okay?”

  “Absolutely,” she said. “You know, this morning we had Courtney with us, and I think Willie recognized her. If it’s just the two of us, he might not make the connection.”


  “Yeah, because there’s nothing distinctive about us, is there?” He reached back and tugged on his now dry ponytail.

  “Well…” she said. “We’ll just see how it goes.”

  “That reminds me, though,” Sam said. “I was going to call her and see if any of those names ring a bell.” He pulled out his phone. “Where’s that list?”

  Lacey found the page in her notebook with the three names and handed it to Sam. He took it to the living room and sprawled on the couch to make the call.

  Lacey studied the map. East of the air force base was basically… nothing. Lots of open land, lots of desert, lots of places to bury things people didn’t want found. If Kyle was buried out there, how would they ever find him?

  She heard the TV click on and walked to the living room. Sam was cycling through channels.

  “No Courtney?” she asked as she took her usual chair.

  “Nope. Left a message. What do you want to watch? Or we could walk down the Strip and do some gambling.”

  She studied him, trying to read if he was serious or not. Finally she saw a corner of his mouth lift.

  “Yeah, no,” she said. “A movie is fine. Whaddaya got?”

  “How about the latest Clint Eastwood old-guy-solves-crimes?”

  “Pass.”

  “Teen coming-of-age angst?”

  “Pass. Is there anything in between?”

  He clicked through the guide. “How about a time travel?”

  “Hmm. That could be interesting.”

  “You got it.” He clicked to the channel and tossed the remote down. Lacey kicked off her slippers and settled in.

  After a couple minutes of opening credits, Sam cleared his throat. Lacey glanced over.

  “You know,” he said, “it’s a lot more comfortable here on the couch than in that silly chair.” He patted the cushion next to him.

  Lacey’s eyebrows shot up at the same time that her face flamed with pink heat. After the initial shock, she considered his invitation, and a slow grin spread across her face. She got up and crossed to the couch, sliding underneath his arm as she took the offered seat.