Jo Robertson - The Avenger

He could never allow that.

God, what madness made him think he could be around her, be with her? Even now he felt his body morphing, sinking deeper into the morass as he put the car in gear, burned rubber, and skidded down the street toward the freeway.

Sunday morning Jack and Olivia met at the university where she left her car in the parking lot and climbed into his rental. They traveled east on Interstate 80 past Vacaville, the home of two California state prisons, and finally turned onto State Highway 12 toward Napa.

They talked little.

Jack had never visited California's wine country. The scenery was beautiful, but he was aware all the time of Olivia sitting rigidly in the passenger seat, answering his questions monosyllabically and avoiding his eyes. "I know you're still hurt and angry," he began after twenty minutes of silence.

The look she gave him would've scorched the sun. "Hurt? Angry? Is that what you think, Jack?" She crossed her arms, the safety belt hampering the gesture. "What I am is pissed." She turned her head to stare out the window. "And I don't want to talk about it."

So much for that.

When they arrived in Maidu, they used the GPS to locate the police station, a squat brick building in the older downtown section. Hector Alvarez, the police chief, met them in the lobby. Jack towered over Alvarez, a round cherub of a fellow with a ready smile and dark, lively eyes.

"Hola! Recepción a mi oficina." He beamed and waved them into his office and toward chairs near his desk. "Welcome to my office. My good friend Sheriff Slater told me to expect you. How can I help you?"

Alvarez sank into a wheeled desk chair and turned to punch a key on his computer. "You have come about the assaults , sí? I would be most grateful for any help." He chattered away like a happy chipmunk.

Olivia tossed a glance Jack's way as a smile hovered on her lips.

After glancing at the computer, the police chief wheeled his chair toward a low filing cabinet, rummaged around a minute, and extracted three folders. "Ah, here they are." He rolled back to his desk and handed the files to Jack. "Any help at all," he reiterated. "Muy confuso. I'm completely stymied. This is an ugly case."

Jack flipped open the first file and scanned the contents. The notes were surprisingly neat and detailed. "Would you mind if I copied these?"

"Not at all." Alvarez switched on the intercom and requested his assistant.

A moment later, a uniformed female officer stuck her head in the door and he asked her to make copies of all three files.

"Can you add anything that might not be covered in the reports?" Jack asked, crossing one leg over the other. "Any impressions, gut feelings?"

"Ah, instinct?" Alvarez frowned and fingered his short black goatee. "I found it strange that the perpetrator was able to get these experienced prostitutes to go with him. Perhaps he was a man who appeared to have money?" He shrugged. "College students are not so wealthy even in our affluent community."

"So you abandoned that lead?" Jack asked.

"Yes. There was nothing there anyway."

The female cop returned, carrying both the copied files and the originals. Alvarez handed them over. "I am not usually so eager to share confidential information." He stared at Jack and his friendly eyes took on a dark hardness. "But in this case Slater has vouched for you."

The words held both a compliment and a warning.

"Why didn't we look at the cases at the police station?" Olivia asked after they climbed back into the car.

"We could have, but I prefer making my own evaluation. Having Alvarez peering over my shoulder makes that harder."

Feeling the protest of her stomach, Olivia looked up and down the street. "I saw a coffee shop around the corner when we came into town."

"Then let's make it a late working lunch."

Jack obtained a booth in the back of the sparsely-occupied restaurant. Too early for the dinner crowd, too late for lunch. After they'd eaten and the dishes cleared, he handed one folder to Olivia and kept the others. They read the contents in silence. He was much faster than her, and she'd scarcely finished the file on Ann Boyle when she looked up. He'd already perused both of the remaining folders.

"It's not a competition." A smile curled his mouth.

She frowned, but didn't pretend not to understand. "I know that. Did you find anything?"

"No. This particular perp is vicious and violent, but he's not our killer."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Other than the beatings and possibly a similar weapon, there's no other link."

She nodded, understanding immediately. His thoughts mirrored her own. "No suffocation by burial, no crucifixion."

"Exactly," he agreed.

"And no Latin notes," she added, remembering her purpose in being on the case in the first place. Remembering that this trip was about business and she wasn't a silly schoolgirl. "I guess we wasted a trip." She glanced around. The restaurant was beginning to fill up again.

She rose abruptly. "We'd better start back." Gathering her purse, she walked out to the car and stood by the passenger door while Jack paid for their lunch.

He unlocked the doors and slid in. A few moments later she told herself it wasn't destiny at all, but some kind of perverse fate that caused the engine to sputter and stall. Finally only the click of the key in the ignition remained.

A stalled car. How ridiculously clichéd, she thought.

"Shit," Jack exclaimed from under the hood of the car.

"Do you know anything about cars?" She stood beside him and peered into the maze of black hoses, fat tubes, and assorted metal shapes.

He glared at her over his shoulder. "I'm not a mechanic, but I know the basics. This is more complicated than a battery or spark plugs." He pulled out his cell phone, glanced at a slip of paper, and punched in the numbers. "Chief Alvarez," he began.

"How did you know we'd need the police number?" she asked suspiciously when he'd clicked the cell phone shut.

"I was a boy scout." He grinned and looked years younger. "Always prepared."

Since it was now after six, the repair shop recommended by Alvarez was closed. The car was towed to the shop where the Chief promised to get the mechanic on it first thing in the morning. He recommended a motel several miles away and gave them a lift there.

"Call me in the morning when you need a ride back to the shop," Alvarez said, handing Jack a slip of paper with the garage number on it. "Sorry for the inconvenience."

"Now what?" Olivia asked after the Chief had driven away.

"Now we get rooms and hope for an early phone call."

Jack strode into the motel lobby and registered for both of them. "I got adjoining rooms," he said when he returned, handing her a key card. He had a strange look on his face. "That way we can work a little on the case."

"Good, at least the trip won't be a total waste." She felt sticky and tired and wanted nothing more than a hot shower, but remembered that she had no extras with her, no toothbrush, no underwear, no sleepwear. "I'll need to make some purchases first."

The clerk at the registration desk directed them to a store close by, but it was late before they finished shopping and stumbled back to their rooms.

"The case can wait," Jack said. "You look bushed."

Olivia stifled a yawn and closed the door behind her. A half hour later, her hair still damp from the shower, her newly purchased gym shorts and tee shirt serving as pajamas, she sprawled into the crisp motel sheets and slept.

Jack glared at the glowing digital numbers on the nightstand. Two-forty-five. He'd lain wide awake over two hours. Sleep seldom came easily to him, but tonight he couldn't banish Olivia from his thoughts, couldn't relax thinking of her a thin wall away.