Everything was going black, swirling above her, the stars and moon circling her head as a jet cut across the inky sky. I’m going to die, she thought with sudden understanding and surrender. Her arms moved more slowly, her legs stopped kicking.
She was floating on her back, staring upward as the blackness consumed her and she finally caught a glimpse of the person who had fought so hard to kill her.
Why? she wondered. Why me?
Far in the distance she heard someone yell. “Rico!” her neighbor screamed at the dogs. “Daisy! Little Bit! You all hush!”
But the Chihuahuas were rabid and kept up their high-pitched barking and wails as the night closed in on Shana. She struggled for a breath, then finally blackness took away her pain.
CHAPTER 22
The day was warm. Despite the breeze blowing off the Pacific. Bentz was back in Santa Monica, walking on the pier, slowing at the very spot where he knew he’d seen “Jennifer” jump into the bay. Here, he felt a chill and as he looked downward into the water, imagined he saw her ghostly image in the inky depths, her skin pale and blue, veins visible, her red dress diaphanous and floating around her like a scarlet shroud.
He blinked. Of course she wasn’t there, the water once again a clear aquamarine shimmering as it caught the sunlight.
His cell phone rang.
According to caller ID, it was Jonas Hayes’s private cell.
“Bentz,” he said, still scanning the sea and feeling the pain in his leg. Worse since his midnight swim. Age was creeping up on him, though he was loath to admit it, except to Olivia who thought he was still young enough to father another kid. If she could see him now, limping along the boardwalk, conjuring up wraiths in the water…
“We need to talk.” Hayes’s voice was tight, all-business. He obviously hadn’t warmed up since their last conversation.
“When?” Bentz squinted as he looked downward to the shadowy area under the pier where a fisherman was casting out a line and where, if he figured right, Jennifer would have landed when she plunged into the water and disappeared. As far as he knew, the Coast Guard had not recovered the body of a woman in a red dress, so he had to assume the woman impersonating his ex-wife was still very much alive. Ready to haunt him again.
Just as she’d disturbed his dreams.
After doing some work on the Internet, searching for information regarding Alan Gray, he had called Olivia, then watched some mindless television. He’d dozed off with the television on, falling into a restless sleep full of disjointed images of his ex-wife…Jennifer reaching for him from the water in a sopping wet red dress. Jennifer at the wheel of a silver car with smudged plates.
Wanting some closure, some hint of how a woman could leap from such a high vantage point and completely disappear, he had returned to Santa Monica today in search of answers. Today the sky was clear, the sun so bright he was wearing shades against the glare. A soft breeze ruffled the huge fronds of the palm trees near the beach. He checked his watch-his new watch, as his old one had given up the ghost after his swim. “What time do you want to meet?”
“Now would be good,” Hayes said. “Actually, give me thirty or forty minutes. Can you meet me somewhere near the Center? I’m at the office.”
“Sure.” Bentz understood that “the Center” meant Parker Center, LAPD’s headquarters building that housed the Robbery-Homicide Division. What he didn’t get was Hayes’s turnaround. The last he’d heard Hayes would have liked nothing better than to shove him onto the next eastbound 737 headed for New Orleans. Then again, from the professional, nearly distant tone of Hayes’s voice, Bentz was guessing this wasn’t just a friendly lunch date. Hayes wasn’t calling to patch up their relationship.
“How about Thai Blossom on Broadway? It’s not far. Good food. Reasonable.”
“I’ll find it. What’s up?”
“I’ll tell you when you get there.” Hayes hung up and Bentz was left with a bad feeling.
It wasn’t like Hayes to be cryptic or curt. Something was definitely going on. And definitely not something good. Bentz turned and, using his cane, headed to his car. He was still suffering from his late-night swan dive and swim. His leg was definitely acting up, and he’d already downed double the dosage of ibuprofen this morning, washing the pills down with a large cup of coffee.
Of course, all this walking and trudging through sand hadn’t helped. But he had wanted to explore the underbelly of the pier by daylight, hoping to find an escape method the woman might have used. A ladder, a rope, a catwalk. Unfortunately, when he’d hitched along the beach, he’d looked up and seen only the guts of the massive dock, pillars covered with creosote and tar. No means of escape.
By light of day Santa Monica Bay was a different animal. The other night the whole area around the pier had been eerie with the lights of the amusement park muted and fuzzy in the fog, but bright enough to reflect in the black waters. This morning the pier wore an entirely different face. Yes, there was a carnival atmosphere, but it seemed far less sinister. The amusement park bustled with noise and the shouts of delighted riders. There were lots of people walking, riding bikes, jogging, or window-shopping on and around the beach. Men fished off the pier, people strolled on the beach, kids played in the sand. Nothing menacing or dark.
Almost as if he’d dreamed the horrid situation. He’d checked with the webcam people twice, and there was some hitch in locating the film. “Just give me another day,” the technician had told him. Bentz wasn’t sure if the holdup was about authorization or technical issues, but he was skeptical that he’d ever get access to the webcam records.
He looked out to sea one last time.
How does a woman plunge into the water and disappear?
Maybe Hayes would help answer that question.
“Yeah, right,” he muttered, climbing into the warm interior of his rental car. After a quick U-turn, he stepped on it and was lucky enough to stay ahead of a few yellow lights. Traffic, for once, was light and he didn’t spot a tail or catch one glimpse of Jennifer.
As he drove he toyed with the notion that Hayes might want to talk to him about the old Caldwell case, to pick his brain to see if there was something the files didn’t hold. Maybe Hayes was hoping Bentz had a forgotten piece of information that might be the key to unmasking the Twenty-one killer and solving the new case with the Springer twins as the vics.
He thought of the grief-stricken parents, the hell they must be going through. A few times in his life he’d almost lost his daughter and the horror of it was branded in his memory, even though she’d pulled through. And now Olivia wanted another child. Of course she did. He didn’t blame her; she was younger than he and had never been a parent.
Maybe…
If he survived whatever was going down here on the coast.
He ended up at the restaurant five minutes before they were supposed to meet, but Hayes was already inside, waiting at a booth with vinyl seats, a plastic-topped table. Fake bamboo screens separated tables. The restaurant smelled of jasmine, tea, ginger, and curry and from the kitchen came the sound of rattling pans and voices speaking in some Asian tongue.
Hayes looked up from his small, steaming cup of tea. He didn’t bother smiling, just nodded as Bentz slid onto the bench across from him and slid his cane beneath his feet. They were nearly the only people in the restaurant, which had just opened for the day.
Hayes eyed the cane. “You feelin’ okay?”
Bentz lifted a shoulder and kept his face impassive as the waitress, a petite Asian woman with a friendly smile and long black hair wound onto her head, brought another cup of tea and two plastic menus. Hayes ordered without looking at what was offered. Sensing the other man’s intensity, Bentz said, “I’ll have the same.”