Finding Shayla Read online

  After the show, Jazz took Shayla’s hand and they walked to a little coffee shop. It was fairly empty, and Shayla grew tense. Did Jazz really want to hear about her marriage? Did Shayla really want to unload all that on Jazz? She’d see how it played out.

  She sat at a table while Jazz ordered coffees. She took the time to stare at Jazz and realize yet again what a handsome woman she was. So what was she doing with Shayla? Was she playing games? Biding her time to take her to bed, then dump her? Shayla did not deserve anyone as gorgeous as Jazz.

  Her mind drifted back to Cayenne. She would have loved to see what could have happened between them. But Cayenne was the law, which made her decidedly off limits. Shayla needed to avoid the law at all costs. She wondered if anyone was still looking for her. Even if they were, they’d never find her in Chicago. She was safe here. At least for now.

  Jazz walked back to the table carrying two frothy mugs.

  “Oh, my God. That looks delicious,” Shayla said.

  “Wait until you try it. Cinnamon, chocolate, yum. It’s my very favorite coffee in the city.”

  Shayla tasted it.

  “It’s delicious,” she said. “Thank you, Jazz. Thank you for everything. It’s been a magical couple of nights.”

  “My pleasure. I can’t think of anybody I’d rather spend time with, to be honest.”

  Shayla felt the heat wash over her.

  “I feel the same way.”

  Jazz took one of Shayla’s hands in hers.

  “Shayla, I can’t imagine what hell you lived in during your marriage, but please believe me that I only want to make you happy. Yes, this is only our second date, but I plan on many more. That is, if you’d like that.”

  “I’d love that.”

  “Would you mind telling me about it? I ask not out of morbid curiosity, but because I’d like to avoid triggering you. And I can’t do that if I don’t know what your triggers are.”

  Shayla nodded her understanding, not trusting her voice. Could it be someone actually cared about her? Was she worth caring about? She doubted it with every ounce of her being. But then, why was Jazz there?

  “It wasn’t fun.” She finally found her voice. “I get that you want to avoid my triggers, but there are so many. Maybe it would just be best if we don’t see each other again.”

  “That ain’t gonna happen. Now that I’ve found you, I’m not going anywhere. And if you don’t want to talk about your marriage today, maybe you’ll be ready tomorrow. Or the next day. And I’ll be here. Waiting.”

  Shayla fought to keep the tears in check but couldn’t. She wasn’t used to kindness. Daisy had been so kind since she’d moved there. And now Jazz. Would she ever get used to it? She wiped the tears away.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to nice people.”

  “How mean was he, Shay? Was he ever nice? Gentle?”

  Shayla shook her head.

  “No. He was always mean, forceful, demanding. Nothing I ever did was right. Nothing was ever good enough. And soon, he quit trying to make me better. He just told me everything that was wrong with me. All the time.”

  “But what could he possibly find wrong with you? You’re damned near perfect,” Jazz said.

  “I’m too fat. Too lazy. Lousy in bed.”

  “Hm. I beg to differ with him. You’re far from fat. You don’t strike me as lazy. And I can only imagine you in bed.” Jazz smiled.

  Shayla laughed.

  “I don’t know that I could ever let someone touch me. I react in fear. I’m used to being taken against my will. And it hurts. Like hell.”

  Jazz squeezed her hand.

  “If we get to that point. And I hope we do. Eventually. But, if we get there, I’ll be so gentle you won’t even know how to handle it.”

  Shayla hoped it was true. She hoped she’d let Jazz touch her, please her, treat her like a lover should. But, after the way she’d reacted when Cayenne tried to touch her, she didn’t know if she’d be able to let her. Her or anyone.

  ***

  Monday morning, Cayenne was at the station early. She was ready to make phone calls and get the ball rolling. She was ready to catch Shayla once and for all. She’d bring her back, explain to her about self-defense, and who knew? Maybe they’d pursue a relationship.

  Cayenne shuddered at the thought. She’d been so involved with her career she hadn’t had time for a relationship since she’d left Portland after finding her partner in bed with another woman.

  She’d hightailed it out of Oregon and landed in Houston where she’d worked hard and made detective. She’d thrived down there. She’d been happy. And successful. And gloriously single.

  The cutbacks had caught her off guard and she’d been completely unprepared to be let go. But that’s what happened. They couldn’t keep her anymore. She’d moved from Houston to Lazu, a tiny blip on the map where she made it to sheriff. There were very few single women in town, so she’d had to tame her libido.

  But Casa Grande was close enough that she could occasionally hit the women’s club there to find someone to share her bed for a night. Never more than a night. Cayenne wasn’t looking to get involved. Never again.

  So why these unbidden thoughts about Shayla? She didn’t even know her. They hadn’t even had sex. And their time together was during drunken stupors on both their parts. So why did Cayenne’s heart race when she thought of her?

  Shayla should be off limits. For any number of reasons. Not the least being that she was the prime suspect in a murder investigation. And she was damaged. Horribly damaged at the hands of a cold, brutal man. Could Cayenne fix that? She didn’t know. All she knew was she wanted to try.

  At eight thirty, Cayenne called Sacramento and spoke to the head of the California Highway Patrol.

  “Sheriff. What can I do for you?”

  “We have reason to believe a murder suspect may be living in Southern California. I would imagine Hollywood, but I can’t be sure. I was wondering if I could email you her license plate so you could have your people keep their eyes open for her?”

  “Of course. Anything we can do to catch the rat bastard.”

  Cayenne’s stomach tightened. Shayla wasn’t a bad person. She was just in over her head. She was seeking release from a sadistic son of a bitch. But she couldn’t tell him that.

  “Thank you. I’ll send it over now. Please let me know that you got it.”

  Cayenne hit send and waited.

  “Got it. Oh, you sent a pic of the perp as well. Thank you.” He let out a low whistle. “Damn. She’s a real looker. You sure she did it?”

  “Ninety nine percent sure.”

  “That’s good enough for me. I’ll get this stuff circulating.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  “Happy to help.”

  The line went dead, and Cayenne sat back in her chair. Two more phone calls to make. She wasn’t looking forward to it. She wanted Shayla found. That was for sure, but she didn’t need to hear some random guy drool over her. Shayla was hers. She would be anyway. Once she found her. She just knew it.

  Cayenne picked up the phone and called Albany. She spoke to the head of the New York State Police.

  “We have reason to believe she’s heading to New York City,” Cayenne said.

  “So why call the State Police? Why not call New York’s finest?”

  “She has to get there first. She will be travelling from Omaha. We want to catch her before she becomes a problem for the NYPD.”

  “Understood. Go ahead and send me what you have, and I’ll get the information circulated.”

  “Thank you,” Cayenne said. She sent him Shayla’s picture and license plate and hung up.

  Now to call New York City. She called the Midtown South precinct and spoke to the chief.

  “We have a murder suspect whom we believe is heading your way. I’ve notified the state police to be on the lookout for her, but I wanted you to keep an eye out as well, please,” Cayenne said.

  “We’ll do
our best. A murder suspect, you say? A woman? Please send over her information.”

  Cayenne emailed him the pictures.

  “Did you get them?”

  “Sure did, but I have to tell you, she looks like every other aspiring actress. What did you say she was coming our way for?”

  Cayenne laughed wryly.

  “She wants to be a star.”

  “Of course she does. Who’s she suspected of murdering?”

  “Her husband.”

  “Damn. Okay. I’ll get this circulated. I can’t promise you anything. We’re already stretched to our limits, but I’ll have the department keep their eyes open.”

  “That’s all I can ask. Thank you, Chief.”

  “Happy to help.”

  With nothing else to do and a half a day of work still ahead, Cayenne went down to see Doc.

  “Still no takers on the body?” she said.

  “Not a one. Thank God we’re not teeming with dead bodies. He can just lay here and take up space. But I don’t want him here forever.”

  “No. I’m sure you don’t. Let’s get his face on the news again. Maybe someone will claim him.”

  “That would be a wise thing to do. Knock yourself out.”

  Cayenne called the stations in Casa Grande and asked them to run a story about Gardner’s death and ask anyone with information about him to please come forward. The last time they’d run the story, the only calls had come in from his former employer who’d wondered why he hadn’t been to work. Hopefully this time a relative would come forward. Surely someone cared about the sick, twisted, dead man.

  Chapter Eleven

  The next few days were a blur for Shayla. She and Jazz went out every night. Jazz took her dancing at her favorite club, they went to more cast and crew parties for other shows, and had coffee in Jazz’s favorite coffee shops. Shayla was in heaven and with each date, found herself falling harder and harder for Jazz. But, with each fall, she grew more and more scared. What would happen if Jazz was ready to sleep with her? Could she do it? She thought back to that night with Cayenne and wondered if the same thing would happen. She was broken. More broken than Jazz knew. Would Jazz soon tire of her? Or would she be patient? Only time would tell.

  Shayla woke at eleven o’clock Friday morning. She was meeting Daisy for lunch, so she took a quick shower and dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. Daisy had promised her it would be informal, and Shayla was trusting her.

  She caught a cab to Wabash Street and entered the cute little pub where they were to meet. Daisy was already there and she stood and hugged Shayla when she entered.

  “How are you? I’ve missed you these past few days. I feel like Jazz has stolen my new old best friend.” Daisy laughed.

  Shayla laughed, too. She really liked Daisy and felt bad neglecting her.

  “I’m sorry, but we’ve been out late every night and I’ve been sleeping most days.”

  “It’s okay. So, you and Jazz? Is this serious?”

  “I don’t know, Daisy. God, I hope so.”

  “She’d better not hurt you. Not if she knows what’s good for her,” Daisy said.

  Shayla smiled. She appreciated the sentiment.

  “Only time will tell,” Shayla said.

  “Okay. Well, dish baby. Has she kissed you? Of course she has. Have you made it to first base? Beyond?”

  Shayla laughed loud and long.

  “I don’t even know what qualifies as bases anymore. But, no, she hasn’t kissed me yet.”

  Daisy arched an eyebrow.

  “Is that right?”

  Shayla nodded.

  “Not even a peck on the cheek. Nothing. She’s a perfect gentlewoman.”

  “I find that hard to believe, but if you say so,” Daisy said. “I have to warn you, Jazz has a reputation as a love ’em and leave ’em type. Promise me you’ll be careful. Guard that good heart of yours.”

  “Oh, Daisy. I’m afraid it’s too late. I’ve fallen for her. If she hurts me, it’ll be bad, but I’ll just pack up and move on.”

  “And where will you go?”

  “I don’t know. New York or California.”

  “I’ll miss you, but we must not think like that. Let’s believe you’re making Jazz settle down.”

  “I don’t see how she can be out womanizing. She spends every night with me.”

  Daisy raised both eyebrows.

  “I thought you said…”

  “No. Not like that. Just out with me.”

  “Okay. Got it.”

  They ordered their lunch and Shayla devoured her steak. It was cooked to perfection and she was starving. When she was with Jazz, she was too nervous to eat much, but with Daisy she was comfortable and ate accordingly.

  When lunch was over, Daisy invited Shayla back to her apartment.

  “Want to come over and hang out? We can watch TV or play games?”

  “That would be nice, but to be honest, I’d rather you play tourist with me. I’ve enjoyed the night life of the city, but there’s still so much I haven’t seen during the day. Can we go to Navy Pier? I’d love to spend the afternoon kicking around the shops and going on rides.”

  “I haven’t done that in years. Come on. Let’s do it.”

  They caught a cab and, while they were in it, Daisy asked about Shayla’s car.

  “Now that you’ve settled here, what are you going to do about your car that’s taking up space and I’m assuming costing you a small fortune? Are you going to sell it?”

  “What if I need it to travel?”

  “Buy another one if it comes to that. But I say we sell it. Cabs are easy and prolific. When was the last time you drove?”

  “When I pulled into town.” Shayla laughed.

  “Fine then. It’s settled. We’ll sell it.”

  Shayla thought about selling her car, her reliable mode of transportation, and her way out of town. The thought scared her, but Daisy made sense. She wasn’t driving it. And it was costing her to park it every day. She’d talk to Jazz about it, she decided.

  The afternoon was warm, but comfortable. The Pier wasn’t too crowded as summer was over and most of the tourists were gone. They played games, rode rides, and Shayla was more relaxed than she could remember when her phone buzzed.

  Hey beautiful. Want to go out tonight? Or are you tired of me?

  I’d love to go out.

  Great. I’ll pick you up at eight.

  See you then.

  Dress nicely.

  Okay.

  She waited, but there was nothing more coming.

  “Hey Daisy?”

  “Yes?”

  “Want to go shopping? I need something nice to wear tonight.”

  “Sure. Come on.”

  They left Navy Pier and wandered along Grand Avenue. They found an upscale boutique and went inside. Shayla tried on one outfit after another. Daisy declared they all looked wonderful on her.

  “You’re not helping.” Shayla laughed.

  “Buy them all. It’s not like this is the last time you’ll need nice clothes.”

  “You’ve got a good point.”

  Shayla bought four outfits and tried not to cringe at the total. She knew she could afford them, but if she didn’t find a job, she’d be out of money sooner rather than later.

  Daisy threaded her hand through Shayla’s elbow.

  “That was fun,” she said. “And now I suppose you have to get ready for your date?”

  “I’m afraid so. Thank you for a wonderful day, Daisy.”

  “My pleasure. Have fun tonight. And, please, don’t be a stranger.”

  ***

  “What do you do for fun, Boss?” one of Cayenne’s deputies asked her one day.

  Go to Casa Grande. Drink. Pick up strange women.

  “What do you mean?” she said.

  “Like at the end of the day. When you leave here. What do you do to unwind?”

  “I bet she watches nighttime soap operas,” another said.

  “Soap operas
? At night? I hardly ever turn on my TV.”

  “Sure. I bet you’re addicted to Wit’s End.”

  “What’s that?” Cayenne said.

  Her deputies laughed.

  “Only the most popular show to hit television in years. My wife swears by it.”

  “Maybe I’ll check it out.” But she knew she wouldn’t. Her TV was for sports only. She didn’t waste her time watching soap operas, nighttime or daytime. She didn’t have the energy.

  “Come over tonight, Boss. I’ll barbecue and you can watch TV with us.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it. I’ve got plans though. I’ll take a raincheck?”

  “Gotcha. Sounds good.”

  It was finally quitting time and Cayenne went home to take a nice, cool shower. Clean and refreshed, she dressed in khaki cargo shorts and a black golf shirt. Black brought out her eyes and didn’t clash with her hair. She ran some gel through her hair and checked herself out in the mirror. She looked good. She was certain she’d score tonight.

  She pulled into Casa Grande and drove past her usual bar and motel. She went through downtown with its bustling streets and crowds waiting to get into the bars. She kept driving. She pulled into a motel just outside of town and checked in. Situated, she walked to the nondescript brick building just down the street.

  Cayenne heard the music as she crossed the parking lot and walked up to the front door. She paid her cover, got her hand stamped, and walked into the well-lit establishment. There were women everywhere. Groups of women, couples, butches, and femmes. Women everywhere. Cayenne let out a sigh of contentment. She was where she needed to be.

  She went to the bar and ordered a whisky neat. She downed it and asked for another. She took the second one with her as she made her rounds through the club. She was trying to ascertain who was single and who was with someone. It was hard to tell with the twosomes, and she had to study several groups to see if they were coupled off. She finally found a group who looked to be a bunch of friends just having fun. She approached the table, focused on a petite brunette whose black hair hung to her shoulders and brown eyes looked like pools of chocolate.

  “Excuse me,” Cayenne said. “Would you like to dance?”

  She was greeted with a chorus of “ooooh’s” as the brunette walked over to her.