The Eyes Die Last (25 page)

“Okay, I’ll toss it around awhile.  If I decide to do it, it sure as hell won’t be with LVTVS.”  That sounded petty even to him.  Tough shit. 

“Well don’t take too long to decide.” 

“I won’t.”  Nick’s jaw tightened, he took a few deep breaths and ran his fingers through his hair.  “In the meantime, I still want legal on this.” 

“You got it.” 

“I’m going to take a day or two off.  I need to cool down before I do something stupid like punch Ed Hershey.  When I get back, I’ll give you a call.” 

“I thought the detectives told you not to leave town.” 

“I’m just going to River’s Edge.  I’ll still be within the 100 mile radius they requested, and the lawyers will alert them of my plans at the last possible moment.  You can reach me on my cell if you need me or if Metro is looking for me.  I’ll update Jeff.” 

“No problem.  I need to get together with Jeff and see what kind of spin we can put on this interview Hershey gave.  I have a feeling your PR man is about to earn his money.” 

“I think you’re right.”  Nick remembered his friend had been sick.  “I forgot to ask, are you feeling better?  It sounds like you were pretty sick Wednesday night.” 

“I was sick as a dog.  But whatever it was that hit me went away as fast as it came over me.  I’m fine now.  Thanks for asking.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

“Enjoy your time off.” 

“I will.  Catch you later, John.” 

Nick got a beer out of the bar fridge and sat down on his couch.  His muscles were still knotted over the news clip of his altercation with Ms.  Mixer and the biased interview Hershey had given.  It was bad enough to be called a murderer on live television, but in an odd way, the idea of the slimy news anchor conferring with Detective O’Brien about the case was more unsettling.  He’d never been jealous a day in his life.  Was he now?  Is this how jealousy felt?  And what did he have to be jealous of? 

The way Ed told the story, he and the detective had spent an entire evening discussing the murders.  An evening trying to pin the murders on Nick.  An evening doing who knows what else.  Was there a relationship between the two of them?  Surely the detective wouldn’t be interested in someone like Ed.  Would she?  And why in the hell would Nick care if she was?  He had bigger issues to deal with for now.  Like spending some time remembering how to relax. 

Bright
and early Saturday morning Nick packed his sleeping bag and enough food and drink to last a couple days.  It took a while to find his old fishing pole, but when he did, he loaded it into the truck too.  Nick hadn’t been camping or fishing in years, but when he was growing up it had been a favorite pastime.  He’d spend countless days sleeping under the stars at River’s Edge, a popular little campground an hour away from the flash of Vegas. 

Nowadays, it seemed like there was never time to relax and enjoy life.  Maybe after the election, no matter how it turned out, he’d start relaxing more.  Maybe even take a real vacation.  He was his own boss and he had plenty of money to travel.  What was his hang up about taking a vacation?  He knew the answer to the question. 

Who in the hell wants to go on vacation alone? 

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

THE CARTILAGE IN KENNEDY’S NECK CRACKLED AS SHE EXTENDED HER ARMS.
  An oversized yawn stretched her jaws to the limit, the popping and clicking echoing in her ears.  She’d spent half the night studying her murder board.  The other half she’d spent reading through the cold case file on her father’s murder.  It was painful to see in black and white what had gone down that day thirty years ago.

It was as if the whole robbery-turned-murder had been a well orchestrated plan rather than the series of blunders that had apparently taken place.  How had the bank robbers managed to murder a cop and get away with the money?

Sighing, she set the half empty file box aside.  She’d tackle the file again after she’d digested this first round of reading.  She would read it over and over until she was sure she hadn’t missed anything that could possibly shed some light on her father’s murder.

Seeing her father lying dead in his own pool of blood was like a knife to the gut.  It was one of the hardest things she’d ever done in her life.  Second only to finding her mother’s body after she overdosed on tranquilizers.

A brilliant sunrise peeked between her living room blinds, reminding Kennedy she’d missed another night of sleep.  Her eyes burned with the brightness, causing her to squint involuntarily.  Trying to catch up now would be useless.  She was too upset, her belly flip-flopping with each breath she took.  Her mind was racing full-speed although exhaustion had set in hours ago.

Ignoring her roiling stomach, she gathered her sleeping bag, plenty of bottled water, and a supply of snack food and tossed the supplies into the trunk of her Mustang, alongside a small cooler, her fishing pole and bait box.  She’d pick up bait and ice at the little grocery/tackle shop near the river.  If she got lucky she’d be eating fish along with the chips for dinner tonight.  If not, well, it’d be a PBJ.

On the way out of town, after making a necessary stop at the Grab and Go for coffee and grape taffy, she called Wilder’s cell phone.  It went straight to voice mail.  “I need some alone time to think this case through, so I’m heading to River’s Edge for the night.  I’ll check in tomorrow.”  She hesitated a second, her lips curled, then puckered.  Guilty conscious?  Probably.  “You’re the one always telling me there’s more to life than work, and besides, Hazelwood cracked down on overtime.  If anything new shakes down, Sparks will call me.”  A slight smile tugged at one side of her mouth.  “I’ll be thinking about you while I’m eating fresh fish cooked over an open fire.” 

Reaching River’s Edge, she found a quiet spot near the river bank, nestled in a small cluster of trees and welcome shade.  There weren’t many places in, or around, Vegas with full leafy trees, much less this many all in one spot.  She took her sleeping bag and small ice chest from the trunk and tossed them next to her car.  Brushing her hands together, she admired her handi-work.  Setting up camp, simple and quick. 

As she downed half a bag of chips and drank two bottles of ice-cold water, she felt the lack of sleep catching up with her.  Her eyes—heavy and swollen from lack of sleep and her earlier, very rare crying jag—were beginning to burn.  She was having trouble staying focused, but was afraid if she closed her eyes she’d see the pictures of her father lying dead on the floor of the bank. 

The caffeine kick from the coffee she’d downed on the drive was rapidly fading and as much as she hated to, she finally gave in to her exhaustion.  Kennedy rolled out her sleeping bag and sprayed on plenty of bug repellent.  “I don’t mind being one with nature, but I sure as hell don’t have to be friends with all the fucking bugs.” 

She stretched out on top of the sleeping bag, tucked her ever present Sig Saur under her pillow and drifted off to sleep.  The thick, sticky heat wasn’t going to keep her body from the sleep it craved. 

When
Nick arrived at the campground and got out of his vehicle, he looked up and noted the position of the hot sun.  Noon.  He took off his shirt, wiped at the sweat on his upper body and looked around.  He was thrilled to find the area mostly deserted.  Heat must’ve driven most would-be-campers away.  “Fine by me.”  He craved the isolation.  The only sounds he wanted to hear were the gentle rolling of the river’s current and the quiet chattering of river insects and birds. 

The river wasn’t down as much as he thought it’d be.  There was enough water to fish in and plenty to swim.  He found a suitable campsite hidden beneath the cover of trees a few feet from the river.  “Perfect.  Plenty of shade and privacy.” 

He caught sight of an older model red Mustang hidden in the trees the next campsite over.  He hoped the car’s owner was here for the fishing and would be gone by nightfall.  But if that wasn’t the case, the trees would be enough to provide them each with plenty of privacy. 

An eerie chill snaked over Nick, and settled in his stomach as he remembered the times he’d spent here as a child.  His thoughts drifted back to long ago afternoons of fishing and splashing in the river.  Hell, they were probably the only truly happy memories of his childhood and definitely the only ones worth remembering.  He headed for the water.  Swim first, then fish. 

After all these years, here I am again, swimming and fishing the day away.  Older, wiser, richer and happier.  Happier?  He took in an exaggerated breath and let it out.  “I guess that one’s debatable.”  He shrugged off the thoughts as he jumped into the water. 

Tired from his swim, Nick sat at the edge of the water, his pole’s line sunk deep.  His fishing skills had either deteriorated over the years or the fish weren’t biting.  He tugged at his line, nothing tugged back. 

The late afternoon sun was slowly sinking in the West and he realized he hadn’t caught a single fish.  It looked like his dinner would consist of cold-cuts and carrots, but the swimming had been excellent.  For now, he kicked back with an icy cold beer and let his feet dangle in the cool river water alongside his fishing pole.  His eyes drifted shut. 

K
ennedy
awoke slowly, her skin flushed and heated.  The left side of her face and hair were drenched in sweat, or maybe it was drool.  From the position of the scorching sun, it was late afternoon and if she didn’t get a move on soon, she wouldn’t get a chance to see whether the fish were biting or not.  Tucking her gun into the back of her shorts, she gathered her fishing gear and made her way to the river bank. 

With high expectations, she tossed her baited hook into the water and focused on the red and white bobber floating gently on the water’s surface.  Within ten minutes of sinking her line, the bobber dipped under the water, signaling her first catch.  Thirty minutes later, she had a string of four nice-sized fish.  “Looks like no PBJ tonight.  Time to swim.” 

After a quick look around the deserted river park, Kennedy took her gun from the back waistband of her shorts and hid it in a pocket as best as she could.  Then she stripped off all her clothes, folded them and piled them on the ground before taking a running jump into the river. 

The water sluiced over her skin, cool and soothing, the heat of the day washed away in a matter of seconds. 

Nick
jerked awake with a start, the kind of motion that sent all your limbs shooting straight out from your body.  His fishing pole rolled to his side.  Was that a splash?  He looked toward the other campsite, but he didn’t see anyone.  The car was still parked under the trees.  The owner must be off hiking in the woods or floating the river.  I’ve still got the place to myself. 

Nick picked up his pole and checked to see if he’d had a bite.  He didn’t.  “Fresh fish would have been nice.”  He tossed the pole back down and eyed the water, debating on taking one more swim.  “Why the hell not?  I’m here to relax.” 

Wasting no time, he peeled off his shorts, took a deep breath and dove in.  He felt his skin tighten on impact as the cooler temperature of the water washed over his sun-heated body.  When he came up for air, Nick caught sight of another swimmer downstream from him.  His eyes zeroed in and he had to take another look. 

I’ll be damned.  Detective Kennedy O’Brien in the flesh—make that naked flesh. 

Kennedy
splashed through the deep waters of the river.  The cooler temperature and velvety softness soothed her hot skin.  She felt her body’s stiff muscles instantly relax, uncoiling like a snake.  Maybe Wilder is on to something when he talks about getting a life.  Her body and mind had needed a time out.  Working Homicide was a drain on both. 

She felt graceful gliding underwater and she concentrated, eyes closed, on pushing all thoughts from her mind.  She held her breath until her lungs screamed for her to surface, screamed for oxygen.  Arms pulling and legs kicking, she swam upward.  A strong sense of exhilaration crashed over Kennedy as she pushed her body toward the water’s surface.  The hot desert sun was going to feel great when it hit her wet body.  Bounding out of the water with the force of a gale wind, she waited for the fresh oxygen to fill her straining lungs to capacity.  Instead she collided, head first, into a solid mass. 

She opened her eyes and pulled herself together, somehow managing to twist her head away from what she now realized was another person.  Her lungs wheezed and she gasped, not only for her next breath of air, but for words.  She found her balance, treading water as he did, and their words were practically in sync. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

Kennedy held up her hand, palm out, to shut him up.  “Mr.  Campenelli, would you please explain what on earth you’re doing here interrupting my camping trip?” 

“I hate to break it to you, Detective, but you’re the one interrupting my camping trip.”  He jerked his head toward her car.  “Don’t tell me that red Mustang over there belongs to you.” 

“It sure as hell does.”  She took a quick glance around.  “Where’s the Porsche or Jaguar you no doubt drive?  What’d you do, park down the road so you could sneak up on me?” 

“I most certainly did not sneak anywhere.  My SUV is parked over there, under the trees, the same place it’s been since noon.” 

She looked in the direction he was looking.  “I’ve been here all day and I haven’t seen you or that SUV until now.”