CHAPTER 2

Kelly was racing the sun to the west side of the mountains. From out her window, she could still see the red star miles ahead of her, always on the horizon. Never had she been able to catch it, and never had she been able to outrun it.

CHAPTER 4

The elevator doors opened. Lieutenant Bradford was leaning against the lobby hallway holding a pack of GPC Reds and lighter when Kelly exited.

“Lieutenant Bradford, I do believe you’re waiting on me.”

He stepped forward. “What’s your interest in Steve’s case, Ms. Reed?”

“You remembered my name. Well, what’s your interest? It seems odd a detective would oppose finding a missing person. Did she do something to you?”

“Let me explain to you how law enforcement works.”

“Oh please, would you? Get out of my way, dick.”

She brushed past Bradford avoiding his grasp and headed for the front door. Her pride only let her get five steps before she spun back and cocked her hip.

“Why don’t you crawl back into your little hole and google ‘Kelly Reed DEA.’ Then suck it.”

CHAPTER 5

Kelly hung up the phone and turned onto Colfax Street, the longest single stretch of city pavement anywhere in the United States—the filth of Denver.

It was law enforcement’s busiest area to patrol, and most dangerous. The lawlessness that flowed along the avenue justified every young man’s desire to become a cop. Rookie officers in search of action vied to police the endless street and its colorful collage of neighborhoods.

Blame the rock group Nirvana and all the other Seattle bands for Denver’s grunge population, all living on their claimed piece of the strip. Only the grungsters could make the poor and have-nots look cool. The same couldn’t be said for the corner prostitutes and the coalition of users who marked their territory with discarded syringes and busted crack pipes.

Kelly cruised along, taking in the vast number of scenes. Three Englewood cop cars had an old Lincoln Continental boxed in along the curb. Five officers stood over two black males belly-down on the pavement.

Four blocks further on the other side of the street, another cop car, lights flashing, was pulled in behind a Chevy Malibu that had an outdated temp tag in the back window and a dealer tag still bolted to the bumper. On the shoulder of the road, the officer argued with the driver—an offensively fat black woman in a green Fila tank top barely containing tits that surpassed her belly. An over-the-top blonde weave and long blue fingernails jutting from her stout fingertips made the sun glaring off her gold grill seem reasonable. A camel toe as long as a hotdog bun imprinting the crotch of her white over-stretched spandex shorts rounded out the one-woman circus.

CHAPTER 24

Mitchell ran a finger under his nose. “Okay, Imelda. Show us the body.”

The doctor and her colleague rolled the gurney out of the back of the van. She unzipped the body bag to the dead woman’s chest.

Cayetano brushed the woman’s hair from her face, exposing a sharp-lined jaw, high cheekbones, and brown eyes with long natural lashes. The paling of death faded her beauty as rigor locked her face in an expression of terror that would challenge the best morticians to erase.

“Recognize her?” Mitchell asked.

“Yeah. That’s the Chicana from the holding tank the night Bradford had me arrested.”

Cayetano opened the dead woman’s mouth and shined a penlight to show Kelly the woman’s severed tongue. “We usually see this type of mutilation with informants.”

“This girl wasn’t an informant. Something is wrong here, Mitch. It feels like—”

“Like it’s related to Elena Rivera’s disappearance?”

Kelly glared at Mitchell. “Like it’s because she knew Elena, and had talked to me after Bradford visited the tank. Like this is partly my fault.” Kelly dumped her cup and slung it across the parking lot. “Your coffee suddenly tastes like shit.”

Mitchell gave her some space before trailing behind her as she sauntered toward a soda machine in front of the supermarket.

Kelly inserted a dollar bill and punched the Mountain Dew button. The can banged and knocked its way through the machine’s mechanism. Somewhere in the process it stuck.

“Argh!” She rocked the soda machine back and forth until the can dislodged.

Mitchell gawked as she downed the soda in one drink then whipped out another dollar and assaulted the machine for another can.

Kelly leaned back against a rack of shopping carts. “I alone am responsible for this city’s sudden increase in homicides. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? I’m supposed to be looking for a missing girl, not fighting with gangbangers and a dirty cop. And now I’ve got the FBI’s CT Division looking over my shoulder.”

“You think this is a fight? No, this is a war. It’s a war Eleanor Rivera declared for justice and paid you to wage. That might make you sound like a mercenary, but the truth of the matter is you are the Riveras’ only champion. It’s a war the citizens of Denver support, and one with a hero they can rally behind.”

“Cut the shit, Mitch. I’m not in the mood.”

“Well, then, you better grow thicker skin, because I’m trying to tell you something. No one goes to such extremes to keep a body hidden unless there is a real reason for it. You think these gangbangers are shooting up the town and killing people because they’re tough? Hell no! It’s because they’re scared. Scared of you.”

Mitchell caught Kelly’s eyes with his own. “Who is she going to pop first? Who’s going to be the first to break and tell her everything? That’s what they’re all asking themselves, and it has them running scared.”

Kelly pointed toward the M.E.’s van. “That girl was a friend of Elena’s, and I’m not convinced gangbangers killed her. The way she unloaded on Bradford when I accused him of being involved in Elena’s disappearance, I’m telling you, your fellow detective is guilty of something.”

Mitchell stood straight and took a deep breath. “That’s it then. I’m reopening the investigation. We’ll work it together.”

“Can I go home now?”

“No, not yet.”

CHAPTER 33

“What a beautiful blood moon.” Kelly sat alone under the stars on the back deck of the cabin, looking up at the night sky, feeling like a thief admiring her loot—a celestial ruby set afire among hundreds of white diamonds sparkling against a dark velvet cloth.

CHAPTER 50

Every critter, bug, and beast with a voice sang their midnight melody together as a woodland choir.

A fiery wad of twigs crackled and popped beneath a stack of burning logs, sending an endless band of sparks jettisoning skyward before their tiny lights faded away. A yellow flame danced along the logs in the canyon breeze with a steady rhythm that hypnotized Kelly as she lay against a fallen oak.

Across the river, a crescent moon cast a beam of cool light between the treetops and over an area of water. The Big Dipper flickered among a mass of stars stretched across the purplish sky.

The drawn-out unzipping of Lori’s tent crushed the night’s ode.

CHAPTER 52

The pool was closed to guests after eleven o’clock, or so the sign read.

When Dr. Wallace decided to take an evening stroll, he became concerned, curious to say the least, wandering upon Kelly in the pool half-past midnight. She floated lifelessly on her back in a blue and white striped bikini top and a pair of navy swim shorts, transfixed on the stars above. Floating nearby was a half-empty fifth of Jim Beam.

“Ms. Reed?”

“All the times you’ve been out in the vast ocean, did you ever just relax on deck and stare up at the stars?”

“On several occasions, I recall. Perhaps more often in my youth than my later years.”

“I could float here all night staring at the stars, not caring about anything or anyone.”

Wallace looked around and saw no one about. He lowered his head for a mere second then focused back on Kelly.

“Back in Denver there’s a mother counting on me to find her daughter, and I’m close to achieving that goal. I bet I could throw a rock into the river and hit her, but a park ranger is more concerned with some damn fish that might die from the echo of a sonar signal. How do I explain that to my client? I’m sorry ma’am, but fish are more important than your murdered daughter.”

“I see now why you are out here all alone.”

“Yeah, Doc, why is that?”

“To enjoy a little self-loathing with your late-night cocktail.”

Kelly chuckled. “The bourbon is to get rid of the loathing’s aftertaste.”

She slung the bottle out of the pool toward Wallace. It landed in the shrubbery that decorated the hotel’s terrace. “Have a drink, Doc.”

Wallace dug it out of the bushes and blew the dirt and woodchips off the stem. “Considering the setback we suffered today and seeing it’s late, why night?”

He watched Kelly swirl her arms and hands around under the water. “You don’t intend on quitting after making that tirade in Mr. Johnston’s room do you, Ms. Reed?”

“I don’t quit, Doc. I just loathe while I figure shit out, and then I’m back in the saddle.”

Kelly exhaled every ounce of air from her lungs and slowly sank to the bottom of the pool.

CHAPTER 56

Lightning flashed violently. Booming thunder rattled the windows of their hotel rooms as the unwavering rain pounded on cars and pinged off the aluminum canopy of the walkway. The storm had already knocked out most of the power in Grand Junction, including the hotel’s air condition.

Kelly leaned against the open door of her hotel room with her arms crossed. Raindrops bounced in against her bare feet. A sleeveless Worlds of Fun tee shirt and vintage Kansas City Kings game shorts did little to shield her from the cold air whipping through, drawing goosebumps to the surface of her arms.

Eight straight hours of heavy rain with no end in sight. Flash flooding made diving too dangerous.

She felt weighed down by the weather pummeling around her. Her dark serious eyes rested on a pensive expression, watching the grit and filth of the parking lot wash away with the handful of hours she had left.

[…]

Kelly turned her attention back to the storm. Its rumbling thunder began to sound more and more like a fiendish god’s insolent laughter.

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