The Siren (23 page)

An involuntary smile crept across my face. “I would love that.”

“Wonderful. I’ll text you my address,” she said.

“Great.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” she asked.

“Yes. See you tomorrow,” I replied and disconnected the call.
 

Warren came out of the bathroom and stretched out on the bed next to me. “Tomorrow, huh?”
 

I nodded. “Yeah. She’s busy today, but she’s open all day tomorrow. She wants me to come to her house. Are you going to come with me?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I think it would be good for you to spend some time with her on your own. I’m sure you have a ton of questions.”

“Well, yeah, but what are you going to do?” I asked.

“I was thinking of trying to get on the visitation list at the jail tomorrow. I’d like to go have a chat with Rex and make sure Mendez is locked up. Of course, if you really want me to stay with you, I will.”

I patted his arm. “No, I’ll be fine. You can drop me off at her house and do what you need to do,” I said. “Why do you want to go and talk to Rex?”

He laughed. “I don’t know. Morbid curiosity, maybe.”
 

He rolled over enough to work his cell phone out of his blue jeans pocket. He searched on the Internet before dialing a phone number and pressing the phone to his ear. When his call was answered, he sat up a little. “Yeah, I’d like to find out how I can get on the visitation list to see an inmate you have. His name is Rex Parker.” He waited for a few moments and then cocked his head to the side as he listened to the person on the other end of the line. “Really?” he asked with surprise. “OK. Thank you. How about a Larry Mendez? Is he still in custody?” There was another pause, and I watched his face darken. “No records?”

My stomach twisted in a knot at the thought of Mendez out on the street.

“Thanks anyway for checking.” He disconnected the call and dropped the phone onto the mattress.

I pulled my knees up to my chest and peered down at him. “What is it?”

“Neither of them are in jail,” he said. “Rex bonded out and they haven’t had Mendez at all.”

“Are you serious?” I asked. “Nathan said they arrested Mendez.”

He shrugged. “He must have gotten released somehow.”

“I hate the justice system.”

He nodded. “I should have killed Mendez when I had the chance.” He looked up, lost in thought. “I wonder what the hell happened.”

I wondered the same thing.

“Well, do you want to go out and look for them tonight? I can find them for you.”

He reached for my hand, then held it against his chest. “No. Your dad was right about taking it easy. We both need a break. For one evening, I want to be normal and do some normal-people shit like go to the movies and out to dinner.”

I laughed. “Have we ever done anything normal?”

He shook his head. “No.”

I pulled out my cell phone and searched for things to do in San Antonio. “OK, here we go,” I said. “Thirty Most Awesome Things to do in San Antonio.”

“That sounds promising,” Warren said.

“Number one on the list is the Six Flags theme park. Too bad we didn’t get here earlier,” I said. “Ooo, there’s the San Antonio Botanical Gardens.”

He chuckled. “Next.”
 

My eyes skimmed the list. “What about a ghost tour? I’ve never done that before.”

His brow wrinkled in confusion. “We’re both part-angel and you want to go hear ghost stories?”

I smiled as I clicked on the tour website. “I think it sounds like fun.”

“We’ll do whatever you want to do, babe,” he said.

I leaned down over him. “I really want to go to the botanical gardens.”

He rolled his eyes. “We’ll do anything but that.”

I lay down on my stomach beside him and propped myself up on my arm. I twirled a strand of his long dark hair around my finger. “Do you think ghosts are real?”

He thought for a second. “Two weeks ago I didn’t believe in angels. So, stranger things have already happened.”

“I wonder if human spirits can cross back into our world. Maybe they can walk around on Earth like angels do,” I said.

He offered a sympathetic smile. “Are you thinking about your mom?”

Releasing his hair, my hand flopped onto the mattress. “I’m always thinking about my mom.” The words seemed to trip some emotional wire in my brain, and before I could stop them, tears spilled out as I pressed my eyes closed.

He quickly rolled toward me and touched my arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Unable to hold back, I buried my face in the pillow and cried. Warren curled into me, but even his touch couldn’t ease the pain that was twisting my heart into knots.
 

“Let it out.” His voice was gentle as he rubbed my back.

When my muffled wailing subsided, I turned my face on the wet pillow to look at him. We were nose to nose. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

He tucked my hair behind my ear. “Don’t apologize. God knows, if anyone needs a good cry, it’s you.”

My lip quivered as I nodded.

“You’ve been through so much. Adrianne’s accident, Billy Stewart, all the shit with me and Nate, then your mom…” His hand rested against my face. “It’s more than anyone should have to survive.”

I covered his hand with my own.

He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “I’m here anytime you need fall apart.”

I squeezed his fingers. “Why are you so good to me?”

“Because you’re everything to me. I don’t have a choice in the matter.”

I closed my eyes again. “Talk about something else before I start crying again.” I managed a depressing chuckle.

He sat up on his elbow, and I rolled onto my side to look at him.
 

After a moment, he spoke. “You should start making a list of questions to ask Abigail tomorrow.”

I sniffed and dried my eyes on the back of my hand. “That’s not a bad idea. Maybe we could do it over dinner.”
 

He looked at his watch. “What time is the tour?”

“Ten. Are we even going to have time to eat?”

He grimaced. “Not if we don’t leave right now.”

I turned my palm over. “Are you ready to go?”

He thought for a second, then smiled and shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

“No?”

He leaned over me. “I haven’t had you to myself in two weeks. We can be a little late.” His eyes were twinkling with mischief as he untucked my t-shirt.

* * *

We caught up just in time with the ghost tour group behind the Alamo. There was one family with two small children, two other couples about our age, and a group of teenage girls who immediately began whispering and giggling when we approached. I looked up at the object of their attention and admired him as well.

Warren noticed me staring. “What?”
 

“You haven’t shaved in a while,” I said.

He rubbed his chin. “I’m enjoying the option of not shaving while I can,” he said. “Do you hate it?”

“Are you kidding?” I shook my head. “It looks so hot on you, I’m thinking about not shaving myself.”

His face melted into a frown. “Let’s not get carried away.”

I laughed and playfully backhanded his arm. He pulled me against him and pressed a kiss against my temple.

A tall man in his early forties approached our group. He had a thin black beard and thick black eyebrows. He was dressed in character, wearing a top-hat, black pants, a shiny red vest, and a Western necktie.
 

Warren looked down at me and frowned. “What the hell have you dragged us into?”
 

The man at the front of the group jumped up on top of a concrete planter that was built into the sidewalk. He cleared his throat, and a hush fell over our group. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Patrick Henry Jameson, and I invite you to walk with me tonight through a history of violent death and mass murder.”
 

I leaned into Warren and lowered my voice. “Just another night in the office then.”

I felt his body shake with laughter.

Patrick Henry continued his spiel. “Tonight, I implore you to stay close as we make our journey back in time, for we will, I guarantee you, brush elbows with the dead and come face to face with troubled spirits!”

“We paid forty bucks for this?” Warren asked.

I nudged him in the ribs with my elbow. “Shush.”

Patrick Henry was making grand gestures toward the Alamo behind us. “As many as a thousand souls were lost right here on the ground where you stand.” His voice dropped to a dramatically low octave as he swept through our small crowd. “Many of the decimated remains are still buried under your feet.”

My eyes shot up at Warren. “True?”

“True,” he said. “I could have told you that for free.”

“And that doesn’t creep you out, even a little bit?”

He shrugged. “I told you. You get used to it.”

A chill ran down my spine and I shivered. “I don’t think I could. Time really doesn’t affect it? Like, can you feel prehistoric remains underground?”

“I don’t know that I would go that far. Bodies disintegrate over time and, after a lot of time, it diminishes what I feel.” He grinned down at me. “Whole bodies are much easier to find.”

I shook my head. “You’re such a freak.”
 

He rolled his eyes with a grin. “Hi, Kettle. This is Pot. You’re black.”

I giggled and tugged on his arm. “Oh, shut up.”

The rest of the tour was even less interesting than the Alamo. Warren was able to debunk most of the guy’s claims, but he only told me. Patrick Henry said a woman was buried in the wall of a hotel. That wasn’t true. He also said the body of an actress was buried under the floor of a theater. That wasn’t true either.
 

Finally, I looked up at Warren. “Searching for Rex Parker would have been more fascinating than this.”
 

“Wanna head to the car? Maybe stop somewhere for a drink?” he asked.

“Please,” I begged.

We abandoned our group and returned to the Alamo. When we crossed into the square, an odd movement in the crowd caught my attention. Rex Parker had seen us and was running in the opposite direction down the street.

I released Warren’s hand and took a step back, preparing for him to break into a sprint, but he didn’t. I was puzzled. “You’re not going after him?”
 

He shook his head and watched Rex dart down an alleyway. “I’ll hunt him down tomorrow. Tonight I’m spending with you.”

18.

Abigail lived in a nice neighborhood near the ministry where she worked. She had a beautiful two-story brick house with a two-car garage and elaborate stonework around the front entryway. The lot was professionally landscaped and water from the sprinkler system arched across the lawn. The house seemed big for just one person, but then it occurred to me that I didn’t know if she lived alone or not. She could have an entire family inside that I knew nothing about.

“You look nervous.” Warren reached over and gently squeezed the back of my neck as we sat in the car at the curb in front of her house.

I realized I was wringing my hands in my lap. I stretched out my tingly fingers which felt stiff with tension. I blew out a heavy sigh. “I guess I am. What if she doesn’t like me?”
 

He laughed. “When has anyone in your life not liked you?”

“Shannon doesn’t like me,” I reminded him.

“I believe she likes you more than you think she does,” he said. “Sloan, Abigail is going to love you. You’re going to get the answers you have looked for your entire life. This is a good thing.”

I nodded. “I know. OK, I’m ready.”

We got out of the car and walked up the path to the front door. I rang the bell and a moment later, Abigail opened it.

“You made it!” she cheered as she stepped out to give me a hug.

When the initial shock from her embrace subsided, her arms felt awkward around me, like I was hugging a radioactive stranger in the supermarket. She pulled away and grasped my hands. “It’s true. I can’t believe this moment is here.” She looked close to tears as she studied my face for a moment so long it creeped me out a bit.

I pulled my hands away.

She took a deep breath and let out a sing-song sigh as she stepped to the side. “Well, come on in.”

I looked at Warren.
 

He brushed a loose strand of hair from my cheek. “You good?”
 

I nodded. “Yeah. You can go.”

Abigail’s eyes widened. “You’re not staying?”
 

He shook his head. “No, ma’am. I think you two should have some girl time.” He leaned over and kissed my lips. “Call me when you’re about ready to go and I’ll come pick you up.”

“I love you,” I said.

He squeezed my hand. “I love you too.” He lowered his voice and whispered in my ear. “Relax.”

When he turned to leave, I followed Abigail inside. The inside of the house was beautiful and very tastefully decorated in hues of blue and brown. She had the same Pottery Barn formal dining table that I did, which made me laugh. I wondered if she didn’t use hers either. There was a large, brown leather sectional sofa in her huge living room that faced a sixty inch television screen on the wall. The kitchen, with tall white cabinets and marble countertops, overlooked the living area.

I ran my hand over the soft leather of the sofa. “Your house is amazing.”

“Thank you. I’m leasing it. I don’t tend to stay in one place long enough to justify buying anything. I’m a bit of a vagabond.” She walked into the kitchen. “Have you eaten lunch?”

I shook my head. “No, ma’am.”
 

She waved her hand toward me and smiled. “You don’t have to be formal. We’re family.”

Awkward.

I watched her move around the kitchen. She had long dark hair, the same as mine. Her skin tone was similar as well. We had the same thin frame, but I definitely hadn’t inherited her boobs. They were ginormous.
 

“I made enough for your boyfriend. I hope he didn’t feel like he would be imposing here. The invitation was certainly for both of you.” She carried two green plates to the dinette table in the kitchen.