Page 57

For the past hour or so, I’ve been driving around, trying to clear my head, but now I’ve got my mother calling. I could easily let it go to voicemail, but I answer instead.

“Mi hijo, ¿estás bien? How are you?”

I swear my mother has some kind of freaky sixth sense, the way she always seems to know when something is up. Normally I’d brush her off, but she’s caught me at a weak moment and I steer onto a pull-off on the side of the mountain road I’ve been on. I’m not even sure where it leads.

“Hey, Ma. Not great.”

“Digame.”

I lean my back against the headrest, close my eyes, and squeeze the bridge of my nose with my fingers.

“I was called to the scene of an accident this morning. A young girl on her bike got hit by a pickup truck.”

Her sharp intake of breath is followed by a soft, “Oh, cariño…”

“She’s alive—the girl,” I explain. “But umm…it was a little too close to home.”

Mom hums her understanding. She would, she was right there with me through it all. Maybe that’s why I took Mom’s call, I knew I wouldn’t need to explain a thing.

“I was an ass to the girl’s mother, who didn’t deserve it. Hell, even to Dana, and she was only concerned about me.”

“Dana?”

It shouldn’t surprise me Ma seems to pick up on that name right away. There must be something in my voice when I mention Dana that gives me away.

“Yeah, Ma. She’s a woman I started seeing, but it’s pretty new still,” I quickly insert when I hear her squealing excitedly on the other end.

“She’s nice? ¿Tu novia?”

My girlfriend.

“Yeah, she’s nice. Nicer than I deserve, that’s for damn sure.”

“Nonsense. You deserve the best, and she’s lucky she caught your attention.”

I chuckle softly as I wipe a hand down my face. Even at forty-three, my mother still feels she needs to defend me.

“Nah, trust me, I’m the lucky one here, if I don’t screw it up first. I was a bit of an ass to her earlier.”

“I’m sure she understands.”

When I stay quiet, she adds in an admonishing tone, “Rico. This Dana, does she know?”

“No, Ma,” I admit. “There hasn’t been a good moment to bring it up.”

I can feel the disapproval in the silence on the other end of the line, so I explain.

“Look, it’s complicated, but we’ve been kind of preoccupied. Her mother died quite suddenly several weeks ago, and then we’ve had a couple of active investigations here—including a murder—and we haven’t really had a chance to sit down and share our sordid pasts.”

“Her mamá? Poor thing. Is she a detective like you?”

“No, Dana is a nurse practitioner and works at the hospital.”

It’s in invitation for my mother to start digging a little deeper, when a second call comes in on my phone. It’s Tessa’s number.

“Ma, I’ve gotta go. My partner is calling,” I cut off my mom mid-sentence.

“Oh, okay, mi hijo. Call me later?”