Almost Forever (5 page)

“So your husband was thinking about selling?” Justin cocked his head, watching her body language as she answered.

She replied thoughtfully. “Mark wasn't as bonded to the vineyard as his parents, but I don't think he was considering selling.” She shrugged. “However, he didn't share a lot with me about his plans…obviously. After Mark disappeared, Jerry stopped by and tried to bully me into selling the vineyard to him.”

“You didn't have the authority to do that, did you?”

“No. And I told him that. He tried to convince me that he and Mark were in the final stages in the negotiations of the sale. His offer was more than generous, and this place wasn't doing very well.”

“Did you talk to a lawyer about it?”

“No, I never considered it. My daughter's last name may be Roberts, but she is a Moreno, and this vineyard should be passed on to her and her children.”

“Have you ever filed his will?”

She leveled a wide-eyed look at him. “Why would I do that? I didn't think he was dead.”

“How about insurance? Did he have a policy?”

“He did, but after he disappeared, I didn't keep up with the premiums. I assumed he was.”

“So you never tried to collect?”

“Again…I thought he was still alive.”

“Then Winston backed off?”

“Not at first. He asked me out to dinner and tried to convince me to combine events with him. But I made it clear I wasn't interested.”

Justin felt a surge of something that felt like jealousy. He couldn't wait to interview Jerry Winston. The man seemed to be suspiciously certain that Mark wasn't coming back.

“I'd like to be in a position to buy him out. I could run the water over there and do wonders with his land.”

“Sounds like you've given expansion a lot of thought yourself.”

Lori nodded. “Just dreams.” Her full lips stretched into a wistful smile.

“Nothing wrong with that.”

Raquel returned and refilled his glass of lemonade. “Can I get you anything else? We have a delicious vanilla bean crème brûlée.”

“No, thanks. This is fine,” Justin answered. As soon as Raquel walked away, he went back to his line of questioning. “I know this is a touchy subject, but do you have any idea who Mark might have been…uh…involved with?”

She glanced at his notebook. “I don't think you have enough paper.”

At least she had a sense of humor about it. “Who did you think he ran off with?”

Lori sighed. “The rumor mill said it was a waitress named Sylvia. Apparently, he had a weakness for women in the service industry, myself included. She left town, and no one has seen or heard from her since, as far as I know. But then, she and I weren't exactly bosom buddies.”

“Hmm…Sylvia.” He wrote down her name. “Anyone else?”

Lori was silent for a moment, her eyes narrowed as she studied him. Finally, her shoulders slumped as she admitted, “I don't know if it will be of any help, but I found a file on Mark's computer where he kept all his extracurricular correspondences. Not all of them have names, but I'm sure you can find out who owns the email addresses. Do you want to see them?”

“From different people or just one?”

“Dozens,” she answered, her voice soft and her smile gone. Clearly, the admission was humiliating for her.

“Please…I'd like to see them.”

She stood and, without another word, led the way out the back door, across the patio, and along a flagstone pathway to her house. Like the other buildings, it was made from natural fieldstone that had been collected from around the property when it was being cleared for planting. A wide wooden porch with stone pillars stretched across the front. The house had been positioned sideways so that there was a clear view of both the vineyard and the winery from that porch. There were swings on each end hanging from chains and wicker chairs with plump, colorful cushions arranged in small groupings.

As soon as he stepped inside, he could tell it was Lori's home. It had her feminine but functional touch in the decorations. To the left was a sitting room that paid homage to the original Morenos with antique furniture and dozens of framed photos. To the right was a large formal dining room, but instead of heavy damasks and velvets, it had filmy sheer curtains in shades of blue and green. Paintings of vines, heavy with grapes, and sunsets behind the hills hung on the soft blue walls. An arched doorway led to the kitchen, which was a large, sunny room that Justin knew had been the hub of the Italian family. Open shelves filled with bright blue dishes and glasses and rows of spices added a splash of color. The original countertops had been replaced with beautifully veined granite that also covered a huge island.

Lori didn't slow down as they passed all the way through the first floor of the house until they reached a room in the back. The door was closed, and when she opened it, the mustiness and stale air rushed out, telling Justin that the room was not used and probably rarely visited.

She flipped the light on but hesitated before she stepped in. “It's on the computer,” she told him, crossing her arms across her chest and hanging back in the doorway.

Dark paneling covered the walls except for the one that contained bookcases. Stuffed deer heads and hunting pictures with scenes of dying animals created a macho, macabre atmosphere.

“I'm guessing you don't come in here often,” Justin said.

“Only a couple times after Mark left.” She shivered. “The room has always creeped me out.”

Justin didn't want to admit it, but it had the same effect on him. He turned the computer on and waited for it to boot up. When the screen finally opened, he asked, “Which file are they under?”

“It's under ‘Dessert Wines.' ”

His attempt to be clever, no doubt
, he thought but didn't comment out loud. He clicked on the file and dozens of subfiles popped up. The documents had such colorful but deceptive titles such as “Blends,” “Sweet,” “Spicy,” “Dark,” “Reds,” and “Exotic.” It wasn't until he drilled deeper that he saw names or nicknames and explicit descriptions of sexual activities they either had done or planned to do. Justin flipped from one to another until he pulled a thumb drive out of his pants pocket, plugged it in, and copied the files so he could take them back to the office and extract as many names as possible.

When finished, he looked at Lori. “Anything else in here?”

She shook her head. “No, but I kept a journal. I rarely knew where he was, but you might be able to cross-reference his activities and contacts by the dates.”

“Sure. That would be useful.” He gave one last look at the oppressive room, then left it. He heard Lori flip off the light and shut the door behind him.

“Why didn't you change the office? You freshened up the rest of this floor but left that one room alone. How come?”

“Because I thought he'd come back, and he'd be furious if he knew I'd entered his sanctuary.”

Definitely not the words of a woman who had killed her husband. “Okay, I get that. But why didn't you erase the love letter files? Wouldn't you have felt better knowing they were gone forever?”

She lowered her head, and her hair fell forward to hide her face from his view. She didn't speak for several moments. Justin waited patiently until he noticed her shoulders were shaking and tears were dropping onto her hands, which were clenched together on the countertop.

“Lori,” Justin said, unconsciously calling her by her first name. “I'm sorry….You don't have to answer that.”

She lifted her head and sucked in a deep, ragged breath. “I kept them so I would remember what an asshole he was. I made a copy of all his files and loaded them on my computer. And whenever I would start to forget all the times he hurt me or just disappeared, I would look at the file….I never actually opened it after that first time…but that was enough for me to remember all the bad times.”

His instinct was to comfort her by pulling her into his arms. This woman who was so strong and independent was still fragile and wounded inside. She had proven she didn't need a man to survive, but Justin had an overpowering desire to take care of her and to make her smile again. It had nothing to do with her outward beauty, because inside she was clearly so much more complex and vulnerable than Mark ever gave her credit for—or maybe any other man, for that matter.

“I should have packed up and left, knowing what I did. But I loved his family and this vineyard, and I wasn't ready to let go of the fantasy life and future I'd let myself dream up.”

“What's next for you?” he asked gently.

She wiped the tears off her cheeks. “I'm assuming things won't change much around here.” She paused. “I suppose there should be a funeral. When will he be…released?”

“I'm not sure. Probably soon. I think they've gathered all the evidence they can from his remains.” He glanced around. “Where's your daughter?”

“She's spending the night with her friend from school. They went to the new Disney movie in town.”

He glanced at the clock on the wall. “I'd better get going. I want to visit the crime scene this afternoon.”

Lori sat up straighter. “Can I go with you? I haven't been there since…” She shrugged. “I can't remember the last time I was on that side of the fence.”

“Are you sure you want to?”

“Maybe I'll see something you would miss.”

Justin didn't think that was likely, but the thought of spending more time with Lori, even doing something as bizarre as visiting her dead husband's makeshift grave, excited him. “We have to drive around the back way.”

“I have a better idea. Come with me.” She took a drink of lemonade, then stood.

Again she led the way, but instead of returning to the main building, she veered off toward what appeared to have been a stable at one time. Mackenzie had mentioned that they used to have horses. Lori pulled open both of the double doors and gestured toward two ATVs.

“Not what I was expecting,” Justin commented.

“Mark had a couple horses, but I couldn't afford to keep them. Mackenzie has been after me to get her a pony, but animals require a lot of time and money. And I don't have extra of either.” She took a cowboy hat off a hook and put it on before she swung her leg over the padded seat and sat down.

Justin mounted the other one and settled his hat more firmly down on his head. “I know a lot about horses. I'd be glad to help you find one for her.”

She flashed a grateful smile at him. “Maybe I'll take you up on that when the time is right.”

“My grandmother would tell you that nothing teaches a kid responsibility like taking care of an animal they love. We always had ponies and dogs when we were growing up.” He turned on the key and started the engine, and Lori did the same. He let her lead the way as they rode single file through the doorway and to the vineyard. The aisles between the vines were big enough for only one vehicle at a time, so the ride continued with no conversation until they stopped at the edge of a small pond that was surrounded by rocks. Bubbles disturbed the surface as the clear, pure water pushed up from an aquifer far below.

She cut off the engine, and he followed suit. “This is what makes this land so valuable.”

“Crystal Springs, I presume.”

“It has the cleanest, best-tasting water I've ever drunk…and it's free.”

The pond was between the acreages dedicated to grapevines and olive trees, and Justin looked around to get his bearings. “How many acres do you have here?”

“Forty in grapes and five in olives. I added all the olive trees about five years ago after taking a class at UT. Olive oil is getting to be a big business. I want to add flavored olive oil to the tasting room and, of course, in the gift shop. The crop this year will be my first, and I'm pretty excited about seeing how it turns out.”

“How many trees?”

“Six hundred. This was my proof-of-concept grove.” Her gaze swept over the full, healthy trees proudly. “I've got five more acres if it proves profitable.”

“Was Mark behind this idea?”

She snorted. “Mark's big idea was to make a gluten-free wine.”

Justin was the first to admit that he knew very little about wine—or gluten—so he didn't feel stupid asking, “Is there really gluten in wine?”

“Not in the grapes, but some wineries, mostly in Europe, use a flour paste to seal the oak barrels, and some filters through when they fine the wine.”

“Fine?”

“It's the part of the clarification process when they filter the juice. Oh, sure, there's not enough gluten to make a difference, but Mark was pretty good at marketing and he charged an extra dollar per bottle for gluten-free.”

“Are you still making it?”

“No. For the first year after he disappeared, I was all about ‘What would Mark do?' Then, after some seminars and vintner courses, I phased it out. Mark thought he was putting something over on people, but it cost us more than a dollar a bottle to separate it from the rest and make sure no flour touched it. Just another example of him trying to make an easy buck without having done the legwork to see the bigger picture.”

“Is gluten a big issue with wine?”

“Not really. Even processed normally, the amount of gluten is well below the recommended limit. I'd rather let a person make the choice knowing their own sensitivity to gluten than to go to all the effort to make sure there's no trace.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“What really turned us around was the restaurant, the gift shop, and the special events. Our wine sales are up 350 percent.”

Justin grinned and tipped the brim of his hat to her. “Kudos.”

“Thanks. It's taken a lot of hard work, but we're doing well.”

A glance at the sun dropping lower in the sky reminded him why he was here. “Do you still want to see the site?”

Lori nibbled on her bottom lip and nodded stiffly. “Yes. Show me.”

Justin took the lead and drove to the back of the property. He parked his ATV and turned it off.

The yellow police tape fluttered in the breeze, and Lori held back, waiting for Justin to climb over the split-rail fence first. He held out his hand, and she took it, accepting his help to get to the other side. Her fingers tightened around his, and once she was standing next to him, he realized he didn't want to let go. But standing next to a grave with the widow while he was getting a hard-on from her touch struck him as unprofessional, and he pulled his hand away.

They walked through the weeds to a rectangular area in the debris and dirt. Some of the brush pile remained, pushed off to the side after the crime lab technicians had gone through it with a fine-toothed comb, searching for every thread of evidence.

“They found his remains right there,” Justin said as he pointed to the exact spot on the ground.

“What the fuck was he doing out here?” she muttered under her breath.

Justin studied her closely, and at that moment he was convinced that she had no idea that her husband had been dead all these years. In spite of all the pain and disappointment in their marriage, it was clear that she was shaken by the reality of the moment. She took a step sideways until their arms were pressed together, as if she needed the comfort of another human being. He had to push back the impulse to take her into his arms and hold her, to share his strength with her. He swallowed, trying to distract himself so he could properly do his job.

“Was he just laying out here?” she asked, her voice shaking.

Justin hesitated. He knew he shouldn't reveal details about the case, details only the murderer would know, but he couldn't deny wanting to help Lori deal with the goriness of the case. “No, he'd been buried in a shallow grave, and there was a huge pile of mesquite trees, cactus, and brush that someone had pushed on top of it.”

Lori's eyes suddenly widened. “I'll bet that came from my property. I hired a company to clear the land so I could plant the olive trees. They were supposed to carry it away, but maybe they dumped it here.”

“Do you think they were trying to hide the grave?” Justin didn't really believe in coincidences, but he could understand how a lazy contractor would choose to take a shortcut to save dump fees.

“I honestly don't know. I can give you the man's name that came out and did the work, and you can check him out.”

He nodded. “Definitely.”

“Where was the ring found?” Her voice was stronger as she struggled to regain control.

“Right where they found most of his…”

“Bones,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“Remains,” Justin corrected, compelled to soften it somewhat. “By the way, do you remember what he was wearing the day he left?”

Her forehead wrinkled as she tried to retrieve that long-ago memory. Finally, she shook her head. “No, I'm sorry. I was so upset, and I had to pack Mackenzie's things. You probably don't know what it takes to travel somewhere with a baby, but it's ridiculous. I wasn't really paying attention to what Mark had on.”

“Are his clothes still in the house?”

Her face relaxed into a rueful smile. “They all got donated to the Salvation Army about six months after he left.”