Tangled Lies (14 page)

“It’s looking good, Pop. I’ve got the day’s receipts tallied. Do you need anything else before I call it a day?”

Pop looked up, and Sasha stifled a gasp at how old he looked. Drawn and thin, without the zest for life that had always surrounded him. He looked beaten down. Hopeless. She walked over and wrapped her arms around him.

“I love you, Pop.”

“I love you, too, Sasha. I—”

The marina’s ancient wall phone shrilled, and Pop walked over and answered. “Safe Harbor Marina. I’m good, love. Yes, she’s right here.” He handed her the receiver and turned back to his workbench. “It’s Eve.”

“Hi, Eve. Hey, why didn’t you call my cell phone?”

“I would if you kept it turned on!”

Sasha pulled the phone from the pocket of her shorts.
Oops.
She pushed the power switch and stabbed at the volume button to turn it down when it started chirping and whistling with all the notifications.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “What’s up? Aren’t you still at work?”

“You were supposed to keep me updated on what’s going on, Sasha.”

The condescending tone grated. “I was going to call you later, thinking I’d wait until you were done working, and give you what little news there is.”

“I don’t want to be kept in the dark.”

“Stop trying to control everything.”

They both spoke at once, then Eve sighed. “So, anything new?”

Sasha told her about Jesse’s shed and Bella, and when she hung up, she found Pop listening nearby, looking sadder than he had before.

“You girls aren’t going to give up this nonsense, are you?”

For a minute Sasha just stared with no idea what to say. “Pop, we’re trying to give Mama the closure she’s wanted for so many years. Can’t you understand her need for that? Just to know, finally, what really happened?”

Pop’s eyes flashed and he thumped a fist on the workbench, making several wood chips jump.

“We know what happened. We’ve always known. He disappeared. He’s gone. Our baby is gone, and he’s never coming back. Why won’t you let him rest in peace?”

Tension vibrated in the air. Sasha considered for a split second before she pulled out the postcard and held it toward him. He eyed it like a coiled snake before reaching out with a hand that trembled. He studied it a moment, and his shoulders slumped even farther.

“Where did you get this?”

“In the office, in the bottom of a file drawer. What’s it mean, Pop? Who sent it?”

His head snapped up, and some of the old fire lit his eyes. “You had no business searching the files, Sasha. If you want information, you ask me.”

“Since when? I used to do all the filing.” She paused. “Had I asked about this, would you have told me?”

He sighed and looked away, scrubbing the back of his neck. “Rosa had a little spat with one of the local women, and things were tense when the other woman moved away. She sent this as an apology later.”

“Why is it in the office? Did you show it to Mama?”

“No. She was fighting another bout of depression, and I thought this would make things worse, bring up another painful time in her life.” He propped his fists on his hips, speared her with a fierce look. “I have been trying to protect my Rosa every day of our marriage. You may not like what I’ve done, but I did what I had to, to keep her safe. It is time to stop digging, stop making her suffer. I have had enough.”

He turned and marched out, the door slamming behind him. Sasha wrapped her arms around herself as she grieved for Pop and Mama and the pain that never went away. She thought of Tony, the brother she had never known, who haunted her family to this day.

Somehow, she had to find answers without destroying the people she loved.

Jesse felt like he finally had the engine of
The Painted Lady
in racing shape. He wiped his hands on a rag before he straightened and stretched his arms over his head. Then he reached into the little cooler by his side and downed most of a water bottle in one gulp. He’d checked everything he knew to check, but until he fired her up and took her out for another sea trial, he had no way to tell if he had a prayer of winning this race.

Excitement buzzed under his skin as he turned the key and the engine rumbled to life.

“She sounds good, Money-boy. Purring like a kitten.”

Sasha stood on the dock in shorts and a Safe Harbor Marina tank top. She looked about sixteen with her ponytail pulled through the back of her Safe Harbor ball cap, and Jesse fought an irrational urge to pull her into his arms and never let go.

She shot him a cheeky grin. “But can she go the distance?”

Dang if he didn’t get stupid when she tossed out a challenge.

“Hop aboard and we’ll go find out. Unless you’re afraid.” He let the words hang in the air.

“Of you? Puh-leez.” She leaped aboard in one smooth move, and Jesse clenched his hands on the wheel to keep from throwing a fist in the air in triumph.

She stopped as though she’d hit a brick wall, spun around, and hopped off the boat, eyes full of apology.

“I’m sorry. I can’t go. I want to, but I need to do something else first.”

“Something like what?”

“It’s a long shot and it might be nothing, but remember the guy Betty mentioned, Captain Alby? I need to go see him, find out if there’s anything he can remember. He and Pop, they were friends.”

“From what Betty said, he doesn’t remember much of anything these days.”

“I know, but in dementia, the long-term memory is the last to go.”

When he raised a questioning brow, she added, “Got to know a café owner once whose husband had it. Learned a lot. It’s very sad.”

Jesse turned the motor off and tucked the key in his pocket before he stepped out onto the dock beside her. “Let’s go see Captain Alby, and then we’ll take
The Lady
out.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

He kept walking. “I know I don’t.”

She grabbed his arm. “Jesse.”

He waited, but she couldn’t seem to find whatever words she wanted to say. “I’m helping you with this, Sasha. Deal with it.” He took her arm and led her to his truck.

On the way to the assisted living facility just outside town, she sat with arms folded, pouting, as far as he could tell. “I don’t like people telling me what to do.”

“Me, either. But for the record, I simply told you what I planned to do. You can do whatever you want.”

“Stop crowding me.”

“I’ll do my best. But I don’t mind keeping you a little unbalanced, hummingbird.”

Sasha didn’t say anything else until they pulled up in front of a fairly small, U-shaped building. The middle section boasted a pretty courtyard, with residents sitting on benches or in wheelchairs shaded by live oaks, listening to the fountain splashing in the center.

They walked in the entrance and asked the heavyset woman manning the desk for directions to Captain Alby’s room. She peered at Sasha over the top of her half readers. “Who wants to know?”

“Sasha Petrov, ma’am.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “I heard you was back in town. Heard you was stirring up trouble, too, same as always.”

Sasha shook her head and kept her smile in place. “No, ma’am. Just wanted to pay my respects to a friend of Pop’s.”

The woman studied her a moment before her fierce expression softened slightly. “Poor Alby don’t remember too many folks these days. Don’t get many visitors, neither.”

“I understand. If you’d just point us to his room?”

Jesse took Sasha’s elbow as they walked. “Nobody seems to be rolling out the welcome mat for either one of us, are they?”

Sasha shrugged. “Story of my life.”

He heard the pain behind it. “Maybe we could both change our stories a bit.”

She glanced his way but didn’t respond.

Farther down the hall, she stopped in front of a partly open door and took a deep breath before she stepped inside.

The old man sat slumped in an armchair by the window. He must have been a big man once, but now his clothes hung off his frame. Sasha went over to him and sat in the chair angled next to his. Jesse stood by the door, wanting to offer support, but not sure how.

“Hi, Captain Alby. I’m Sasha, Sal Martinelli’s daughter. He said to tell you hello.”

Faded blue eyes glanced her way, then darted around the room. “Sal. Gotta find fridge.”

“Pardon?”

“Sal and Rosa.”

“Right. I’m their daughter. Do you remember their son, Tony?”

Something flickered in his eyes before he looked away again and plucked at the buttons of his sweater.

“Gotta find fridge.” He lurched to his feet. “Gotta find fridge.”

Jesse looked over at Sasha, his own sadness for the man’s plight reflected in her eyes. She shrugged helplessly as the old man started pacing the room, voice rising. “Gotta find fridge. Gotta find fridge.”

Sasha tried again. “Do you remember Tony, Captain? He was only three when he disappeared. Pop said you helped look for him.”

“Gotta find the fridge. Gotta find the fridge. Too many secrets. Gotta find the fridge.” His voice rose with every sentence.

Movement outside the door caught Sasha’s eye, and moments later a twentysomething aide slipped into the room.

“Hey, Captain Alby. You doing OK?”

“Gotta find the fridge!” he shouted.

The aide took his arm, led him back to his chair. “I know. It’s OK. It’s almost snack time. I’ll find the fridge, OK?”

She smiled at Sasha and Jesse. “He gets like this sometimes.”

“Is he hungry?” Sasha asked.

The aide shook her head. “I don’t know. He hardly eats anything. But when he gets agitated, he starts muttering about a fridge.”

Sasha stood. “We’ve upset him, and we didn’t mean to.”

“You might come back another day. Some days are like this. Others are . . . not as bad.”

“Thank you,” Jesse added as they left the room.

Back in his truck, Sasha stared out the window. “Sorry to have wasted your time.”

“Time with you is never wasted.”

That earned him a weak smile. “It’s sadder than I thought it would be. Hard to see.”

“I’m sorry he’s alone. Do you remember him from when you lived here?”

“Not really. His wife was sick and he’d been taking care of her, so I didn’t see him much. But when he brought her to church sometimes, he seemed like a genuinely nice man. Dry sense of humor.”

Jesse couldn’t stand to see more shadows in her eyes. He couldn’t make this all go away, but he could give her a little reprieve. “You ready for that ride now?”

She smiled again, and this time, it almost reached her eyes.

Within minutes of arriving at the marina, she’d untied the lines and they eased into a truly spectacular Florida sunset. He kept the speed slow out of the marina and, with the tide low, made sure they stayed in the channel. Once they hit open water, he pushed the throttle and let
The Painted Lady
fly.

Sasha sat beside him at the helm, grinning. She tightened her ball cap and he flipped his around backward so it wouldn’t blow off, then laughed when he realized they’d done the same thing.

Jesse wasn’t given to sentimentality, but as he watched the joy on Sasha’s face, he wanted to freeze this moment in time, capture it somehow so he could pull it out later and remember. She leaned forward on the seat, perfectly balanced against the Gulf’s light chop, grinning as they sped over the water. She looked behind them and laughed, pointing.

He glanced over his shoulder. Three dolphins jumped their wake, playing in the waves behind
The Lady
. Life didn’t get much better than this. When he looked back at Sasha and their eyes met, he thought she might be thinking the same thing.

Suddenly the engine coughed, sputtered, and died. After the third try, Jesse got it started, but it still struggled.

Sasha automatically took the helm when he moved to open the engine compartment. He used his flashlight to check connections and belts, looking for obvious signs of trouble, but didn’t see anything. He poked around a bit more, then called, “Start heading back, slowly.”

She expertly turned the boat toward home, the engine bucking like it would die at any moment. She flipped on the running lights as the sky darkened, holding a steady course back to the marina.

“I don’t have GPS on her yet. Can you find your way back in the dark?” he called.

Her teeth flashed white in the last remnants of daylight. “With my eyes closed. Some things you don’t forget. Besides, we’re not far from the channel.” Once inside, they would be able to see the markers.

He clenched his fist around the flashlight, his suspicion of sabotage growing by the minute. Still, when he looked back over at Sasha, he couldn’t help grinning. She handled
The Lady
like the captain she had been trained to be. As a teen, he’d been incredibly jealous when she stood at the helm of one of Sal’s boats, taking a fishing charter out for the day. Now, as then, she looked utterly calm, the mariner’s cross around her neck glinting in the last bits of light from the setting sun.

He’d always thought of her as a hummingbird, the way she flitted from task to task and place to place, but when she was at the helm, a stillness slid over her that was absent anywhere else. She was on alert, eyes scanning, always watching the sea around them. But a calm filled her on the water like no place else.