Be Mine (29 page)

Across San Francisco,
Frank Yarrow
studied his cell phone after talking with the stranger who was looking for him.

Who was that guy?

The caller’s number had been blocked. Yarrow had been caught off
guard. Hoping the call was from Molly, he’d answered without thinking.

Saying that he was “Len,” and that Frank was in Costa
Rica, was quick. But he’d likely blown it. The stranger sounded smart. Said
he was an “old friend.” Yarrow didn’t recognize the voice and the guy didn’t
give a name. He was smooth. Too smooth. And now he knew about Chicago.

Assume the worst, Yarrow told himself in the shower.

He didn’t know who’d called or how the guy had gotten his number,
but he had his suspicions. His ex must’ve somehow put them on to him and they
were getting close. He’d likely been sloppy along the way, probably with bank
or credit cards. Sometimes he just didn’t think clearly. Old habits die hard.

His mouth went dry.

He forced himself to be calm.
Relax.
He needed to think now
and it was difficult to think. He’d always known that sooner or later they’d
pick up on something from Chicago.

And then they’d get the whole story about him.

Things had gone so bad back there. It was just a question of time
that they’d lock on to him. But he couldn’t let it happen before he
accomplished what he’d set out to do.

Yarrow needed to get through to Molly. Needed to convince her of the
deeper significance of their current circumstances. For chrissake, she had to
have given some thought to what he’d told her. About what she meant to him. She
had to realize, especially now after everything that’d happened, that she
needed him as much as he needed her.

He got dressed.

She had to look into her heart the way he did and accept the truth.
That they had something once. It wasn’t perfect but it was good and they could
get it back and make it stronger than ever before.

It was meant to be.

Why couldn’t she see that?

Why, Molly?

How many ways and how many times did he have to communicate to her
that she was not merely the right answer for his crisis?

She was the only answer.

If she would only understand that this was how it was supposed to
work for them, then he could fix everything in the past. He could repair all
the damage because he’d have her. And once he was secure in her love, there was
nothing he couldn’t do.

If she rejected him, then there was only one thing he would do. It
was his final option. Yarrow gazed into the small framed photograph. A nice
shot of him with Molly, both smiling. Happier times. He could make her happy
again. If she would only realize it.

Without her he was no one. Nothing.

A zero.

He knew about all the high-powered guys she’d known.

The lawyers, the movie people, the pilots, the federal agents and
detectives. How she’d met all kinds because of her profession and her work on
the TV crime show. Exciting glamorous stuff. But he also knew her upbringing.
Knew she was intelligent enough to accept that it was not the job, but the man,
that counted.

A corporate security consultant. That’s what he was doing now. It
wasn’t a lie. Not really. He looked across the room at his uniform hanging in
the closet. He was an eleven-dollar-an-hour security guard.

Hold on. This was just temporary. He’d done better. And he’d do
better again. The important thing was that he was here, close to her. Using all
he knew to watch over her, to ensure that she was safe while she considered his
proposal and their future together.

He was so vigilant.

At times when he watched her from a distance, it hurt. He wanted to
get closer. Molly had to realize that no one needed her more right now than he
did.

She was his only hope.

Molly had to admit that she needed him as much as he needed her. She
had to understand that together they could get through this.

Yarrow closed his eyes and dreamed of the days when it was good for
them. Days when he would take her hand and pull her close. It was a time when
he believed he would always be with her and they would live forever. Then his
life took a few wrong turns, forcing him on a long, hurt-filled road that led
him back to Molly.

It was crystalline to him.

Molly had to see that he would help her through her pain as she
would help him overcome his.

She was his answer. Now more than ever.

Yes, the call just now was upsetting. It had unnerved him. They were
looking for him because of Chicago. It was such a mess back there. They were
closing in and time was running out.

He met Molly’s eyes in the picture.

If time was running out on him, then it was running out on her too.

After considering the situation
all day
long, Tom Reed finally decided it was time to offer up a story about the San
Francisco Police Department’s suspect list.

He would not publish the names on it.

That’s where he’d draw the line if Irene Pepper pushed him.

On one level it was straight-up reporting of basic homicide
procedure. Detectives were going to Molly’s ex-boyfriends and eliminating them
as suspects. That was homicide investigation 101.

Most people in the city’s police and press networks knew whom Molly
had dated over the years. And if he crafted it carefully, the story would be
fine. Solid. The angle would deepen the intrigue once
Star
newsprint was
stained with something like this. He began to write:

The hunt for a suspect in the murders of two homicide detectives is
reaching into the ranks of the SFPD, the U.S. Marshal’s Service, the ATF, the
FBI and the district attorney’s office, sources have told the
Star
.

Tom pondered the first draft of his lead. He liked it. After further
consideration he recognized how Sydowski had skillfully played him. This story
would tick off the agencies named to move fast to get their people cleared, if
they hadn’t already. It was an effective way to tighten a key aspect of the
investigation while letting the bureaucracy know the homicide detail was
pursuing the case with righteous vengeance.

It was also a hell of an exclusive.

Della Thompson read over his shoulder when he finished. “It’s wild.”

“Think so?” Tom made a few adjustments before sending his lead to
Acker, who would add it to the afternoon’s story sked.

“Oh yeah. They ought to line that baby on front. You got a nice
touch, maestro.”

“Thanks. So how’s Molly?” He reached for his coffee.

“You can find out for yourself tonight.” Thompson bent down and
quietly invited him to join others to visit with Molly at her house in Glen
Park. “You’re sworn to secrecy.”

“What about Irene Pepper?”

“She knows, but apparently can’t make it. Violet Stewart and Acker
will drop by. Simon, Mandy Carmel, Henry Cain, you. That’s it.”

“I’ll be there. I’d like to talk to her.”

After he finished writing his story, Tom called Ann and told her he
was going to join some newsroom friends after work.

“That’s fine,” she said. “I’m taking Zach with me to the Berkeley store. We’ll get a pizza and he’s going to help with some inventory.”

“He loves doing that.”

“Did you find out what you wanted to know about roses?”

“The roses. Right. Not yet. Thanks, you just reminded me. I have to
make a call. I’ll let you know. Take care.”

He began searching through stacks of newspapers, notebooks, press
releases, and outdated police district reports for his map and notes on the
flower shops. He was supposed to call back. He found the map. Which one was it?
Here it was. He’d drawn a large asterisk beside The Pacific Dreams Flower Shop.
Call and ask for Alice. Leeshann was very helpful, his notes said.

He reached for the phone.

“Pacific Dreams.”

“Hi is Alice there?”

“No, she’s not. This is Leeshann. May I help you?”

He explained how he was the guy who’d dropped in a little while back
playing that office detective game.

“I remember. Office game boy. You gave us the list, the ‘suspect’
list.”

“That’s me. Did Alice ever get the chance to check it out?”

“I think so. Just a sec. She told me which guy it was. She marked
it. Now, where did I put it?”

His fingers squeezed a little harder around the phone. “Here we go.
Now wait a sec, what do I get for helping you beat the other team?”

“Depends on if you can help me take it to the next level. We get
extra points. But I doubt that you can.” He smiled.

“Try me.”

“What’s the name?”

“Yarrow.”

He circled the name on his suspect list.

“Frank. Frank. We should’ve known it was Frank.”

“So what’s the next level?”

“Well, did Frank walk in or phone in an order? And did he pay with
cash or plastic?”

Silence. Tom held his breath thinking he’d lost Leeshann. Then he heard
the clicking of a keyboard.

“He phoned it in, but look, I’d be fired if I gave you his card
number.”

“I know. Don’t worry. I don’t need his card number. Actually, what
I’m looking for is his middle initial.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Are you absolutely sure no one’s going to know?”

“Going to know what?”

Leeshann let a long moment pass. “So is it there?”

“G.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s G,” she whispered.

Tom wrote it down after thanking Leeshann and assuring her that no
one would know how she’d helped him.

Frank G. Yarrow. Gotcha, flower boy.

He wanted to learn everything he could about Yarrow and he was
reaching for his phone just as Irene Pepper landed at his desk.

“I read your suspect story. Page one wants it.” Tom waited for the
problem.

“It’s not bad. Do you have names of the suspects?” she asked.

“Some but not all. We’d be irresponsible to run a partial list.”

“But we’re casting suspicions on entire agencies.”

“No. The story says Molly dated individuals from those agencies and
police are going to talk to them. You’re asking for trouble if you publish
names.”

“Can’t you go to them and see if they’ll confirm that they’ve been
questioned by homicide detectives?”

“Tried that already. No one’s talking. Understandable when you
consider the stakes. It’s serious stuff. Look, if you want to hold the story
and read about it in another paper, that’s fine with me.”

Pepper bit her lip and thought. Then she reached for Tom’s phone and
punched an extension. “Hi, it’s Irene. Let Reed’s story go as is. Right.”

Pepper hung up, then crossed her arms, leaned against his desk, and
lowered her voice.

“I understand you might be seeing Molly tonight?”

He nodded.

“I think it would be a good opportunity to nudge her on doing a
first-person account for me, now that some time has passed.”

“She knows about your request. I think she’d come to you when, or
if, she agrees to do something.”

“Consider it an assignment from me to persuade her to do this.”

Another shot for challenging her, Tom thought after Pepper
disappeared. He shook his head and took a deep breath. Then he headed to the
counter of the
Star’
s news library, buoyed to see that Lillian was
pulling the late shift. She was twenty-eight with a PhD in library science. The
paper’s best librarian for what he wanted.

“Lil, I need you.”

“What do you need, Mr. Reed?”