Last Run (15 page)

‘With respect – ’ Grace removed his hand, sat up with her now usual effort – ‘how would you know?’

‘If you want something,’ Sam said, ‘ask me.’

‘I’m pregnant, Sam, not sick.’ The irritation in her tone was unmistakable.

‘That’s what you say,’ Sam retaliated, ‘unless I
don’t
offer to help.’

‘I don’t ask you to do much,’ Grace said. ‘If I did, it wouldn’t help, since you’re hardly ever here.’

‘I’m here now,’ Sam said.

‘You want a medal?’

Sam got up off the rug. ‘Come on, Gracie.’

‘I’m not in a “Gracie” mood,’ she said.

‘Tell me about it,’ Sam said wryly.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

He held up his hands in surrender. ‘Forget it.’

‘How can I when you bring up my hormones every chance?’

‘I haven’t
mentioned
them. I wouldn’t dare.’

Grace sank back on to the cushions again. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s OK,’ Sam said. ‘It’s part of it.’

‘Hormones again,’ Grace said, this time smiling.

‘Hush.’ Sam raised a finger to his lips. ‘The kid might hear.’

‘The kid’s a boy,’ Grace reminded him. ‘He’ll probably be on your side.’

‘Lord, I hope so,’ Sam said.

This thing with Terri – this probably non-existent thing – was beginning to get to Grace despite her best intentions. She had grown so used to sharing even the smallest problems with
Sam, had always thought that one of the most precious aspects of their partnership. But in this case her thoughts were so unclear, and even
she
had told herself it was hormones.

The main issue for her right now was that the instant she raised her concerns with Sam there was a real risk that everything would spin right out of control, because as wise as he was, that
wisdom tended to go clean out the window if he feared any of his family was under threat. And if Sam asked Terri a single question about that photograph and how she had come to be in possession of
it, then Saul might end up hating him for ever.

A dilemma or several in the making. Which was why Grace was planning to go on doing what she seldom did.

Nothing.

There was no sign of Terri back at the Cove Inn, but her clothes were still there, and Saul didn’t know if he was more angry now or worried.

Worried enough to call her cell phone again and leave a brief message: ‘I need to know you’re OK. Please call.’

No response as yet, and all Saul was increasingly certain of was that this situation needed to be resolved, and he hoped to God that would not mean ending their relationship; yet being in love
with Teté was becoming ever more painful as time went on, and the last thing he wanted was for it to become destructive.

He went out to the bar at the Boat House, sat on a stool drinking a Miller Lite and gazing up at some ball game, hardly taking it in, his eyes turning to the door each time it opened. And then
it struck him that Terri might that very minute be back at the Cove Inn wanting to make up with him, and if he wasn’t there that might be the clincher, she might pick up her things and leave
for keeps. So he paid for his drink and sprinted back to the inn, half convinced he was going to find her there in their room.

Breathless when he got through the door.

Empty room.

He called her number again, left a second message, half wished he had not, realized abruptly that the gnawing sensation in his stomach was hunger, but knew that the only way he was going to be
able to relax long enough to eat a sandwich would be to leave her a note.

He stuck it right in the centre of the bed, a bottle of her shampoo weighing down one corner of the sheet of paper in case it blew away when she opened the door, went over to the bustling
restaurant, ordered himself a grilled yellow fin tuna sandwich, downed it too fast with a Bud, and went back yet again to the inn.

The note had not been touched.

Crayton Cove, he decided, through no fault of its own, was swiftly losing its charms.

It was the first Saturday evening Cathy had spent at home with Sam and Grace for a while, and she had enjoyed it, acknowledging privately that she had been ducking out on them
too much lately.

It was good to be with family, and just the three of them for once. Sure she loved Saul – found it hard sometimes to believe just how much. And David too, of course, she adored him for all
his kindness and wisdom and incredibly generous heart. But it was a little different with these two.

Her adoptive parents on paper, yet
more
than that, in her heart – her greatest friends in the world, willing to do anything for her, wanting to protect her, urging her on. She still
thought about her real mom and Arnie, her
first
adoptive father, still loved and missed them, would have given anything to have them back, safe and happy – though then she’d
never have known Grace and Sam and the others, and . . .

The complexities of her life were still often too much to contemplate, bore down on her sometimes like great blanketing clouds. Easier, better for her, she had decided long ago, not to dwell on
them, to take each day as it came, and she was a survivor these days rather than a victim, and lucky, so lucky, to be that.

Kez was a new complexity. Out of her life now, as swiftly as she’d entered it, and maybe that was as well, maybe there would be less pain this way.

‘I don’t like that kind of pain,’ Kez had said.

The last thing she’d said to her, right after she’d told Cathy to go away and think. Except that what Kez had really meant – Cathy could see that now – was that she
should just
go
altogether because she was too young, too inexperienced, too uncertain. Maybe Kez was right.

If only, Cathy thought, she really believed that.

By eleven o’clock Saul had become seriously worried about Terri.

Storming out had been just like her, as had going off on her own, staying out, making him sweat, he guessed. But it had been too many hours now, and even if she didn’t care about the few
clothes and personal possessions she’d brought from home, Terri had also left her laptop behind – presumably with her precious
work
loaded. Even if she’d been trying to
score points, perhaps leaving it there to see if he could resist taking a look – which he had no intention of doing – surely enough time, almost nine hours, had passed.

Something could have happened to her – he was becoming increasingly afraid that something
had
happened, and was increasingly agitated too, because there wasn’t a single thing
he could do about finding her. The Naples police weren’t going to be concerned about a grown woman – not to mention a fellow officer – who’d walked out after a fight with
her boyfriend. And if Terri ever got to hear about his making that kind of a report, she would most certainly never forgive him.

Calm down.

He went out again, no real purpose in mind now other than to try ridding himself of some of the tension that had built up in him, not even looking for Terri now because there was no point. In
all likelihood nothing had happened to her, and she was probably not even
in
Naples any more, had just decided to make him suffer, had known he would take care of her belongings and take
them back to Miami. And for all he knew, she might have gone to call on some cop colleagues – people who might understand what made her tick more than he did – maybe she’d even
gotten a ride back to Miami with one of them.

His walk was taking him along quiet affluent streets lined with large and lovely residences, exemplary homes with nothing to hide, no high walls to shield them from scrutiny, only perfectly tidy
front gardens. Saul had seen similar houses driving into town with Terri, and they had been happy then, looking forward to checking in and sharing a little vacation time and making love and . .
.

Cut that out.

Saul shook his head, irritated by his own self-pity, and turned a corner, heading towards the beach, and that was the best idea he’d had all day, getting some sand under his toes and a
stiff ocean breeze in his face. And after that he thought he’d buy himself a nightcap back at the inn and get some rest and then, first thing, if Terri still wasn’t making contact,
he’d check out and head back home.

It was wonderful.

Stars littering the black sky, a half moon silvering the already white sand, and Saul had taken off his sneakers and was gripping them by their laces, swinging them a little as he walked, the
feel of the sand as good as he’d known it would be.

A few people around, not many, but still too many for his mood.

Couples, almost all of them, hand in hand or arms around each other, one pair laughing with pure joy as he passed them.

He went on walking, wanting to escape the lovers, all those happy, normal people, and Saul knew, of course, that in reality at least half of those people were probably nowhere near completely
happy, and that there was no such thing as
normal.
In any case, what he and Terri were going through was nothing so special, just a case of two people who’d been crazy about each other
coming to the slow, painful realization that things might not be going to work out for them, after all, and it was no big deal. Except it felt, right this minute, like the biggest damned deal on
earth.

Suddenly, the people were all gone. He was, as he had wished, all alone.

Saul sat down facing the ocean, knees drawn up, arms hugging them, hands still holding on to the sneakers which knocked gently against his shins, blown by the wind. There was a little sand in
the air, mixed in with the salt from the ocean, and it stung his eyes, but it didn’t matter because there were tears in them already.

He dug his toes into the sand, thought back to how it had been after lunch, in bed with Teté, allowed himself to think about her beautiful breasts and wonderful skin, about the way she
always wrapped herself so close to him.

He said her name, not shouting it or whispering it, just
said
it, into the wind.

‘Teté.’

And then he heard the sound from behind, footsteps hurrying over the sand towards him.

Saul turned, too late, saw it coming a split second before the first blow struck his right shoulder, sending spears of agony through him and knocking him on to his back.

He started to cry out. . .

‘
Why?
’

Cut off by the foot coming down, stamping hard and viciously on his Adam’s apple, destroying his voice and wiping out his breath.

The last thing he heard as he sank into oblivion was the scream.

Chapter Seventeen

September 4

They travelled together in the darkness, one silent carload skimming Interstate 75 – aka Alligator Alley: Sam driving, Grace beside him, David and Cathy in the rear.

David had got the call, Saul’s wallet, intact, having given the Naples police and People’s Hospital the information they needed.

Not many details given on the phone; just the bare essentials.

Saul was badly injured, had been attacked on the beach.

Get here fast.

No one was speaking. Sam sat rigidly, hands clenched around the wheel. Cathy wept softly, wiping her eyes occasionally with a saturated tissue. David was praying, silently for the most part, his
lips moving now and again.

Grace, her hands clasped over the child in her womb, her eyes focused straight ahead, kept stealing glances at Sam, felt as if her private thoughts and fears were drilling holes in her head; and
she
knew
she had no choice now but to tell Sam without further delay about her suspicions of Terri.

Not while he’s driving, you can wait till you get there.

Yet having waited this long, surely she would have to wait a little longer than that, until she saw Terri’s face, her expression, her
eyes,
before she said anything so damaging, so
potentially shattering. She owed it to Saul to wait till then, now that she’d held on to it for so long, had to try and get it right.

As to the greatest, the most terrifying of her fears . . .

That if her suspicions were
not
unfounded, then this terrible thing might not have happened to Saul if she had spoken up before now. Grace could not bear even to contemplate that.

On the beach.

Like the others. The ones Terri had been so obsessed by.

No!

A silent cry in Grace’s head.

Please
,
God, no.

Terri was pacing outside the ICU, visible from the far end of the long fifth floor corridor, vivid in her strawberry blouse and white jeans.

‘The surgery went OK,’ she told them hoarsely as they approached.

‘And now?’ Sam’s voice was a lash in the quiet air as his eyes went to the glass window, strained to see his brother, saw two beds occupied by strangers, Saul – if he was
in there – out of view. ‘Where is he?’

‘Far end.’ She looked wrecked, mascara streaked, hair messed up. ‘I don’t know how he is. He’s unconscious and hooked up to machines, and he looks so
bad . .
.’

Sam turned on his heel, disappeared into the ICU, and David, with a swift, despairing look at Grace, went after him.

Grace waited another moment, composing herself, then faced Terri.

‘Tell us,’ she said.

‘How much do you know?’

‘Very little.’ Grace kept her eyes on the younger woman’s. ‘We know Saul was attacked, and that it’s bad.’

‘They – someone – battered him.’ Terri’s mouth worked for an instant or two, but she brought herself back under control. ‘They broke his shoulder and beat him
around the head.’ She took a juddering breath. ‘A doctor told me he thought they might have stamped on his throat, Grace.’

Cathy gave a gasp of pure horror.

Terri looked at her with sympathy, then back at Grace.

‘His larynx is smashed.’ A whisper now. ‘That’s how hard they stamped on him.’