Money Shot (32 page)

“Have you talked to Einar?”

“Einar.” She snorted. “Yarrow made her big confession this morning, gazing at him the whole time with these huge, adoring eyes. She’s not out of the room thirty seconds before he’s explaining why you’re a poor choice for me in terms of lovers, and making a case to sub in.”

His eyes went dangerously flat. “He offered to sub in?”

“In so many words.” She reached across the counter, took his hand. “I didn’t tell him to go fuck himself, but it was a near miss.”

He twined his fingers through hers. “You’re not going to let me punch him, are you?”

“Not today. Maybe after I sort Yarrow out.”

“After
we
sort Yarrow out.” He shook his head. “You’re not alone anymore, Maria. Get it through your curly head, will you?”

She hesitated. “Rush, why are you behind me on this? I have no proof. It makes no sense for you to believe me.”

“I don’t believe you. I have faith in you. There’s a difference.”

“Which is?”

“Belief requires proof. Faith just accepts.” He stood, dropped a kiss on top of her head. “You know yourself better than anybody I’ve ever met, Maria. You’ve spent years dissecting your soul, mapping it down to the finest detail, holding yourself to an impossibly high standard. You know precisely what’s in you, how it makes you strong and how it makes you weak. If, knowing that, you’re still willing to go to bat for Yarrow, then I am, too.”

Love for him poured through her, hot and reckless and intense to the point of pain. She breathed through that first wave of beautiful agony then shook her head. “I still don’t get it.”

“You don’t have to. You just have to believe it.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Of course it is.” He pulled her to her feet and she leaned into the solid strength of his body. Of his faith. “Now let’s go to bed.”

“HEY, LILA,” Maria said as she let herself into the tea shop the next morning. Lila looked up from the bakery case she was filling, her eyes tired and puffy.

“Maria.” She shot a look at Yarrow, who sat silent and sullen behind the register. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” She shrugged out of her jacket and hung it on the coat tree.

“What can we do for you?”

“I wanted to give you an update.” Maria sat at the counter and Lila automatically slid a steaming cup under her nose. “My boss sweet-talked a chopper out of the Coast Guard. He should be here by midafternoon. I told him he could be here sooner if he was willing to ski the bridge, but he felt the chopper suited his dignity better.”

Lila tried gamely for a smile. Yarrow didn’t bother. “He’ll want to talk to you, Lila.” She shifted her glance to include Yarrow. “And you, too, of course. He’ll make the decision about what to do next based on what he hears.” She looked sharply at the girl. “So what’s he going to hear, Yarrow?”

“Same as you heard yesterday.”

Maria glanced at Lila, who gave her a tiny shrug. “She won’t talk to me,” she said. “I tried.”

“There are problems with your story, Yarrow.” She leaned in. “It doesn’t add up.”

The girl remained stubbornly silent.

Maria looked at Lila. “Do you mind if Yarrow and I speak privately?”

“Of course not.” Lila put a hand on Yarrow’s shoulder and had it promptly shrugged off again. “I’ll just be upstairs, dear.”

“Whatever.”

Maria watched Lila disappear through the doors, her shoulders stiff and unhappy, then turned her attention back to Yarrow. She was going to have to step very carefully these next few minutes. Teenage girls were delicate and combustible. It was going to take every ounce of her attention and skill to guide this conversation to a place that would allow Yarrow to be honest with her. With herself.

Maria sighed. Grown women had trouble accepting that a man was manipulating them. Was a sixteen-year-old really going to do better? She could only hope Yarrow would let her help. She summoned up the last reserves of her strength, and dove in.

“Okay, Yarrow, listen. I’m not going to ask you any more questions.”

“Hallelujah.”

“But I would like to tell you a story.”

The eyebrow with the ring lifted. “Will there be a quiz later?”

“Zip it, smart-ass. It’s time to listen to somebody else for a change.”

“Since you put it so nicely.”

“It’s a true story, as it happens. And I know it’s true because it happened to me. And to Marisol.”

“Who’s Marisol?”

“My sister. My twin, actually.”

“You have a twin?”

“Had. She died.”

“Bummer.”

“Yeah. It was my fault.”

Yarrow’s eyes flicked to hers, suspicious. “You killed your own twin sister?”

“I didn’t pull the trigger, but she died. And it was my fault.”

“How?”

So Maria told her. Told her the whole story in precise, merciless detail. When she was finished, Yarrow swallowed audibly. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Two reasons. First, you need to know that people fuck up. People make mistakes, terrible ones, but it’s possible to recover. It’s not free and it’s not easy, but I’m here to tell you it can be done.”

“And second?”

“I want you to think. Think, Yarrow, not just feel.”

Yarrow opened her mouth, a hot objection at the ready, but Maria cut her off with an impatient hand.

“I know you love him. And you think he loves you.” She leaned in, stared hard into those angry, pain-filled eyes. “But nothing’s free, sweetie. Particularly not the good things in life—love, money, success. Honor, trust, fulfillment. They all cost. It’s just a question of what you’re willing to pay. And then making sure you don’t get taken.”

“Like you did?”

“This is the voice of experience, honey. Think about what he’s asked of you, what you’re risking for him. Then ask yourself what he’s risking for you. What’s his goal? What does he want? How does he envision this ending? Because I see you taking the fall and him skating. I see you in juvie and him shaking his head over the decline of America’s youth. That’s what I see.” She leaned forward, touched the back of Yarrow’s cold hand. “What do you see?”

A long pulse of silence stretched between them.

Finally Yarrow said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Maria gave her lifeless hand a strong squeeze. “Think it over,” she said. “If you figure it out, I’ll do everything I can for you.” She fished out her cell phone and checked the display. “I have to pick up my boss in a few hours. I’ll have my phone if you need me.”

Please
, she thought.
Need me
.

“YOUR SIR Humpalot’s a wily beast,” Einar said. He was crouched beside Rush in the snow, completely ignoring the fresh moose track Rush was examining. “With a strategy clearly superior to ours. What do you say we surrender?”

“What? And forgo the manly and rewarding art of the hunt?” Rush rose to his feet and Einar followed suit with a grudging sigh.

“If by ‘hunt’ you mean dragging your beloved cousin over every single godforsaken square foot of rock-infested snow on this frozen island, then yes. That’s what I mean.”

“That, Einar, was a fresh moose track.” Rush moved with automatic stealth along the ambling path laid out by the moose. “We’re close. We’re going to win. Why would we give up now?”

Einar fell in behind Rush with another long-suffering sigh. “Because it’s
cold
, Rush. People aren’t designed for this crap. And unless we’re utter morons—which I propose we’re not—there are better things we could be doing.”

Rush shot a look at his cousin. “Like?”

“Well, I don’t know what nonsense you get up to in your spare time, but I have to prep for the Yule Eve sabbat tonight. Lila’s about out of her mind over this thing with Yarrow, and somebody’s got to take the wheel while she’s freaking out.”

“The kid just confessed to some serious stuff, Einar. I think Lila’s entitled to a little freak-out.”

“Exactly. Which means I ought to be covering for her instead of stomping all over the island after a sexually confused bull moose.”

Rush stopped. “What do you make of it?” he asked. “This thing with Yarrow?”

“Kid’s fucked up, cuz. Drove her parents around the bend with her self-destructive shit, and now she’s spewing it all over Lila. The only surprise is that Lila’s so damn surprised.”

“You saw it coming?”

“Dude, that girl had trouble written all over her.” He shook his head. “
Fatal Attraction
just waiting to happen.”

Rush cocked a brow. “That’s putting it a little strong, isn’t it?”

Einar laughed. “Let your little cousin school you on this one, Rush. Never be nice to jailbait. Not unless you want to get your ass sued for sexual misconduct.”

“She came on to you?”

“Fuck, no. Never gave her the chance. I was
never
alone with that kid if I could help it.”

“She ever talk to you about the money? Or the mine?”

Einar frowned at him. “Why are you asking me this, Rush?”

“Maria’s not buying it. Yarrow’s story.”

“What’s not to buy?”

“Beats me. Something about the timing being all wrong. The money trail starting before Yarrow got here? I don’t know.” He lifted his shoulders and started following the tracks again. “Her boss’ll be here this afternoon, though.”

“This afternoon?”

“Yeah. Got a Coast Guard chopper to drop him.” He checked his watch. “Probably here already. I’m guessing that’ll wrap things up.”

“Fuck. Just in time for Yule. Lila’ll be a mess tonight.”

Rush shook his head. “You can take the wheel, can’t you?”

“Been waiting my whole life to do it, cuz.”

“Yeah. You have.”

 

IT OFFENDED every principle by which he’d lived his adult life, but Rush left his rifle on the porch before entering Lila’s tea shop. It was one thing to carry concealed. Lila didn’t like that but she tolerated it. It was quite another to walk into his aunt’s home with a bolt-action Winchester M70 slung over his shoulder capable of putting down anything from a moose to a bear.

He propped the rifle in the corner of the porch and let Einar precede him into the tea shop. He found Maria sitting beside Lila at the table in the bay window. A man sat across from the women, medium height, medium build, medium brown hair, medium brown eyes, medium brown everything.

Maria and the man—presumably her boss—came to their feet. Lila stayed seated, a tissue pressed to her lips.

Einar stuck his hand out. “Einar Olsen,” he said in hearty tones. “Lila’s nephew.”

“Peter Harris,” Medium Man said, shaking Einar’s hand. Rush glanced at Maria, who gave him an invisible shrug.

Lila said, “Rush, for heaven’s sake. Where are your manners?”

Rush nodded at Harris. “Rush Guthrie,” he said.

“Also my nephew,” Lila said. “He serves as Mishkwa Island’s park ranger.”

Maria said, “We were just talking about Yarrow.”

“Yarrow.” Einar gave Harris some soulful eye contact. “I can’t tell you how shocked we all are about this situation.”

“She’s not a situation,” Lila snapped. “She’s a child. A confused, wounded, angry child.”

“Of course.” Einar spoke to Harris even as he made soothing noises for Lila. “We can only hope that this will force her to get the help she needs. I trust the Secret Service will deal as gently with her as possible?”

Harris said, “We’ll do everything we can for her.” He turned to Lila. “If it’s possible, we’d like to speak with Yarrow now.”

“Of course.” Lila stood up. “I’ll just fetch her. She’s upstairs.”

Einar slipped a hand into Lila’s elbow. “I’ll go with you.”

She leaned into him gratefully. “Thank you, dear.” Rush said, “Can I see you for a moment, Agent di Guzman?”

“Of course.” She rose. “Excuse me, sir.”

Rush drew her toward the front door. “He stuck to his story,” he said.

“Crap.”

“Given Yarrow’s history, it’s a pretty solid story.”

“On the surface, anyway. Did you feel him out on the timing issues?”

“Yeah. He seemed more concerned about the fact that your boss was already here than he was about inconsistencies in Yarrow’s story.”

“Interesting. I might put
him
in a room with Harris just to see what happens.”

“Ouch.” Rush had been a SEAL long enough to recognize the sharp efficacy under Harris’s bland exterior. “And if that doesn’t get you what you’re looking for?”

Her smile died. “Then I let it go. I admit I’m wrong and I apologize profusely. Then I take Yarrow down to the Cities myself and hand-deliver her to the best lawyer—and the best psychologist—her parents can afford.”

Rush nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. Let’s just—”

He broke off when Lila appeared in the door to the kitchen, her hands twisted together, her face ashen.