Pink Neon Dreams (15 page)

“You’re a hard man to find these
days.” Special Agent in Charge Martin’s voice remained level, making it hard to
determine if he was pissed or professional.

“Cell service is spotty here,”
Daniel said. “Modern technology can’t always get through these hills. What’s up?”

“I think it’s time to bring her
in and talk.”

The words he’d feared to hear
evoked a desire to curse and shout but Daniel did neither.
 
In as calm a tone as he could muster, he
said, “You’re the boss.
 
I was on my way
over to her shop right now.
 
Do you want
me to scratch that and bring her in?”

“I like the way you think,” Drew
Martin said with a chuckle. “Go ahead, scope her out, and then call me
back.
 
By then I’ll have something set up
with the satellite office at Springfield.
 
And, Padilla?”

“Yeah?”

“Try to stay clear of mountains
so I can get through when I call.”

“I’ll do my best,” Daniel said,
inwardly fuming. “But be advised, the place is surrounded with them.”

“I understand. Let me know how it
goes later.”

“Will do.”
He repressed an urge to toss the
phone out onto the roadway and headed to the cheap shit motel.
 
It didn’t take long to pack his things, dump
his empty bottles into the trash can outside, and check out. Feeling more
capable to find his way through the tourist town, Daniel headed for Cecily’s
house.
 
He used the key she gave him and
put his stuff in the corner of the living room for now.
   

Although it wasn’t noon yet, he
craved a drink, needed it in a way he hadn’t for more than forty-eight
hours.
 
Daniel rooted out a bottle of
tequila and didn’t bother with a glass.
 
He swigged a long drag out of the bottle, shuddering as the booze burned
its way down.
 
He almost repeated but
didn’t.
 
Cecily would be wondering where
in hell he’d wandered and he needed to stay sober enough to think.
 
He needed a strategy, some plan to keep Cecily
out of trouble and his job off the line.
 
And he’d realized something else, something with even more potential
danger. Whoever killed Bradford knew Cecily didn’t and if it became apparent
she might realize who had motive and did the job, they’d kill her too without
remorse.
 
The stakes notched higher and
he longed for more booze to dull his increasing anxiety. With regret, Daniel
closed the bottle and put it away, then turned off the phone so no calls could
come in until he had time to ponder the situation.
 
Then he sat, head in his hands for a long
time.

He considered actions and weighed
options.
 
After years as a loner making
decisions to affect someone else proved difficult, all the more so when he
cared so much.
 
Daniel sat, tempted to
erase all his anxieties with more tequila, and then, after some heavy thought
and a little prayer, he phoned the only other person he trusted.
 
And he used the pay-as-you-go phone he used
for emergencies, not his work cell.
 

Thirty minutes later, Daniel
headed for Pink Neon.
 
On the way, he
called Cecily from his own phone.
  
He
needed to hear her voice and he hated what he would have to tell her.
 
He didn’t think she’d like it at all and he
couldn’t blame her.
 
He didn’t like it
either.

 
Her perception amazed and pleased him.
 
She knew from the second he walked through
the door something was up and asked.

“I’ve got the situation under
control,” he said, ashamed, a little, of the blatant lie because he
didn’t.
 
All he could do was handle it
the best way possible and so far, his best wasn’t anywhere good enough. They
needed to talk but not in the presence of customers.
 
Color him paranoid but Daniel didn’t trust
the FBI not to send someone else to trail Cecily, not if Martin picked up on
the slightest hint he wasn’t sold on Cecily’s guilt.
 
If his boss caught a whiff of anything but
his way and by-the-book, he’d send another agent, probably one Daniel wouldn’t
know.
 
I’ve worked under him for the last eight years.
 
I know how he thinks and how he acts.
 

A rush of new customers
distracted Cecily so he picked up her laptop and surfed.
 
Daniel knew she watched so he skimmed
The Kansas City Star,
but once his lady
headed out to assist one of her customers with picking out a figurine, he
switched pages.
 
First he checked the
Chicago papers for any updates about Willard Bradford VI but found none.
 
Then he did a little digging on the
Springfield satellite office to familiarize himself with the staff.
 
When business slacked down around one in the
afternoon, Daniel glanced up to find Cecily watching him with a frown. “Are you
hungry?” he asked. “I can go bring something back for lunch if you tell me what
sounds good?”

“I’m not interested in food right
now,” she said. “Daniel, tell me what’s going on.”

He shook his head. “No,
chica
, it’s not the place or time.
 
I’ll tell you this evening, I promise.”

Cecily sniffed. “Sounds like you
want to break it to me gently.”

“Something along those lines,” he
said. “You might need to plan on closing the store for tomorrow, too.”

The frown went viral and she
glared at him. “I don’t want to close Pink Neon! Why?”

“We may need to take a little
trip up to Springfield.”

“For what?”

If he told her now, she would
freak out so Daniel didn’t.
“Later, Cecily.
 
You need to eat—would you like a sandwich or
a salad or what?”

Lips in full pout, she shook her
head. “I don’t care. Just bring me something.”

So he plunged out into the
afternoon traffic, dodging between the mini vans packed with tourist families
and the little old ladies piloting their huge vintage cars through the
lanes.
 
Daniel wanted a drink more than
he did a meal, but he squelched the desire and pulled into a strip mall with a
sub shop he’d noticed.
 
He ordered two
Italian hoagies on wheat bread with everything and picked up two bottles of
iced tea.
 
Then he made his way back to
Pink Neon and Cecily.

Daniel found her deep in
conversation over handbags when he returned so he slipped behind the counter
and sat in a chair.
 
Ten minutes later,
she rang up a sale and thanked her customer.
 
After the door closed behind her, Cecily turned to him with a smile warm
enough to melt ice cream on a winter morning. “Hey,” she said. “I was kinda
bitchy earlier and I’m sorry, sugar.
 
I
guess I’m a little on edge.”

 
He came to his feet and opened his arms. “You
have plenty of reason. C’mere.”

Without hesitation Cecily came
and he folded her into an embrace. Although he couldn’t touch her without
evoking some measure of desire, the hug meant something more.
 
It reminded Daniel of the way he felt at
communion a long time ago, back when he still went to Mass, back when he still
believed in the power of good over evil.
 
A potent mixture of love, faith, and hope cocooned him and he savored
the moment.
 
Her body radiated tension,
but as she rested against him in the shelter of his arms, he felt some of it
ebb away.
 
Daniel lifted her chin and
kissed her mouth, slow and sweet.
 
“Let’s
eat,” he said after the short smooch.

Her fingers stroked his face,
light as a breath. “You’re too damn nice to me,” she said but without heat or
complaint. “Thanks for bringing something to eat. I was getting hungry.”

“
De nada,”
Daniel said. “Don’t you have a table where we can sit or
something?”

“Uh-uh, sugar,” Cecily said. “I
didn’t know I’d be having any guests or I would’ve.”

“Do you even have another chair?”

“There’s one in back, in the
storeroom,” she told him with a smile.

He fetched it from the tiny space
and said, “Here, sit down and eat before someone else comes into the store.”

Cecily rewarded him with a
dazzling smile. “Okay, thanks, I will.”

Daniel joined her behind the
counter,
unwrapped
his sandwich, and watched her
eat.
 
They made small talk during the
simple lunch and afterward, between customers, he asked her, trying to make the
question seem casual. “Do you have a passport?”

Confusion crossed her face like a
shadow. Frowning, she nodded. “I do. Dontcha know every rich bitch in Chicago
has one? I had to so I could accompany my dearly departed ex-husband on trips
out of the country.
 
Why?”

He shrugged. “I just wondered.”

She didn’t buy it. “Daniel?” she
questioned, tone sharper than a razor blade.

Unwilling to bleed and aware she
wouldn’t let it go now, he said, “Okay, I just wondered in case you ever needed
to go out of the country for a day or two.”

Comprehension widened her eyes.
“Jesus, sugar,” she said. “I don’t think I like the sound of that.
 
You going to tell me what’s up or not?”

“I will, this evening,” he said.
“I promise.”

A sigh emerged from deep within.
“All right, I guess.”

After finishing the last bite of
sandwich and taking a long swig of tea, Cecily wrapped up her trash and
deposited it in the can.
 
She moved two
steps over to stand close to Daniel and ran one hand up his arm, fingers diving
under his short sleeve. “Are you staying?”

God, he wanted to remain, to bask
in her presence and to be on hand in case she needed protection.
 
But he didn’t want to hover, either, knew
better than to smother the first fragile flicker of flame between them.
 
The words of the beautiful poem,
The Prophet
by Kahil Gibran, floated
through his mind, familiar and evocative,
let
there be spaces in our togetherness and let the winds of the heavens dance
between you.
 
It seemed good advice,
Daniel thought, wise enough to follow.
 
Whatever he’d begun with this woman, he wanted to nurture even though at
the moment it seemed all but impossible.

“No, I thought I’d head back to
your place, put my stuff up, and have dinner waiting for you when you come
home. I don’t suppose you’d consider closing early?”

Head tilted, her vivid eyes met
his. “I might, sugar.
 
Are you planning
to cook?”

“Hell, no,” Daniel said with a
laugh. “I’ll pick up takeout or something.”

And
take a cold shower, light some candles to make it romantic, and figure out just
how the hell to handle the situation.

“Sounds like a plan,” Cecily said.
“I’ll shut down here around four and head home. How’s that sound?”

“
Bueno, querida.”

Her delicious laugh pleased his
ears. “I don’t speak Spanish,” Cecily said and he opened his mouth to apologize,
but her finger covered his lips. “But I like it when you do, Daniel, so don’t
quit.”

“I won’t.” Without asking, he
took her mouth and owned it. Her lips molded against his and she gave back the
kiss with a sizzle.
 
Although he’d meant
the kiss to be short, a down payment for later, Daniel couldn’t resist
temptation.
 
His mouth lingered over
hers, every sense engaged and smoldering.
 
Cecily excited him, evoked carnal desire, but she impacted his emotions
just as much.
 
The kiss might’ve
smoldered into open flame but a couple entered, senior citizens, the man
wearing a jaunty newsboy cap, the lady in slacks and a bright floral patterned
blouse.
 
Their open delight in walking in
on an embrace soon switched to pleasure in Pink Neon’s stock, so Daniel cupped Cecily’s
face between his hands. “I’m leaving. I’ll see you around four-fifteen, four-thirty,
okay?”

Her smile lit up the room
brighter than the neon outside. “I’ll be there, sugar.”

He walked out into the late
summer sunshine and never realized he whistled until he climbed into his
sedan.
 
In the mood for music, he sorted
his CD collection and plugged in a Grace Potts and the Nocturnals album.
 
I
might’ve well picked CCR’s tune ‘There’s A Bad Moon on the Rise’ because it
fits.
 
I’m not sure what’s coming down,
but troubles are on the way.
 
Daniel
reflected if he’d never met Cecily or fallen hard for her, he wouldn’t be
trapped in his current situation but whatever happened, he’d meet it head on.