SEAL The Deal (26 page)

His fingers dropped the tie over the robe still lying against the chair where it had been left this morning, when the world had been a totally different universe.

His callused fingers reaching behind her head and pulled her forehead against his lips and kissed her there. And he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

The man walked out her door and down the hallway while she stood naked in her living room . She heard the elevator doors open and then knew he was gone. Out of her life forever.

Why had she thought she could help him? What insanity had overcome her, that she would agree to Sophie’s last dying prayer? And now she’d be grieving not only the loss of her best friend, but the end of the new, fresh love that she’d hoped would bring light and something miraculous to her life. And there was something else she’d discovered. Though her heart hurt, hanging parched and lifeless in her chest, her body craved him still.

She hated herself for that.

She walked to her shower, ready to rid herself of the stink of him, his mouth on her, any smell of his legs and arms, the musky scent under his chin and at the top of his chest, and—she heaved a sigh and turned on the shower. She poured shower gel all over her and scrubbed.

In the back of her mind Mitzi Gaynor was still young and alive, on a beach somewhere with a big blue sky background, washing her hair, and singing.

But unlike Mitzi, Devon wasn’t going to be smiling at the camera anytime soon.

Or singing.

Nick walked with his hands in his pockets, still smelling her on him. His fingers were sticky with her juices.

Everyone he’d ever cared about was dead, and just because Devon had thought for some fucked-up reason she was going to be able to stand between him and his grief, he’d destroyed her innocence. Why had he even touched her in the first place? If he could only take back the last forty days. She deserved way more, and now it would never be the same because he’d been so angry he wanted to wipe out everything that was soft and beautiful and right in the world.

When he thought about it, he was angry with Sophie, and that was a fucked-up thought, for sure. He walked down the sidewalk in the trendy downtown neighborhood and headed into the first bar he could find.

He perched on a black leather stool and tried to focus on the basketball game blaring on a big screen TV in front of him. The heavily made up bartender with big tits smiled, and yeah, she knew that look. She’d been doing this for a long time. She didn’t even try to talk to him, just let her fingers play an imaginary piano on the wooden bar while he made up his mind which kind of poison he’d ingest. Nothing she was going to say to him was going to make a shitpile of difference. She knew that. Well at least there was one person in the world who understood him. Some stranger who was paid to diagnose and deliver the dose of his own demise.

Then he remembered Marc. While Nick had been with Sophie and then caught up in his fire-breathing psychotic session with Devon, he’d neglected to tell Mark that Sophie had died. Marc had feelings for her. Right now that was the only thing that made him sad. So he dialed his roommate.

“I was beginning to worry about you, Dunn. But I figured you’d surface—”

“Sophie’s dead, Marc.”

The pause was difficult. Marc hung up.

Nick redialed him. The phone went right to voicemail. “Hey Marky, I’m sorry, I’m in a really dangerous place, man. But you need to know, she didn’t suffer. And I was with her, sort of.” He sighed into the receiver as he hailed for another beer. While on the phone, he nearly downed the whole thing. “Mark. Mark.” He felt the tears coming on and couldn’t finish. He disconnected, stood up, threw a twenty on the counter, slipped the handle of his bag over his right shoulder, and left the rest of his beer on the bar.

The coolness outside chilled him and somehow made him feel better. He knew where he could go, if he could get a cab.

The cabbie inquired several times along the steep road, probably trying to reassure himself Nick wasn’t a freakin’ serial killer.

“No, man. Look, I’ve just lost my sister. I want you to just drop me off at this special place.”

The guy wouldn’t stop checking his rear view mirror every ten seconds or so, scrunching in his seat several times as they came upon the field with the lights that glowed from Cloverdale to San Francisco. Even though it was cold, the crickets were still chirping. He heard a few frogs echoing from the little creeks and streams nearby.

He handed the cabbie twenty dollars and asked him if he had a blanket he could buy. The college kid got out, searched his dirty trunk and threw an old, stained, quilted bedspread at him. “Keep it, mister. But I’m not coming back.”

“No problem,” Nick said, but of course the cabbie didn’t hear him because he was nearly ten feet away and speeding up as fast as he could to get out of Dodge.

Nick wrapped the smelly quilt around him, tossed the bag aside and sat down. The lights were the same, bright and full of hope and promise. The grasses that he could smell and the sounds of the crickets were just like the night he made love to Devon, when he was sure they had a love that would last forever, or a lust that would at least get him halfway there until fate would carry them the rest of the way. He hadn’t dreaded the next day like he did tonight. He had never felt so alone in his life.

The last time he would ever touch her had been tonight, when he’d kissed her on the forehead. He should have said something else, something meaningful, something that might ease some of the pain, like she’d tried to do for him. But he’d been afraid of what would come out. Now that he knew what he was capable of, he was going to stay as far away from her as possible.

Marc rang Nick back about a half hour later.

“So when’s the funeral, or did you leave me out of that one too, you fuckin’ asshole?”

Yeah, he deserved that.
“I’m going to work on it tomorrow. I have no idea what to do. I don’t even know if she had any requests.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Marc sucked in air on the other end of the line. “She gave them to me.”

“You’re kidding.”

“You’re fuckin’ lucky I’m not up there. You need to get a couple of your teeth knocked out.”

“So email it to me—or—or fax it to me?”

“You are a major prick, Nick. Think the whole fuckin’ world revolves around your sorry ass.”

Guilty as charged.

“I’m flying up there tomorrow. Already got my direct flight.”

“’kay.”

“Can Miss Devon put me up too?”

Nick’s chest filled with cool night air and then he blew it out. “ No, I’m not going to be at Devon’s.”

“You’re kidding.”

“It wasn’t going to work. All the stress of Sophie. We broke it off, Marc.”

“Sure you did. She’s under your skin unlike anyone I’ve ever seen you around. You’ll go to your grave regretting it if you let that one get away.”

“Not going to happen, Marc. It’s already done. Nothing I can do.”

“Like hell. Well, I can tell you’ve been making some colossally great fuckin’ decisions, as usual. There someone else?”

“No Marc, there is no one. I’m all alone and it’s going to stay that way.”

“Pick me up at ten at the airport. You got a car?”

“I will have.”

“I got one ordered at the airport. You think you can find a cab to get you there?”

“Fuck you. I don’t need a nursemaid,” Nick said, getting angry.

“Yeah, fuck you, too. See you tomorrow at ten.”

Until Marc’s call, he hadn’t had any focus and wasn’t sure he wanted to do anything but join Sophie. But his friend needed to do this for Sophie.
He
needed to do this for Sophie. After that? Well, he’d just have to wait and see if life was worth living.

Chapter 28

Nick arrived at the terminal at Charles Schulz International Airport a good hour early. It wasn’t because he thought the plane from San Diego would come in ahead of schedule. It was because he had nowhere else to go. And he didn’t want to be alone.

Last night, he’d walked down the country lane until got to the bottom of the hill and found a decent motel nearby. The room smelled of cigarettes, but he wasn’t choosy. It offered a good pancake breakfast and he suspected he’d need some carbs for the headache he was on track to earn. After he’d checked in, he walked across the street and purchased a six pack of long-necked local microbrew, frosty and with a heavy, hoppy head.

He hadn’t turned on the TV, but sat propped up on his bed watching the black screen anyway. He’d thought about all the motels he’d stayed in and all the adult movies he’d devoured. He couldn’t get the images of what he’d done to Devon out of his head, almost like it had been some other man in his personal video. As if she’d been unfaithful to him. Maybe it would be easier in time to blame her.

Not.

As numb and as vacant as he felt, he couldn’t quite make himself go there.

He’d fallen asleep that way, nursing the last beer, and in the end spilling it on the bed.

The little prop jet made the windows rattle. He remembered being that guy, worried for his sister but so grateful he had Devon’s fresh face greeting him. He’d never forget how she looked that day. A little shy, gazing into his eyes as if trying to reassure herself he was still there for her. Yeah, he’d been there for her
that
day. How had things changed so fast? If only he could do it all over again.

He’d make it through the  preparations for Sophie’s final farewell since he had Marc to help him. He told himself he’d just focus on repairing his relationship with his roommate. He’d certainly understand if Marc didn’t want to remain friends. He had it coming.

Mark carried a suit bag slung over his shoulder. Nick realized he hadn’t brought one with him. He rolled his shoulders and moved his head from side to side, his neck still stiff from falling asleep against the plastic bedframe.

“You look like hell, Nick.”

“I’ll bet. I feel worse.”

“Let’s do this,” Marc said as he put on his sunglasses and they walked outside into the sunlight.

Devon had a visitor at the office. It was an investigator from the Santa Rosa Fire Department. He was an older man in his late fifties, with white hair, and looked like he had a fondness for fried food.

“Morning, Miss Brandeburg.”

“Please,” she said as she pointed to the comfortable leather swivel chair in front of her desk.

Her rear still smarted when she sat, and she closed her eyes, willing the sensation to go away…and it did. “This about Sophie Dunn’s fire?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am. We’ve run into a couple of things, and I need to ask you some questions.”

“Go ahead.”

“The police said you saw two men running into the field over the fence.”

“That’s right”

He read her the description of her interview with the detectives. “Anything more you’d like to add about that?”

Devon blinked twice without taking her eyes off him. “Like what?”

“Like were they lingering anywhere special beforehand?”

“No. I think they’d just came upon Sophie. Looked to me like they intended to do something to her house, or to her, although I didn’t see them with her.”

“Yes.”

“I was paying more attention to Sophie, with the fire and all.”

“I’ll bet.” He adjusted his legs. “Did you recognize them?”

“No, like I told the police, I’d never seen them before. They looked like young laborers. Grubby clothes and knitted caps over their heads.”

“And looked to be young?”

“Yes, definitely young. I mean, anything from high school age to early twenties, I’d say.”

He was making notes in his spiral notebook. After dotting a period somewhere, he squinted and glanced up at her. She could see he’d been a handsome man at one time, a nice man, she’d have to say. She was grateful for the protection and concern of someone who didn’t have any designs on her.

“You want to tell me who you think did this?” he asked.

Devon had no hesitation in telling him. “The neighbor, owner of the BV Home Winery.” She pulled a file from her desk drawer. “Mr. Enemorio Rodriguez. He has a broker named Ulysses Silva. I’ve only spoken with Silva.”

“And why do you say this?”

“Sophie had a small land war going on with him over boundary issues, you know. Fences, and apparently the winery was running low on water. He’d drilled wells all around the northeast portion of the property line, wanting to tap into the aquifer Sophie’s well came from. She had a very good commercial well.”

“You ever see anyone but these two over at the property?” he asked.

“Just Mr. Silva, as I’ve told you. He claimed to have a buyer, a Chinese lady, but I don’t think that was anything legit. I later found out from my manager that Silva has only one client, Mr. Rodriguez.”

“I see. Have they contacted you since the fire?”

“No, why? You know, you should interview them.”

“Oh, I intend to. Rather, the police are working on that now.”

“And why is that?” she asked.

“Because we’re fairly sure this is an intentional act.”

Although it didn’t surprise Devon, hearing the man say it coalesced her fear into one giant dark piece of sludge in her stomach. “Do you—”  she stopped and looked at her hands folded on top of the manila file folder atop her desk. “Do you think I’m in any danger?”

The inspector frowned and checked his nails. She could see he was going to downplay his concern. She was beginning to be able to tell when a man was about to lie to her. Her allowed a brittle smile to escape her lips.

“I’d be careful. I wouldn’t go over to the property without an escort. The police told me you have a boyfriend who I guess is a war hero, and he’d—”

“I’m sorry, but he’s just Sophie’s brother. He’s not my boyfriend, and except for being the joint beneficiary of her will, has nothing to do with me.”

“But I thought—”

She leaned back in her chair and put on her professional demeanor. “Things change.” She sealed it with a smile she hoped gave him the message she didn’t want to discuss it any further.