Sunset Hearts (14 page)

Alan leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You’re the best, sweetie.”

The men disappeared to their bedroom. Then she heard the shower in the master bathroom start a few minutes later, followed by what she suspected were noises of them having a little fun.

She smiled. Okay, so living with a couple of horny hunks with drool-worthy bods wasn’t a bad thing. Just her bad luck they were gay, meaning totally off-limits. Maybe she couldn’t join them, but they could feed her own nighttime fantasies.

Le sigh.

* * * *

She quickly found the men’s days off varied. Jerald had the next Wednesday off, but Alan had two charters that day.

Alan didn’t pout when he found that out late Monday, but he looked close to it. “Guess that means I can’t help you get moved.”

“I’ll help,” Daphne volunteered. Her feet didn’t bother her anymore. Alan had run her to the store that afternoon so she could get sneakers and a few other items, like bras and socks, to fill in her skimpy wardrobe selection. “I don’t mind.”

The men exchanged a look. “Okay,” Alan said. “If you’re sure?”

“It’s the least I can do.” There were far worse ways to spend the day than with a hunky, well-armed officer of the law.

Well-armed being a key point in her mind.

On Wednesday, Daphne rode with Jerald to his trailer. From the outside it didn’t look as bad as Alan had made it sound. The landscaping was practically non-existent, just plain Bahia grass and one lonely cabbage palm near the driveway, but the yard had been recently mowed.

The travel trailer admittedly looked ancient and ugly, but nothing to make Jerald eligible for the white trash club.

The interior was a different matter.

“Oh.” She looked around, almost afraid to walk too far inside.

He noticed her expression and laughed. “Yeah, it’s bad. It’s clean, though. No bugs.”

“Alan mentioned a rat.”

“Raccoon. That was weeks ago. I trapped it and got rid of it.” He pointed to a place in the floor near an A/C vent. It had been recently patched with plywood. “He came in through there one night.” He tossed his keys on the counter. “It’s over thirty years old and the roof used to leak. That’s why I got the rent so cheap. I reroofed the damn thing one weekend and started ripping out the bad carpet and paneling and stuff. I know it’s not pretty, but it’s a place to keep myself reasonably dry. I could afford it. Then after Alan and I got together, I spent most nights there anyway.”

She walked forward and felt one portion of the bare plywood floor give under her feet in a springy, unsettling sort of way. “And you resisted moving in with Alan…
why
?”

He shrugged. “I’m a moron. Shoot me.”

He laughed when she held up one hand and cocked her thumb and index finger at him. “What goes first?” she asked.

He led the way to a tiny back bedroom, which had been crammed full of boxes. “All this stuff, for starters. Leave the heavy boxes. I’ll carry them. I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

One box at the top of the pile closest to the door was marked “Ernie.” The top flaps lay open. “What’s this?” She reached in and lifted out an old, pristine hardcover copy of
To Have and Have Not
.

“Those are my Hemingway books.”

“Ernest Hemingway?”

“Yes. Some of those are rare copies.”

She carefully replaced the book. “I wouldn’t have made you to be a Hemingway kind of guy.”

He smirked. The expression looked cute on him. “Why’s that?”

She realized how stupid and condescending her observation sounded. “Sorry. I guess considering I’m an English major who lived as a mobster’s bimbo for a while, I don’t have much room to talk.”

“So what did you think a fish and game cop would like? Willie Nelson,
Guns and Ammo
, and pay-per-view porn?”

Heat filled her face. He really was a lot more complex than she gave him credit for. “No. I don’t know what I thought. I’m sorry. You’re just…”

“Complicated? Deep? Complex?” he offered with an amused smile.

“And so modest, too.”

He laughed, but it sounded warm and inviting, playfully teasing. “Honey, there’s a lot more to me than meets the eye. Most people don’t assume I’ve got a boyfriend, either.” He shifted the heavy box of books out of her way. “That gives us another thing in common.”

“What, that people don’t assume I’ve got a boyfriend?”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “No. That we’re both a lot different than we appear on the surface.”

* * * *

They made three trips from the trailer to Alan’s. One more would do it, but on the return trip to the trailer, Jerald brought a box of cleaning supplies and Alan’s shop vac.

“Just because it’s a piece of shit trailer,” he said in response to her questioning look, “doesn’t mean I want to leave it dirty.”

They moved out the last of his things. Once the trailer was empty and they’d gone through all the closets and cabinets to make sure they’d retrieved everything, she helped him clean the place as best they could. After one final look around, Jerald declared it good enough.

“Better than when I moved in, that’s for sure.” He pulled a key from his pocket, removed another from his key ring, and left them both on the counter. “Don, the guy who owns it, is going to stop by later today to get them. He said to leave it unlocked. Not like anyone’s going to trash the place between now and then,” Jerald quipped.

After unloading the last batch of boxes into the house, Jerald hugged her. “Thank you for your help. I really appreciate it.”

“I didn’t do much.”

“Yes, you did. Plus you kept me company.” He appeared a little uncomfortable. “Look, I know I came off a little hostile those first couple of days. I’m sorry about that. I really did enjoy spending time with you today.”

“I enjoyed it, too. I’m sorry I’ve uprooted your lives like this.”

He shrugged. “Well, at least Alan’s happy. I was only going to move in a little of my stuff last week. You kind of threw a wrench in my time line. In a good way,” he quickly added.

“You guys are lucky you’ve got each other.” She mentally kicked herself after saying it.

She couldn’t interpret the look he gave her. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her again. “Hey, you’ve got us. I know it sucks being alone. Been there, done that. Seriously, it’s okay.”

That finished her. She broke down sobbing. “Please don’t make me go into protective custody! You guys are all I’ve got and I’m so scared!” She hated she couldn’t control herself, that she’d let her emotions bubble over like that.

He guided her over to the couch where he sat, pulled her into his lap, and rocked her. “You’re not going anywhere,” he quietly assured her. “I told them I’m taking care of you and I meant it. I won’t make you go, I promise.”

“I’m so sorry…”

“Shh.” He did make her feel safe. The fact that he wasn’t being protective just to try to get into her pants at the same time only intensified to her emotions. “You’ll be okay.”

* * * *

Jerald sat there and held her. He felt horrible for her. No, he wouldn’t make her go into protective custody even though every instinct in his body told him that was exactly where she should be. He didn’t have to be a mind reader to feel her crushing loneliness, compounded by fear. He remembered being alone. He remembered mind-numbing fear. Having lived through it as a kid, it wasn’t something easily forgotten.

He closed his eyes as he held her, her face tucked against his shoulder. Alan had done the thing no one else in his life had ever managed, to help him quiet the memories, the voices, the sounds of gunfire in the night and his mother screaming his father’s name before another shot rang out and she went silent forever. Drug dealers going after the wrong house. Later, the cops discovered the assholes had transposed the numbers in the address of their intended victims. He’d been six and hid under his bed until the cops responding to the neighbor’s 911 call found him, crying, twenty minutes later.

Alan had let him be who he was without trying to pry or pick him apart from the inside out to find out what made him tick. Alan accepted him at face value.

Alan settled him, calmed him.

In many ways, Daphne had a similar effect on him, now that he was getting to know her better. If he’d met someone like her after he’d divorced Kate, he never would have gotten together with Alan.

He rested his chin on the top of her head, gently rubbing it back and forth in her soft hair. “You can talk to me, you know. Don’t let stuff build up inside you. I promise I don’t wear my cop hat all the time. I’ll take it off anytime you need me to. Just ask.”

At that she let out a snurfly-sounding laugh and sat up. She wiped her eyes. “Thank you,” she said, her quiet voice back.

He touched her chin. “Daph, I’ve been through a lot myself. I’m not some heartless hard-ass. I don’t want you going through your life always looking over your shoulder.”

She leaned in and hugged him one last time. “Alan’s a lucky guy to have you.”

“I’m the lucky one, sweetie. Believe me.”

* * * *

The lawyer looked up as guards led Paulie into the interview room. He wore an orange prisoner jumpsuit, wrist and ankle shackles, and an angry expression the lawyer didn’t have to be psychic to interpret.

Once the guards got him seated at the table and securely locked to it, they left the room.

Paulie leaned in close and dropped his voice. “What the fuck, Tom? What the hell am I doing in here?”

“Daphne Peres. She ring a bell?”

He frowned. “Yeah, but…” He sat back. “Yeah, why?”

“The body they fished out of the Gulf on Saturday, Torvetti? She saw you kill him.”

“That’s fucking impossible! Besides, she’s dead.”

“I didn’t hear you say that.”

“You fucking well did. She disappeared off my boat.”

“She didn’t disappear of the face of the planet, apparently. The Feds have a sworn affidavit testifying to what she saw.”

Paulie’s jaw dropped. “She’s alive?”

“Oh, yes. And singing her sweet lungs out. She didn’t fortuitously fall off your boat, asshole. She jumped and swam to shore.”

“Son of a bitch. Where the fuck is she?”

“In hiding. More telling will be why you didn’t report her missing if you had nothing to hide.”

Paulie hesitated. He’d never dreamed she would have made it to shore alive. “We stopped at a dock for fuel, didn’t know she wasn’t on the boat when we left the dock. She’d been asleep in the cabin I thought. We thought she must have gotten off while we were there. My guys’ll vouch for me.”

“And you never went back to look for her? Never called the cops or the Coast Guard to report her missing?”

“She took her wallet. And a grand, cash, of my fucking money. Goddamned cunt.” He had happily overlooked that little fact when he thought she was dead. It had been worth it to him to have her out of the way and not be the one to pop her.

“It doesn’t matter what fucking excuse you use. By the way, come up with something a hell of a lot better than that. She’s alive and well and going to be the government’s star witness against you for this case. Now that Torvetti’s been identified, the FBI is crawling all over his home and offices like a swarm of fire ants on a candy bar. Your father, needless to say, is beside himself at this point.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. He goes down because of this, you’ll wish you’d been the one to jump off that boat and swim to shore and disappear.”

Paulie winced. He’d really liked Daphne. He’d never thought he’d have to get rid of her like that, but when his father ruled, that was final.

“Can I talk to any of my guys?”

“I can pass a message for you. But any visitors you get that aren’t doctors, clergy or attorneys, will be video recorded and possibly used as evidence against you. So outside of this fucking room, you keep your mouth shut. Understand?”

“Yeah. I understand. Tell Tony to send Ira Weinstein to see me.”

“He a doctor?”

“Not a medical one.”

“He a rabbi?”

“No, but consider him a spiritual advisor.”

“Since when are you Jewish?”

“I had a sudden conversion.”

* * * *

The next day, Paulie was seated in the interview room again, this time with Dr. Ira Weinstein, an old friend and business associate of his father. Paying for Ira’s Costa Rican psychology degree three decades ago had cost Paulie’s father some bucks, but the wily old man had said it was money well-spent for use in emergencies like this.

“Well, Paulie, you’ve got your dick in a pickle this time, haven’t you? What can I do for you?”

“Ira, you old shylock, I’m calling one in.”

He nodded. “Go ahead.”

“You got any paper on you?”