* * *
Paul collapsed into his grandmother’s favorite chair. He took in the last hint of Chanel No. 5 which permeated the burnished gold silk, hand-woven in Tuscany. He recalled snippets of Giaccomo Puccini serenading the grand dame while Paul’s small frame listened intently at her his grandmother’s feet. Happy years. His spirit sunk low. Perhaps Grace was right. Maybe he should’ve divulged what he knew about Jess in the beginning. How could he quantify waiting for the right moment? To tell her? Or to kill him and eliminate the problem once and for all?
He knocked gently on her door. “Chér? Please let me in. You stole something from me.”
The door flew open. She faced her adversary with her jaw set. “I what?”
“You stole something from me.”
“That’s your best defense? Accusing me of being a thief?”
“Yes!” He proclaimed, wide-eyed. “You stole my heart.”
“Oh, my God, Paul! That is the cheesiest line I have ever heard!”
“It’s true. I can’t live without you. Please forgive me.” His head hung low and held his breath, praying for her heart to speak to his. He raised his eyes, facing his destiny. He didn’t expect her eyes to be so cold. He always felt they could work out any problem that confronted them. They were a team. You lied.
“Do you want me to call a cab? Or will you take me to the train station?”
“Can we get through the night? Talk about this in the morning?”
“No.”
“Grace, it’s late. You wouldn’t get back to town until nine or so.”
“That’s fine.”
“At least let me drive you.”
“Okay, I’m all packed.”
“Wow, no second chances?”
“No.”
“Are you going to stay at the house?”
“No. I’ll find a hotel until I can get my place back.”
“What are you saying, chér?”
“I can’t build a life on deceit.”
“You have no idea what I have been keeping from you, and not because I am a deceitful person. Jess is dangerous. Deadly. I have only tried to protect you. If you can’t believe that, then you don’t know me! And I don’t know you either. I thought you had more faith in me than— I guess you’re right,” he stammered. “Better to find out now, before—”
Grace stepped back and closed the door.
Paul squeezed his fists until his knuckles ached. How could things have turned so quickly? He made love to her twenty-four hours ago. His stomach clenched. He had experienced broken bones, shrapnel, injuries that would put a strong man down, but never had he experienced anything that hurt more than this aching heart.
* * *
Grace laid her cheek against the pillow. A tear slipped down her cheek and rested on her lips, leaving a salty taste in her mouth. Her phone hummed six inches from her face. She stared at the lit screen. Darren Sheppard. She welcomed the diversion. However, she was frozen in time. Her heart felt paralyzed. The call went to voicemail.
* * *
Jess shivered. He hated Sacramento fog. His heavy sweater couldn’t ward off the damp intrusion. He counted the rings, cold plastic plastered against his ear. “Fuck,” he mumbled into the small device waiting for her greeting to end. “Yeah, Grace, it’s Darren Sheppard. I want to make sure you’re going to be in your office next week. I’m looking forward to our session. I have so much to tell. I’m half-crazy with worry that you won’t be there. Can you call me? Reassure me? Please? I’m in a bad place right now. If we could just talk for a few minutes, I’m sure it would help. I’ll wait for your call. Okay. Thanks.” He stuffed the phone in his pocket and went back inside the house. He heard water running earlier and figured Simone needed time alone to sulk. He grabbed his coat. A walk would clear his head. A walk? You need a drink, man.
* * *
Paul felt numb. Two and a half hours crawled by as they veered through stop-and-go traffic. The lump in his throat trapped his words inside his heart. He never in a million years imagined Grace could be so unforgiving. It wasn’t her nature. He prayed, given a few days to think things over, she would come to understand his position and forgive him.
He pulled into the driveway, relieved to escape the silence, yet apprehensive of what was to come. He hated her cold shoulder. His parents never treated one another with disdain. They argued but never let things go past a pout. His dad would take a walk around the block, come back with flowers and a sincere apology. His mom made his dad’s favorite dish or rubbed his feet. Forgiveness. “Now what?”
“If you’d be so kind, I’d like to get my car out of the garage. I’ll get my bags.”
“You’re really going to do this?”
“Yep.”
“I don’t want to let you go.”
“Should’ve thought of that before you lied to me.”
“Grace— Honey, I—“
“No! Don’t think you can ‘honey-baby’ your way out of this, and please don’t make things worse! A woman came to the door today. Your door. I was petrified! I swear she had a gun. I could be wrong. I was so distraught I can’t be sure! I don’t know which end is up anymore!” Paul reached for her hand. She pulled away. “I can’t do this. I don’t know who you are, what you’re involved in, or what danger you’ve put me in with your lies!”
“Grace, don’t be unreas—”
“No! I am not being unreasonable. I am not behaving like some oversensitive female. I have been lied to by the man I trusted most. I am angry. And I have no intention of letting go of that anger until I’m ready. So let me out. I have a room to find.”
“Chér, it’s not safe for you.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Grace popped her trunk and set her suitcase flat. Before closing the lid, she felt Sneaky’s fur brush her leg. Tears welled in her eyes. She swallowed hard. “Could you please take Sneaky until I get settled?”
“Yeah, sure.” Paul’s shoulders slumped. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and watched her pull away. When her taillights were no longer visible, he went inside the house.
CHAPTER 21
TIMING IS EVERYTHING
G race’s hands shook. Tears blinded her vision. She pulled over. The neon light beckoned. “What the hell.” She pulled into the parking lot. A quick glance in the mirror validated her convictions. “You look like shit.”
Warm, stale air hit her nostrils. She lowered her gaze and slid into an empty booth in the corner across from the bar. By the time she slipped out of her coat, a perky waitress had smacked a menu and a napkin under her nose.
“Whatcha gonna have?” she asked, popping her gum.
“A decanter of Merlot. Onion rings.”
The waitress scribbled Grace’s order on her pad and disappeared. She returned with a decanter of Merlot and a glass. Grace poured a generous amount and gulped it down. She wiped her mouth and refilled the glass. Once she emptied that portion, she emptied the decanter. The waitress called from behind the bar, “Ready for another?”
Grace held up her glass and nodded. “Yes.” She leaned back in the booth and let the buzz commence. She figured one more glass would tame the ache in her heart. She stared out into the night. Her future seemed as empty as the street below.
“Your rings should be up in a few,” the waitress announced, filling her glass to the brim. She set the half-empty decanter down. “Enjoy!”
Grace took a deep breath, and then a big swig. The sweetness of the wine mingled with her bitter disposition. How did things go so wrong? How did happiness always seem to elude her? First Jess, then Garret. Now Paul? Was she destined to be miserable, the rest of her life? Was that her fate? Suddenly, she felt someone near, and she turned, recognizing the Southern drawl.
“Oh my Lord! Miss Simms.”
Her stomach flipped. Darren Sheppard didn’t wait for an invitation. He slid into the booth across from her. “I am a true believer in fate, but this is uncanny. I’ve been calling you all evening, and h
ere you are! I had to pinch myself. Are you okay? You seem upset.”
“You can’t be here. It’s highly unprofessional. I could lose my license.”
“Now why would I say a word? I am a very trustworthy person. Just because I have issues, doesn’t mean I can’t keep a secret.”
“A secret? Huh! I think I’ve had enough secrets for one day. Hell, for a lifetime!”
“Okay, no secrets then. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Don’t you understand? We can’t be here together.”
“We’re not. You here first. I just happened to drop by. It’s not complicated. We’re not on a date.”
Just then, the waitress placed the platter of onion rings on the table. Darren’s eyes grew large. Grace swallowed fast before she spit her wine. She burst out laughing. The whole scene was surreal. “Want some?” she asked, watching him practically salivate. Jess loved onion rings. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Darren handed her a napkin.
“I’m a good listener,” he said, taking a bite and letting the heat escape from his mouth.
“You know, maybe you should find yourself another therapist. I’m feeling pretty fucked up right now.” She pushed the platter towards him. He pushed it back.
“Eat something. It will make you feel better.”
“Yeah, it’s all about the grease.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Tell me, Sheppard, ever been in love?”
“Just once.”
“And?”
“I’m waiting for the right moment.”
“For what?”
“For her to come to her senses, and realize I’m the one.”
Grace shuddered. Chills ran up her spine. She held herself tight. She gazed into her client’s eyes. Burning desire stared back. Trapped in his eyes, she lost control.
* * *
Spider clicked on the link to an article written more than eight years ago. He skimmed through it to learn Susan and Peter Fortier had been found murdered in an abandoned house in Gary, Indiana. Their throats had been slit. They had been disemboweled. They left behind a son, Paul Michael Fortier. Spider swiveled toward the interrogation room. Tony’s head practically touched his knees. Jesus. Watching a tough guy like Tony turn into pudding made him sick. He knew Tony wasn’t Kimmy’s killer, but it was police procedure to question everyone. Tony’s guilty conscience escalated from a monkey on his back to a two-ton gorilla. Spider felt sorry for the guy. Tony would never forgive himself.
“Get some coffee.” Spider squeezed the investigating detective’s shoulder. “Tony’s not going anywhere.” Spider straddled a chair. “Right, Tony? You know the ropes.”
Tony looked through Spider. “I shoulda took her home.”
“I know, Tony. That would’ve been the gentlemanly thing to do. Hey,” he said, patting Tony’s knee, “how were you to know?”
“She was so pretty. You know, Frank. I couldn’t let her know that. She would have walked all over me…tell Cindy. God, is everything’s gonna come out anyway?”
“Did you call Cindy?”
“She doesn’t really have to know, does she? Hell, I lost Kimmy. Do I have to lose Cindy, too?”
“What you do with your dick is none of my business, but I won’t lie for you, Tony. As far as I’m concerned, you were the last person to see Kimmy alive. How you explain your relationship with Kimmy to your wife is up to you.”
“Thanks, Frank. Do they have any leads?”
“I’m waiting for one of the guys on the investigation team to call. Folsom has a limited forensics team. They’re gonna have to send a lot of the evidence out. Did Jay finish his report?”
“He’s jerkin’ me around, the fucker. Thinks he’s Columbo.”
“Well, give him what he needs. I’ll see you in the morning.”
* * *
“Excuse me. I need to use the ladies’.” Grace slid off the edge of the seat and stood too quickly. She wobbled. Her client grabbed her arm.
“Need some help?” His dark eyes seemed amused, gleeful and penetrating.
“No, I’m fine, thank you.” She steadied herself and headed toward the back of the room.
Once inside the “Ladies’,” Grace examined herself in the mirror. “Gawd,” she moaned, splashing cold water on her face. Better, she convinced herself, blotting her forehead with a paper towel. I am in control. I am in control, she repeated over and over in her mind. By the time she finished her business and washed her hands, she felt the mantra was no longer necessary. She had a plan. She’d call the Realtor in the morning, get her house back and focus on her clients. Work is what kept her centered in the past. She cursed herself for letting yet another man rock her boat.
“Everything right as rain?” her client asked upon her return, his drawl lazy and confident.
Grace slid across the seat and planted her elbows on the table. “Perfect,” she quipped. “Better than perfect.” Her mouth stretched tight. She took a drink of Merlot.
“I love the crunch of panko crumbs,” he said, holding an onion ring between his thumb and forefinger. In the south, they use cracker crumbs. Not the same, if you ask me.” His eyes lingered on her lips.
“Ah, you’re a connoisseur?”
“Yes, ma’am! Three generations strong.”
Grace took another sip of wine and filled her glass. “Never realized there was a difference.” She paused. Her brow wrinkled, and her jaw dropped. “Wait a minute—”
Anxiety hit Jess like a thunderbolt. Did she recognize him? Her intense expression indicated a recollection of some sort. Outside, he remained aloof and cavalier. Inside, his heart stampeded in his chest. He arched one brow and tilted his head slightly to one side. “Ma’am?”
“I’ve had onion rings in Chicago. You’re right! Big difference!”
Jess played dumb. “See? What did I tell you?”
Laughter relaxed them both. Soon they were conversing like old friends. No one in the bar would perceive anything strange or suspicious when they left together, the woman completely sloshed. The man? Her designated driver.
* * *
Paul paced back and forth. Madness threatened to overtake his senses. He called Grace’s phone six times. No answer. Why didn’t he tell her up front about Jess? Why did he feel the need to keep things from her? He knew eventually she would find out the truth. Not this way. Never this way, man. Now what? He jumped into his truck and took off in search of his betrothed.
* * *
Grace’s hair brushed his shoulder as he lifted her from the car. Her scent filled his nostrils, and he wanted to take her right then and there. She moaned in his ear. “Where are we?” she slurred.
“Home, babe. We’re home.”
Jess carried her into the family room and laid her down on the sofa. She opened her eyes and looked around. “Home,” she said, smiling.
Just then, the light went on in the hallway. “Sheppard, is that you?” Simone called down the stairs.
“Yes, it’s me. I’ll be up shortly. Go back to slee—”
Too late. Simone stood in the doorway. “Late night snack?”
“This one’s not for sharing. Go back to bed.” He moved in front of Grace, blocking Simone’s view.
“Now you’re hurting my feelings.”
“Do you really think I give a fuck about your feelings, sweetheart?”
“A girl can dream can’t she?”
“Since when did you become sentimental?”
“Sentiment means nothing to me. I do, however, detest greed.”
“I understand, darling, truly I do. But this one is different. Be a love and leave us, will you?”
“Certainly. But I won’t forgive you if you don’t at least give me a peek.” Jess blocked her advance, but not before she caught a glimpse of the woman she had seen on the beach earlier that day.
His passion-filled eyes turned to tempered steel, “Don’t piss me off, Simone.”
“My, my. When did you become such a bore?”
�
��When did you become such a hemorrhoid?”
“Sticks and stones. Simone pivoted on the ball of her foot and headed toward the stairs. “Try to keep it down. I’m a very light sleeper.”
Simone felt as though her legs turned to stone. She mounted the stairs one by one, each step harder than the last. Rage simmered in her blood. Hatred swallowed her soul. She wanted to gauge his eyes from their sockets so he could no longer feast upon Grace’s beauty. She thought about slicing the lips off his face so he could not taste the sweetness of hers. Why did he have to bring her here? He held no regard for the pain he caused. He cares for no one but himself. How would he feel once she killed the bitch? Shattered? Homicidal? Relieved? Poof. His obsession gone. Her father’s words rung true, “Obsession makes you weak.”
* * *
Spider reached for the phone, catching the call on the second ring. “Spiderelli,” he announced.
“Spider, it’s Paul Fortier. I need your help.”
Paul shared the argument he and Grace had earlier, explained how he took her home. “Grace insisted on leaving. I figured if I gave her some time, she’d think things through and come home.”
“What changed your mind?”
“I’m standing in the parking lot of a bar on Second Street. Grace’s car is parked here. She’s not here. The waitress said she left with a dark-haired man.
“Jess?”
“Not the Jess we know. I showed her Bartell’s photo. She said it wasn’t him. The man she described matches the description of someone we were looking at in Buenos Aires.”
“Stay there, I’m on my way.”
“If he has her Spider, Lord knows—”
“Stop! We’ll do our best to find her. Send me what you got.
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