Chael grunts. She’s as stubborn as you.
I rock back on my heels. Time to take a different tack. I stand up and reach a hand down to her. She eyes it warily, but takes it and lets me pull her up.
“I’ll have to make arrangements for you to meet my friend in Beso de la Muerte before we do anything else,” I say.
I feel Chael stiffen. What are you doing?
I ignore him. “There are certain realities you should face if you’re serious about this. I wasn’t given that chance before I turned. Come to my home in one week and I’ll take you.”
Janet looks suspicious. “How do I know this isn’t a trick?”
“You don’t. Use the next seven days to get your affairs in order.”
“You sound like you’re not sure I’ll return.”
“Things change when you become vampire. You need to stay away from people who have known you for a while until you get the hunger in control.”
Janet nods slowly. “Okay. I’ll see you in one week.”
“I assume you know where I live. You seem to know everything else about me.”
She nods again. “Isthmus Court in Mission Beach. The ocean side.”
I want to roll my eyes in frustration but I remain stoic. “I’ll call you when I’ve made arrangements.”
She grabs my arm. “How can I reach you if I need to?”
I look down at her hand and up at her. She drops my arm. “I’ll call you,” I say again.
She opens her mouth to say something else but the look on my face must give her second thoughts. Her mouth snaps shut and she nods.
I gesture to Chael and we head for the door. Janet doesn’t follow us. When I glance back, she’s sitting on the couch, staring out at the garden.
I wonder what she’s thinking.
If she becomes a vampire, I’ll soon know.
As soon as we’re out the door, Chael jumps. “What the hell are you thinking?”
“Relax. I know what I’m doing. I have a plan.”
Abbas is waiting at the car, passenger door open. We climb into the back.
“Every time you tell me to relax, I get nervous,” Chael says when we’re once more on the road. “I get even more nervous when you say you have a plan. A plan you’re blocking me from reading. What is it, Anna?”
My head falls back against the cushioned leather seat. “You haven’t met Culebra, have you?”
Chael shakes his head.
“He’s an interesting character. Runs the bar in Beso de la Muerte. If anyone can show Janet the down side of becoming vampire, he can. I’ll ask him to make sure she sees only the low lifes who come to be donors. The druggies who’ll do anything for a few bucks. The bikers who insist sex be part of the package. She doesn’t strike me as being particularly worldly, in spite of her tough act.”
“There’s a big flaw in your plan,” Chael says. “What if she’s not going to get her fix at Beso de la Muerte? What if she wants to strike out on her own and find her own sources? Once she’s turned, we may never see her again.”
He’s right. Any destruction she leaves in her wake will be on me. “You got a better idea? I’m open to any suggestions.”
“I already told you my suggestion. Kill her.”
“Not an option.” I sigh. “I’ve never turned anyone. I’m not sure I know how to do it.”
“If it comes to that, I’ll tell you,” Chael says. “Let’s hope it doesn’t.”
It’s close to eight when I finally get back home. I know I have to call David, but first I put in a call to Frey. The news is no better this evening than it was earlier. John-John’s grandmother is still in critical condition. I speak to my stepson for a few minutes and can tell from his voice he’s trying to be brave. When Frey gets back on the phone, I want to cry.
“I should be there,” I say. “For John-John.”
“I know,” Frey says, his voice soft. “But there wouldn’t be anything you could do—”
“Except remind everyone that John-John’s mother is dead because of me.”
Frey lets a heartbeat go by before saying, “Not everyone feels that way. I don’t. John-John doesn’t.”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.”
The moment stretches until it’s time to say goodbye. I’ve never felt lonelier.
I sit on the edge of the bed and stare out at the ocean. It takes all my will to place the next call when I really want to crawl into bed and forget about today. Maybe dream of being with Frey.
David picks up right away.
“Do we have a job?”
“In a way.”
I hear him say something sotto voce to Gloria, who is no doubt leaning on his shoulder to catch every word. I picture her naked and panting.
“Tell your girlfriend to start without you,” I say snidely.
“Jesus. You two. Do you want to know what Duke said or don’t you?”
“I’m all ears.”
“He wants us to track someone down for him.”
“Nothing unusual. What’s the guy wanted for?”
“Nothing yet. Seems he absconded with half a million of Duke’s money and he wants it back. He hasn’t told the police. He wants this handled in-house.”
I don’t like the sound of that. We’d done one other “personal” job for Duke and the consequences still haunt me. “What happens when we find him?”
“We bring him back, deliver him and the money to Duke, and collect a nice fat fee.”
“Then what? What’s Duke going to do to him?”
“Didn’t ask. Don’t care.”
I draw in a quick, sharp breath. “What do you mean, you don't care? You forget what happened last time we did Duke a favor? I ended up killing someone. A dirt bag, maybe, but I killed him.” And was almost exposed as a vampire, though that’s something David doesn’t know. “I don’t want this guy ending up in a landfill.”
David clucks his tongue. “It’s different this time. I think the guy is a distant relative. I doubt he’d kill him.”
Right. The other guy had been Duke’s abusive son-in-law.
I’m quiet for a moment, and David says, “Are we in or are we out?”
“Sounds like you’ve made up your mind.”
“It’s a big payday. Low risk. Legit. Two, three days at the most.” He adds, “Anna, this is our business. We can’t ignore big money when it comes our way.”
I sigh. What else can I do? Sit around thinking about the absurd situation with Janet, about how I miss Frey and John-John? At least if I work this with David, I can control what happens when we catch the guy. If it turns ugly, I can get the money back to Duke and let the guy disappear.
“I’m in.”
“Good. We’ll get started tomorrow.”
“Good night, Anna,” Gloria interrupts, having taken the phone from David. “He and I are getting started right now.”
The phone clatters.
Before the call drops, I hear Gloria’s high-pitch squeal.
Chapter Seven
Day Four
I wonder if I’m ever going to accept Gloria as David’s—I have a hard time even saying the word—lover. What if he marries her?
My stomach turns at the thought.
I get ready for bed and take a glass of wine out to the deck. The ocean is calm under a starry sky. I wish my mind was as calm. My thoughts swirl like the wine in my glass. I sink into a deck chair.
First, Janet. I’ll have to go see Culebra as soon as I can. I imagine Janet will not be patient long. She’ll expect to hear from me sooner rather than later.
Then there’s Frey and John-John.
My fantasies about the summer Frey and I would be spending together quickly dissolve into the cold reality that they may not be back before John-John returns to school. Maybe thinking we can make a long distance marriage work is just wishful thinking. I know how important it is to Frey that John-John retain links to his heritage. Maybe it’s time for me to think seriously about mov
ing onto the reservation.
I take a swallow of wine.
What would I do there? How would I be received?
I drain my glass and push myself up. Tomorrow may be a better day. The prospect of what Duke wants us to do, though, casts doubt like a dark cloud casts shadow. Duke, like all bail bondsmen, is money oriented—it’s the nature of his business. What idiot would steal from one? Even a relative would realize he couldn’t get away with it.
There’s a car parked in David’s parking space when I pull up the next morning. Not his Hummer. A new Tesla Model S. My shoulders bunch. If Gloria is inside…
But she isn’t.
David is alone, at the computer, mug of coffee at his side.
Exhaling with relief, I ask, “New car?”
“Like it?”
“It’s about a third the size of the Hummer. What prompted the change?” I walk over to the credenza to pour a cup of coffee for myself.
David shrugs. “The Hummer was not only a gas hog, but left a huge carbon footprint.”
I do a double take. Carbon footprint? A phrase David would never use, much less care about, unless it had been fed to him. I could guess by whom.
Shaking my head, I take a seat across from him at the desk.
He glances up. “How are Frey and John-John doing?”
“There’s no change in John-John’s grandmother’s condition.”
“They won’t be coming home soon?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
He drops his eyes back to the computer screen. “I think I have a lead on Duke’s nephew. His ex-wife lives in Del Mar. It was a nasty divorce. If we tell her he may be in trouble, she might be willing to let us know where he is.”
“If she knows. If it’s that easy, why didn’t Duke contact her himself?”
“Duke wants to distance himself from this.” David presses a button and the printer buzzes to life. It spits out a piece of paper. He grabs it and stands. “Let’s take a ride up the coast. I’ll drive.”
I follow him out of the office. At the car, David pauses.
“What?” I ask, reaching for the passenger door handle. My fingers scrabble ineffectively against the side of the car. The door handle is there, but it’s flush against the door.
I look back at a grinning David and he’s just standing there, remote in hand. He holds it up, pushes a button. The handle rises from its perch against the side of the car.
“Very cute,” I grumble, slipping into a passenger seat. My foot bumps against a box. I heft it up and read what’s printed on the top.
He puts the car in drive without so much as a button to push or key to turn. It’s so quiet, it’s spooky. “Boy, when you go green, you don’t fool around.”
The car has more tricks than a circus magician. David touches a screen and a map pops up. He speaks an address and the GPS springs to life. We’re soon on 5, heading north.
I settle back in a seat that seems to melt around me. “How much did this, imposing example of modern technology set you back?”
David sniffs. “If you have to ask, you can’t afford it.”
Right.
My expression must trigger his defensive mechanisms because David shoots me a narrow-eyed look. “Might be about time for you to get rid of that gas-guzzling tank you drive.”
I sit up straighter in the seat. “My Jag is a classic.”
“Sure it is. And how many miles to a gallon of premium does it get?”
I can’t think of a comeback to that. I cross my arms over my chest. Time to change the subject. “Where does the ex live?” I ask.
David shakes his head to let me know he’s on to me but does point to the screen. The address is on El Camino Real.
“Contentious divorce or not,” I comment, “she did pretty well for herself if she lives in that neighborhood.”
David raises an eyebrow. “I did a little digging. Kitty DelMonico is fifty. She had money of her own before she married Duke’s nephew, Howard. He managed to go through most of it before she got wise and cut him off. The divorce came not long after. He tried to get his half of what was left, which wasn’t much by that time, but there was a pre-nup. He left a string of women and gambling debts, which probably explains why he embezzled from Duke. His uncle gave him a job when he was at his lowest, but family loyalty couldn’t compete with the temptation of a cash business.” David shakes his head. “It was a dumb move.”
His words echo my thoughts from last night.
We hit traffic just south of town. It’s Del Mar Fair time. The queue made a twenty minute drive, drag to forty. Finally, we’re past the fair ground’s turn-off and continuing into town.
The exit to El Camino Real sends us up above the beach and the city and into the gentle tree-lined hills surrounding it. Kitty DelMonico’s house turns out to be one of the older homes in this rural section of Del Mar. It’s modest compared to other multi-story luxury estates surrounding it, a sprawling one-story shake-shingle house with a tile roof fronted by a large horse corral. We spy a woman in the corral brushing a large bay mare tethered to the fence.
“Does she know we’re coming?” I ask David as we pull into the driveway.
“No. Thought it best to catch her off guard.”
We haven’t attracted her attention, the result of the electric car’s ability to run silently and the headphones she’s wearing as she works. We approach the corral and when she catches David out of the corner of her eye, she jumps.
David holds up a hand as she sweeps the headphones off her head. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
I’ve purposely hung back. Don’t want to rile the horse. I’m hoping she’ll step out of the corral and come to us.
She’s eyeing David. At first I think it’s because most women look at him like that—a big guy, ruggedly handsome. But there’s something more to the gleam in her eyes. She tilts her head “You’re David Ryan. The football player.”
A flush of pleasant surprise creeps up his face and widens David’s smile. It may not happen as often anymore, but he still enjoys when someone recognizes him from his glory days.
Kitty DelMonico ducks between the corral fence rails and holds out her hand. “I’m so happy to meet you.”
She’s an attractive fifty, trim in jeans and a loose-fitting blue cotton shirt, honey blonde hair pulled into a pony tail. David takes her hand. “You have a good memory. It’s been ten years since I played.”
I clear my throat and they both turn to me.
David drops her hand and gestures back to me. “This is Anna Strong. My business partner.”
She turns that warm smile on me, “Business partner, huh? What kind of business?”
I let David field the question since Kitty has already turned her attention back to him. She has the natural, no-make-up-needed kind of complexion that makes women envious. Her eyes are wide and her mouth generous. I imagine in her twenties and thirties she was a knock out because, if I didn’t know her age, I’d never guess fifty. I’d also be willing to bet the blonde hair is natural since it’s laced with strands of silver that enhance its shine.
David takes a piece of paper out of his pocket. “We’re looking for your ex-husband, Mrs. DelMonico.”
A bit of warmth drops from her smile. “Why?”
He hands her the paper. “He was a witness to an accident and this insurance company hired us to find him.”
A very good ruse and one we use often. I imagine he handed her a letter of introduction typed on the letterhead of an insurance company with a name ambiguous enough to sound legitimate.
“A witness?” She scans the paper before handing it back to David. “I haven’t heard from him for over a year. Something I can’t say I’m sorry about.” She turns back toward the fence and picks up a walking stick I hadn’t noticed. “Come to the house with me.”
David refolds the letter and slips it into his pocket. “You sounded surprised we would be looking for him. Any reason for that?”
When she
starts out, it’s obvious in her shambling gait that she’s not as physically fit as her appearance first suggests. As we follow her, she speaks to us over her shoulder.
“Howard is bad luck,” she says. “He’s more likely to be the cause of an accident than a witness to one.”
David’s eyebrows rise as we exchange a glance.
Kitty’s house is cool and dark. She crosses a foyer into a room outfitted as a combination office/parlor—large desk in the center, bookcases along the walls, a group of worn, leather furniture clustered in front of a fireplace. She goes to the desk and sinks into a chair, opening one of the side drawers.
After a moment of rummaging, she holds out an envelope. “This may be of some help.”
David takes it. He holds it out to me and I can see a name and address scrawled on the front. “Is this a relative?”
“Better,” Kitty says, with a smile. “Howard’s bookie.”
Chapter Eight
Back in the car, I ask David before he can ask it of me. “What do you think she meant about Howard more likely being the cause of an accident?”
We’re back on 5, heading north again. The address on the envelope is in Los Angeles. David’s fed it into the Tesla’s GPS and we’re humming along—literally.
“Do you think it has anything to do with her limp?” I ask.
David is quiet a moment, contemplating an answer, I expect.
“I didn’t find anything in my research on her,” he says at last, “to explain her infirmity. Maybe I should have dug a little deeper.” He shoots me a sideways glance. “So what were you and Chael doing in LA yesterday? You never mentioned.”
“Visiting a friend,” I answer.
Seems harmless enough until David follows up with, “What friend? Who do you two know in Los Angeles?”
I can’t come up with an answer. David has known me so long, it won’t do to make up a name. I go for the bigger lie. “If you have to know, we went shopping.”
“You and Chael went shopping.” He snorts and shakes his head. “You went shopping. In LA. Chael, maybe. But you? Except for the day you got married, I’ve never seen you in anything but jeans.” He narrows his eyes. “If you don’t want to tell me, just say so. You don’t have to make up a ridiculous story.”
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