‘We’ve had our differences,’ Ryder said, more than a hint of disgust in his voice, ‘but you’ve screwed up big time.’
He shook his head, then pushed his face right into Evan’s, the smell of his breakfast still on his breath.
‘Even for a jerk like you.’
Evan let him talk. Ryder still hadn’t said anything he could disagree with. He saw from his face, from the bright, mean glint in his eyes, that lunch was forgotten for the moment, as he got into his swing now, warming to the task.
‘You best run along, Detective. They might run out of donuts.’
For a long moment he thought Ryder might punch him. He laughed instead.
‘You just can’t help yourself can you. I’ve always known you were an asshole’—he jabbed Evan on the chest with a meaty finger—‘but you don’t know a good thing when you see it, do you?’
Evan knocked the finger away, felt like putting his own in Ryder’s eye. There’s only so many home truths you can swallow at once, especially from a sanctimonious prick like Ryder.
‘I don’t actually see what it’s got to do with you.’
Weak, Buckley, very weak.
A genuine smile filled Ryder’s face, a smile of smug satisfaction.
‘Exactly. You don’t see. Period.’
Evan thought for a second he was going to leave it at that. No chance. Ryder was enjoying himself too much.
‘You want to know what it’s got to do with me—’
‘No.’
‘—what it’s got to do with me is I care about Kate.’ He jabbed his own chest with his finger. ‘Whereas, you—’
‘Are we done here?’
Ryder shook his head, his mouth twisted.
‘Not by a long stretch. You’—he raised his hand to poke Evan on the chest again but thought better of it—‘you act like you’re Christ Descended—’
The door behind them opened. They both turned to look. Kate Guillory was standing there watching them, her face deadpan. Ryder leaned in close, dropped his voice.
‘If you hurt her—’
‘Uh-oh. Movie dialog alert.’
Ryder’s mouth hung open, words failing him. He turned on his heel and stomped off with the swamp-wading gait of a drunk.
Guillory trotted down the steps, past Evan with barely a look, and called after Ryder to wait.
‘Kate,’ Evan said at the same moment she called Ryder.
Ryder stopped and waited for her to catch him up. He stayed where he was, dropped his voice again, not so low that Evan couldn’t hear him.
Talk to the asshole.
They stared at each other a long moment, then turned away from each other. Evan walked towards her.
‘Can I give you a ride anywhere?’ He waved his arm towards the Corvette. ‘I didn’t get to take you ... shit.’
Guillory spun around and they both watched a meter maid tuck a ticket under his wiper. Evan risked a fast glance at her, saw a small curl at the edge of her lips.
‘She’s just doing it because it’s a nice car.’
Guillory didn’t say anything. The curl was still there.
‘I don’t suppose you can do anything about that?’
That got a reaction. She twitched, made a face like she’d sat on a hot coal. She got it under control, looked at him for the first time. He swallowed, couldn’t help himself.
‘Sure I can,’ she said, her voice like an icy wind howling down the street. ‘But why would I?’
She was lying. She couldn’t do anything about it once it was issued. Still, he’d gotten her attention.
‘At least you’re talking to me now.’
She snorted. It wasn’t the time to point out how often she did it and how it didn’t do her any favors.
‘I’m sorry.’
He thought he’d gone a bit too far. He watched her struggle to form words.
‘You don’t know what the word means.’
He shrugged.
‘I know, but I used it correctly, didn’t I?’
Her jaw looked as if she might crack a tooth if she didn’t unclench it soon, let the smile come.
‘I was going to offer to buy you lunch—’
‘What, because dinner turned out so well, you thought hey, let’s do that again.’
‘But seeing as I just got a ticket ...’
He stood still to take his punishment, didn’t lean out of the way of her flying palm. He welcomed the familiar feel of it smacking solidly into the back of his head, letting him know he was forgiven. There was no flying palm, just a sorry sad head shake. Like a disappointed parent looking at a poor report card. Or a dog owner whose new mutt won’t sit or beg and he’s thinking of asking the pet store for a refund.
‘It would depend on whether you’ve got any more, how shall I put it ... revelations for me.’
He wasn’t sure which way to take that. Did she want to hear more, or not? Times like this he felt he’d never understand women.
He shook his head.
‘No, that’s all.’
She raised an eyebrow, cocked her head.
‘No, really.’
A girl texting and walking almost ran into them as they stood in the middle of the sidewalk absorbed in a game of eye-contact chicken. She stepped to the side without glancing up.
He started towards the Corvette. A second later Guillory fell into step beside him. He wanted to ask her, why such a big deal?
‘You want to know why I didn’t tell you?’
‘Go on, surprise me.’
‘Because I didn’t want to have to listen to another lecture on how Hendricks is jerking me around.’
She stopped dead.
It was the word lecture. He’d known as it slipped out it wasn’t going to go down well. It was almost as bad as mentioning the time of the month during an argument. He hadn’t made that mistake for a long time.
‘And I didn’t want you stopping me from going out there.’
Guillory laughed.
‘That hasn’t worked out so well for you.’
His face creased into a frown.
‘Ryder’s already told anybody who’ll listen, if they see another intruder at the Hendricks place, shoot them. Arrest them at the very least.’
She started walking again. They got to the car, didn’t get in, leaned against the fender instead. Evan pulled the ticket out from under the wiper blade and stuffed it in his pocket. Guillory’s face snapped back to deadpan when he looked at her again, but he’d seen the smile.
‘What’s he so worked up about anyway?’
She crossed her arms and leaned back to inspect him.
‘Didn’t he say when you were having your chat?’
‘Uh-uh. He was too busy saying asshole.’
She nodded enthusiastically.
‘He’s been using that word a lot. I’m thinking of adopting it. It’s got a certain ring to it.’
Evan looked off down the street and his heart sank. Talk of the devil. Ryder was on his way back, a sandwich in his hand. Guillory felt the change in him and looked as well.
‘Why don’t you ask him?’
They both watched him approach. He didn’t slow, just nodded to Guillory. He mumbled a few words for Evan’s benefit.
‘Jesus, how long’s it take to say sorry, asshole?’
He didn’t wait for an answer.
‘See what I mean,’ Evan said when he was out of earshot. ‘Anyone would think it was him—’
‘You deceived? Lied to?’
There wasn’t anything he could say, so he didn’t bother trying.
‘Maybe it’s because he knows something you don’t,’ Guillory said.
There was something in her tone of voice that made him sit up.
‘About what?’
‘Me.’
She was right, more right than she knew. He didn’t really know a thing about her. She was the most tight-lipped person he’d ever known when it came to sharing personal information. She knew everything about h
im, knew about things before he even thought of doing them.
‘You’re not the only one with ...’
He waited, didn’t want to destroy the moment. It seemed that was as much as he was going to get.
‘With what?’
She pushed herself off the fender.
‘Doesn’t matter.’
He wasn’t going to let her get off that easily, seeing as they were having this discussion as a result of him not telling her something.
‘What is this? I didn’t tell you something, so now you’re not going to tell me something?’
She gave him a tight little smile.
‘No, we’re talking about me here, not you.’
‘Or not talking about you.’
‘Fuck me, Buckley, you’re impossible.’
She said it on a long weary exhale, her words barely above a whisper. He was aware of his next words as they came out of his mouth but it was as if somebody else was directing them. He sure as hell didn’t have any control over them.
‘I didn’t catch the part before you’re impossible.’
Her forehead creased into a frown, her mind subconsciously repeating the words.
Fuck me, Buckley.
‘What?’
He shrugged, grinned stupidly at her. She suddenly grinned back. It was like a weight was lifted. He hadn’t thought she’d ever smile again.
‘It’s an expression, not an invitation.’
Where might things have led if they’d had this conversation in the restaurant with a bottle of wine thrown into the mix? A subtle change in her eyes—a softening would be taking it too far—told him the same thought had just gone through her mind.
‘Besides, what about your little friend Gina? I don’t want to step on any toes. Her friend ... what’s her name?’
‘Destiny.’
‘Destiny might shoot me.’
This wasn’t the direction he wanted the conversation to go. It struck him he shouldn’t be surprised he knew nothing about her, she always turned the conversation back onto him. He could write a book, call it living life on the back foot. He cleared his throat.
‘You were about to tell me something—’
‘No, I wasn’t.’
The tone didn’t leave much room for argument
‘I thought in this new dawn of entente cordiale—’
She sniggered at that.
‘Entente cordiale? You swallow the dictionary?’
‘So, what was it?’
She tried the car door handle.
‘It’s locked,’ he said.
‘So unlock it.’
He did as he was told and they got in.
‘What you’re missing here’—he got the impression a mini-lecture was on its way and kept the thought to himself—‘is there’s a world of difference between not telling somebody anything at all, and telling them something but leaving all the important parts out.’
‘I’ll settle for that.’
She drew in a deep breath, held it, let it out slowly. He felt more relaxed just watching her. She closed her eyes.
‘You really want to know?’
How many damn times do I have to ask?
He started the car, nodded.
‘I’ll ask Ryder if you don’t tell me.’
She opened her mouth, then clamped it shut. She’d been about to use the exact same expression as before.
‘You’re impossible,’ she said instead, missing the first part off. ‘Did I mention that?’
‘Uh-huh. That, and something about an invitation ...’
Finally, he got the smack around the back of his head. He felt like giving a quick fist pump.
‘Idiot.’
Yes. His absolution was complete.
‘C’mon then, you can buy me lunch. If you behave, I’ll give you a few carefully filtered facts while we eat.’
Chapter 29
‘THERE WAS A GUY, worked for the DEA.’
She was only a few words into her story and already her eyes had lost their focus. Evan leaned back in his seat and finished his coffee. Their plates were pushed off to the side. She’d refused to say anything until they’d eaten. So he didn’t get indigestion he supposed.
‘He worked undercover, trying to get inside one of the smaller cartels. He was making a lot of progress, but ...’
She looked at him, raised an eyebrow. This was where he was supposed to see parallels with himself. He nodded as if he might get it after a few more repetitions.
‘He took stupid risks. The people who ran this particular outfit liked to send a very specific message. I reckon they’d been watching too many movies.’
She looked around the diner. Evan looked as well, no idea what she was looking for. Then she got up and fetched a newspaper somebody had left behind on another table. On the front page there was a close-up photograph of the President, his mouth open as he addressed a rally. She folded the paper so that the photo was face up, laid it on the table between them.
‘Got a pen?’
‘The crossword’s on the back page isn’t it?’
She gave him a long-suffering look as he dug around in his pocket, found a plastic ballpoint. The end was chewed. She looked at it like she didn’t want to touch it, took it anyway.
‘This gang would take a photograph of whoever it was they were interested in. Getting out of their car or sitting in a restaurant, whatever, just so the guy would know they were watching him. Then they’d do this.’
She pulled the newspaper towards her and drew an ‘X’ on both the President’s eyes.
‘Then they’d mail the photo to the person.’
‘That sort of thing would make you choke on your cheerios.’
She smiled.
‘I can think of better ways to start your day.’
He saw where this was going. The guy she was talking about received a photo of himself with his eyes scored out. She’d been there the morning it arrived, hence the reference to better ways to start your day. It must have been her partner or husband.
‘The guy you’re talking about got a photo in the mail.’
She nodded.
‘I can see why you said there are better ways to start your day.’
She shook her head and Evan saw where this was really going, saw the link to their own situation. She didn’t say anything, let him figure it out for himself, giving him that enigmatic smile the whole time. Enjoying watching him come to appreciate the full implications of his actions.
‘You weren’t there.’
‘No. Keep going.’
‘And he didn’t tell you about it?’
‘No. What else?’
He bit down on his tongue as his face suddenly tried to break into a nervous grin.
‘He didn’t tell anybody about it.’
‘Exactly. You might even say he deliberately hid it from everyone.’
Her eyes drilled into him making him squirm. It was as if his skin was two sizes too small. He held up his hands, palms towards her.
‘I know. Like me.’
‘Except this is different.’
It didn’t take a genius to know different only came in one flavor—worse.
‘You see, Evan, you’ve still got a shot at a happy ending.’
‘Unlike the other guy. What did he do?’
‘I told you. He took stupid risks. He ignored it, thought he could bullshit his way out of any situation.’
‘He had a good line in bullshit?’
She couldn’t stop the little cough of a laugh escaping. There wasn’t a lot of warmth in it.
‘Oh yes.’ She lifted her hand, rocked it side to side. ‘Maybe not so good as yours, but the same stupid I’m invincible thinking behind it.’
‘It didn’t work.’
Suddenly there was no more humor, her eyes losing focus again.
‘No. They killed him. Eventually. They—’
He put his hand over hers, felt her move to pull it away, then change her mind.
&
nbsp; ‘You don’t need to go into details.’
‘Yes, I do. Because I don’t think the message will get into your thick skull, not until I draw you a picture. Maybe we’ll go back to the station and I’ll show you the crime scene photos.’
She stared at his hand covering hers. When she spoke again, it was as if she’d swallowed her tongue several times.
‘That’s not all. Because this isn’t about you, it’s about me. I can see you thinking why is she getting so bent out of shape because I didn’t tell her?’
He shrugged.
‘It crossed my mind.’
‘It’s like this. The guy—’
‘What was his name?’
‘Everybody called him Teardrop.’
‘Okay.’
It wasn’t the time to ask why. As he was finding out today, she’d let him know if she wanted to and not before.
‘He didn’t tell me because he knew damn well’—the misty-eyed melancholy was suddenly a thing of the past, replaced by barely-suppressed anger—‘he knew damn well if he told me, I’d—’
‘Give him a lecture?’
She shook her head in admiration, her eyes shining. It took everything he had to keep his hand where it was on top of hers, stop himself from lifting it and touching her cheek.
‘Sometimes you really surprise me. Here I am thinking you’re an idiot—’
‘I could tell you didn’t like my choice of words.’
‘He used to say it all the time, accuse me of lecturing him. He knew if he told me about the photo he’d received, I’d have talked sense into him, talked to his boss at the DEA, whatever. I’d have done something, whatever it took.’
‘And he’d still be here.’
She nodded, her eyes down. He didn’t know if it was to stop him seeing the moistness in them, gave her a minute.
‘What I don’t understand ...’
He waited for her to look at him, saw he’d been right, her eyes still faintly red-rimmed.
‘Is why you’re so bothered about it this time.’
She threw her head back at that, stared at the ceiling.
‘What are you, fishing for a compliment? This isn’t about you. It’s about me and what happens when some idiot withholds information from me because they think they know better. Because they don’t!’
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