“Not from where I’m sitting. The first guy—Noah, right? It wasn’t your fault or his. You didn’t cause what happened to him; he couldn’t handle what happened to him. I’m giving him a pass on that, since he was young and it seems like it was all too much at the time. The second son of a bitch? A lot of women get fooled by men who’ll hit women. A lot of men manage to hide that long enough to cement a bond. And you walked away, you took action. You did it all right. Not on you. The last guy? A lot of people end up with people who turn out to be cheaters and liars. And again, you walked.”
“It’s a crappy track record, Dillon.”
“Two out of three turned out to be fucking bastards, and you walked away. You said you ran into the first one and resolved things. Is he a fucking bastard?”
“No, the opposite.”
“Is there more of this?”
“Yes.”
“I can get it,” he said when she started to get up.
“Presentation.” She rose, went to plate him a second helping.
“Do you want my track record?”
She looked over at him as she arranged the pasta. He sat so relaxed—and confident, she realized—at her pretty table.
“It’s not required, but of course I do.”
“Not going into details because there’ve been more than three women I’ve slept with.”
She tried a Lily Morrow arch of eyebrows. “How many more?”
“What are numbers anyway? I’ve dumped, been dumped. There was one I came close with, but I never tripped over the line into really loving her. They mattered, every one of them. Maybe I screwed up, maybe she screwed up. Mostly, it just didn’t stick, and we parted ways. I never cheated, because that’s weak. If you want somebody else, you say so, you don’t cheat. I’ve never hit a woman, and I hope to Christ I’ve never mistreated one, because there are other ways to hurt somebody than with your fist.”
“Yes, there are.”
“I’ll make mistakes with you. Bound to. You’ll make mistakes with me.”
“Bound to,” she agreed, and brought over his second helping.
“But I don’t hurt people, not deliberately. Not true,” he said as he rolled another forkful. “I’ve punched a few guys along the way, and that was deliberate. But things happen.”
She remembered the way he’d rushed through her door when he’d heard her scream. Yes, she imagined he’d punched a few guys along the way.
“I suppose they do.”
“Anyway, I’ll make you that promise because you need it. Whatever happens between us, you’re part of our family. That’s not going to change. And if you ever manage to shake me off, especially now that I’ve eaten this, I’m still coming to hang with Hugh and flirt with Consuela and Lily.”
“You smooth me out, Dillon.”
“That’s fine. At the dinner table.”
Laughing, she sat back with her wine. “I’ll give you a chance to stir me back up, but I think two helpings of pasta equals a walk on the beach.”
“It’s damn good pasta. When we get married I’m going to expect it once a week.”
“So noted. It’s cooled off a bit. I’m going to get a sweater for that walk.” She rose. “After the walk we can have dessert in bed.”
“That schedule works fine for me.”
“Be right back.”
When she went upstairs, he rose to clear as his ladies would have expected.
And he thought of Cate and the three men who’d had the chance to love and treasure her. The three men who’d blown that chance.
He wouldn’t blow that chance. He’d give her a little time to understand he wouldn’t.
If someone out there killed to cause her grief and pain and trouble, if someone threatened her, well, he’d find a way to take care of that. To take care of her.
He knew no other way to be.
The first thing Michaela noticed when they brought Sparks into the interrogation room was he’d kept his looks.
An older version, yes, but Sparks retained that movie star aura, the middle-aged leading man type. Character lines fanned from his eyes, gray threaded through his hair, but he’d found a way to maintain both his face and his gym-rat build.
No shackles, she noted, as he wasn’t considered dangerous.
The hell he wasn’t, she thought. The cop in her smelled dangerous the instant he came into the room.
He sat down across from her, acknowledged Red with a nod, then looked straight into her eyes.
“I didn’t expect to see either of you again.”
“Our time’s limited, so we’ll get right to it. What do Frank Denby and Charles Scarpetti have in common?”
His brows drew together, a thoughtful yet puzzled look. “Obviously I know Denby, but the other doesn’t ring right off. Denby was a stupid mistake inside a colossal one for me, but—”
He broke off, held up a finger. “I got it. That’s the high-priced, fancy lawyer Charlotte hired to get her off. Didn’t work out like she wanted, but she got off pretty light for somebody who arranged her own kid’s snatch.”
“They’re both dead.”
“I heard about Denby. The guy always was an asshole, and from what I heard didn’t make any friends inside. Ended up shanked.”
“Did you have contact with Denby inside?” As Red spoke, Sparks shifted his attention. “Talk about old times?”
“Hell no. You know how big this place is. We weren’t in the same building.”
“I know how big this place is, and I know there are ways.”
“Why would I want to talk to that asshole? At first I was just pissed, so yeah, if it had been easy, I might’ve had some words for him. Look, I did what I did, I’m not excusing it, but like I said, stupid mistake. Denby’s a bigmouthed junkie. Hang with somebody like that in here, you get your ass kicked, or worse. You’ve got to get through it, and you need to be alive to get out when your time’s done. What happened to the lawyer?”
“Murdered.”
“I don’t get it. Denby gets shanked inside, some fancy lawyer gets killed outside. What’s it have to do with me?”
“They were both connected to Caitlyn Sullivan’s kidnapping. As is Sheriff Buckman.” Michaela took a photo out of her folder, laid it on the table. “Recognize him?”
Sparks gave the photo a study, what appeared to be a serious one. “I don’t think so. Why?”
“He’s dead, too.” Red leaned over, watching Sparks’s face as he jabbed a finger on the photo. “So’s his friend after they tried to run me off the road, after they shot up my truck.”
“Well, holy shit. But again, what does it have to do with me? If you’re thinking this all goes back to the kidnapping, that just doesn’t make sense. That’s a long time ago.”
“Ever hear how revenge is a dish best served cold?” Michaela wondered.
He flashed a smile. “I like a hot meal myself.” Let it fade, widened his eyes. “Jesus, you think Charlotte’s doing this, like hiring people to kill? You think she’ll go for me?”
Michaela didn’t hide the smirk as she sat back. “Has anyone threatened you?”
“Not recently. Look, I keep my head down. I’m no Frank Denby. I work in the library, do the job, stay out of the heat. I do some coaching in the gym. You keep it cool, don’t cause trouble, stay out of it, and you get through. I’m going to say Charlotte had a cold streak, cold as they come, but she’s been making movies again, right? And she married that rich guy. The burger guy.”
“You keep informed,” Red commented.
“We get TV time in here. I don’t know why she’d want to go after any of us over something that was her own fucking idea, whatever the hell she said to get a light touch.”
“You didn’t get such a light touch, did you?”
He looked back at Red. “No, I did not. I fell for the bitch, okay? Mistake on top of mistake. I got caught up, thinking of taking off with her and a pot full of money. I’m paying for it. The last thing I want is to go back there.�
�
“Denby screwed things up. Scarpetti helped get Charlotte off with a handful of years. Sheriff Buckman made sure you’re sitting just where you’re sitting.”
Sparks leaned back as if the air had gone out of him. “You think I’m involved in this? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I’m sitting where I’m sitting inside a maximum-security prison, for Christ’s sake.”
“So was Denby.”
“That’s right. That’s right.” A little outrage now as Sparks jerked forward. “And you think they didn’t have a chat with me on that? Didn’t find out where I was when it went down? I don’t kill people, even assholes. I don’t know this fucker.” With a flick, Sparks tossed the photo across the table. “The lawyer didn’t have dick to do with me. You had me cold because I was an idiot over a woman.”
“The lawyer helped Charlotte put together statements that shoved you to the head of the train,” Red pointed out.
“Yeah, that’s right. Are you going to tell me I wouldn’t have done twenty otherwise? That’s bullshit. She got off light, but I’d have done the same time either way. What do I care?”
As if frustrated, Sparks threw his hands in the air, then dragged them through his hair. “Listen, for fuck’s sake, I’ve got under a year to go till I’m up for parole. I’ve got a lawyer working on getting me that parole. I could be out in a year. Out of here. Nothing’s worth more to me than that. No way I’d do anything to screw that up. And how the hell would I? What am I, Harry fucking Potter?”
“It doesn’t take magic to get one inmate to shank another. A favor for a favor. You’ve made a lot of connections inside, Sparks.”
“That’s right. Connections help keep you out of the infirmary, out of solitary, out of the goddamn morgue. I order books. I help some of the cons who can barely write their name write letters to family on the outside. I help train in the gym. Denby’s my past, and in here you’d better stay in the present.
“You think about this.” He jabbed a finger that shook just a little at both of them. “If you’ve got anything on all this, I’m in the fucking barrel. I’ve got to watch my back until I get out. You do your time without moaning about it, and it’s still not enough. It’s never enough.”
He looked back at the guard on the door. “I want to go back. I’m done here. I want to go back.”
Michaela slid the photo neatly into the folder as the guard led Sparks out. “He’s good.”
“He is.”
“It’s hard to argue with anything he said.”
“It made sense, right down the line.” Red rose, rubbed lightly at his wounded arm. “And he’s a sonofabitching liar.”
“Oh yeah. He is.”
PART IV
LOVE, DARK AND BRIGHT
Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.
—WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
Love is blind.
—GEOFFREY CHAUCER
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
April slid into May, and the world filled with poppies. They waved orange and fire red in warm breezes, blanketing hills, smothering fields in color. Bluebonnets sprang up, adding some sassy charm, and lilacs sweetened the air everywhere.
Mornings brought fog sliding, smoking, sometimes so thick it hung a curtain over the world until the sun cracked through, burned it away, and turned that world to sparkling.
Cate threw open all her windows, potted herbs—under Julia’s supervision—for her windowsill, set up a table out on her patio for breaks under the afternoon sun.
She watched the gardens surrounding her bloom and thrive, the crops at the ranch grow. The woods where she’d once run toward the light turned lush and green.
Of course the tourists came, and traffic on Highway 1 stalled like a clogged drain. But beauty had its price.
In the peaceful, blooming spring, she began to lean away from Michaela’s theory. Coincidences happened, and the connection was vague and old in any case. The second man in the stolen car turned out to be a cousin of the first. And neither had any connection to anyone else.
She had home. She had work. She had a man who made her happy. Why look for shadows when she could stand in the light?
With another audiobook on her slate, she spent her morning in the booth, broke at noon.
Time to take a walk, clear the head, give the throat a rest. She decided to walk up to the main house, sit in the peace of the walled garden with its climbing roses and impossibly blue clematis, all its pretty flowers and benches.
She could mooch some of Consuela’s excellent lemonade.
An hour break, she decided as she left the house. Another two hours in the booth. Three if she felt she had it in her. Plenty of time to fix herself up a bit before she drove to the ranch.
Dinner with Dillon, his ladies, and Red had become a weekly ritual, and a treat. And she’d stay at Dillon’s for the night. If she managed to get there a little early, she might catch him working with the horses.
God, she loved watching him with the horses.
She topped the rise, stopped, stared as Consuela rushed out of the house toward the woman holding a baby on her hip beside a Lexus SUV.
“Darlie!”
She went on the run, barely beating Consuela to wrap her friend and the little boy in a hug. “Oh, the best surprise. The best surprise ever. Let me see him. Oh, hello, handsome!”
He tipped his head to his mother’s shoulder, grinned at her. “Dog,” he said, clutching a stuffed dog. “Mine!”
“And nearly as handsome as you. He got so big.”
“He’s walking now. R-running.”
Cate heard the tremble in Darlie’s voice, looked over, saw the tears welling in her eyes.
“I didn’t know where else to go.”
She didn’t ask questions, not now. “You came to the right place.”
“Come to me, my baby, come to Consuela. Can he have a c-o-o-k-i-e?”
“Of course. He deserves one.”
“Would you like a cookie, mi pequeño hombre? Come with Consuela.”
“Kee!” Luke threw his arms out to her.
“He probably needs a change. Let me—”
“No, no, Mama, give to me the bag and the baby. Consuela will take care of everything. That’s right. Let’s change your diaper and have cookies. Everything will be fine, you will see. Everything will be fine now.”
“He’s so friendly,” Darlie said as the boy, chattering happily, let Consuela carry him into the house. “He’s never met a stranger. Oh, Cate, everything is awful.”
Those welling tears spilled; Cate wrapped around Darlie again. “Then we’ll fix it. We’ll fix everything. Did you drive from L.A.?”
Darlie nodded, swiped at tears sliding under her dark glasses. “I started last night. Luke slept through a lot of it. I just . . .”
“We’re going to go sit down, have some lemonade. You’ll tell me.”
“Can we stay for a few days? I should’ve called first,” she continued as Cate led her around to the kitchen patio. “I was so hell-bent on getting here, just getting here.”
“You can stay as long as you want, as long as you need.”
“It’s beautiful here. I know you told me, but it’s more than I imagined. And it’s so away, and so secluded. I really need away and secluded. Oh, it’s like a bridge.”
Cate looked up. “It’s a clever design, all the layers of it, the connections. Kind of like a village inside one house. Sit, breathe. I’ll be right back.”
Leaving Darlie at one of the tables under the pergola of rioting wisteria, she hurried into the kitchen.
Thought, Perfect, as she found a pitcher of lemonade. She heard Consuela making the baby laugh in her quarters. Yes, Consuela would take care.
And so would she.
She grabbed a tray, the pitcher, glasses, thought of tissues. Carried it all out.
“I bet you haven’t eaten.”
“I couldn’t right now, but thanks.”
“We’ll get something later. You don�
�t have to worry about the baby. Consuela’s got him.” She poured, sat. “Tell me.”
“Dawson’s having an affair with the nanny—and how clichéd is that?” In quick jerks she pulled out a tissue. “But he’s not just having an affair with her, she’s pregnant, and he claims he loves her.”
“Sukin syn.” The Russian for whoreson suited Dawson best. “I should’ve gotten a bottle of wine.”
With a watery laugh, Darlie snatched up more tissues. “Later, for sure. I found out yesterday. He confessed all, because rumors are grinding, and it’s going to hit. He hopes I understand. So sorry, but the heart wants what the heart wants.”
More tissues, snatched, swiped, wadded.
“The son of a bitch.”
“I’m so sorry, Darlie.”
“He’s been sleeping with her in our home, Cate, with our son asleep in his crib. While I’m on set. Sneaking off with her on her day off. Luke’s barely a year old, and he’s got another woman pregnant. He wants to marry her.”
“Does it help or hurt if I say I think they deserve each other?”
“Helps, because I think the same. How could I have had no clue, Cate? How could I have not seen what was happening right under my nose? How did I let my life become a frigging Lifetime Movie?”
“Don’t you blame yourself, not for one minute. You trusted him, trusted them both—why wouldn’t you?—and they used that. Love, my ass, Darlie. I don’t care if they’re Tristan and Isolde—and I wouldn’t mind them meeting the same fate—they’re liars and cheats. No excuses.”
“Small wonder I came to you.” Swiping her face with one hand, she gripped Cate’s with the other. “Of all the places I could go, all the people I could turn to, you were the first and only one I wanted.”
“I’m with you all the way. You’re safe here, you and Luke. No one will even know you’re here until you want it.”
“Cate.” Darlie’s voice simply shattered on the word. “He said he’d give me full custody of Luke.” Tears rolled again. She grabbed more tissues. “He said, he thought it was only fair, like our child is a bargaining chip. If I’d give him a quick divorce without any hassles, didn’t blast him in the press, he’d give me full custody. He was having another kid anyway.”
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