Her shoulders shook and huge tears ran down her cheeks.
Web pulled away as if burnt and he stepped out of her personal space. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She wiped her face with her palms. “I lost my husband a year ago today. He was riding his Harley, someone ran him off the road.” Her shoulders hitched and a little sob escaped her lips. “The police told me there was nothing I could do. No witnesses.”
The dryer buzzed and a clock ticked loudly in the office. Her artwork blazed on the computer screen, mute testimony to her enormous talents. Web didn’t know what to say. Her grief was palpable and now he felt like a horned toad. Only a perve would even think of taking advantage of this stunning widow.
Without warning, Lola leaped to her feet and threw her arms around him. She kissed him hard and full on the lips. He pulled back, stunned by the intensity of her passion, and fearful that his response, already noticeable would be rejected when she regained her senses.
“Make love to me. Right, now,” she whispered hoarsely,
All at once it seemed like the air had been sucked out of the room. Rooted to the floor, he could only shake his head in dismay. “No, not now. It’s not right.”
“I’ve been alone for a year, with no one to hold me.” She wept harder. “I’m so lonely.”
He carefully put his arms around her, and gave her a hug. “You’re having an anniversary reaction, it’s completely normal.”
Her response was to bury her face in his chest and cry harder.
“You’re vulnerable now. You’d hate me for taking advantage of you,” he paused. “If and when we do make love, I want it to be because you want me. Not because you’re missing your husband.”
She raised her head, and despite her eyes being puffy from crying, she was still stunning. Always would be in his eyes.
“You are the most honorable man I have ever met.” She patted his chest. “Thank you—for saving me from myself.”
He gave her forehead a chaste peck. “Get dressed. We’re going out.”
She gave off a deer in headlights look. “Where? Why?”
What was she so afraid of? There had to be more to this than just bad dreams. Something wasn’t adding up.
“We’re going to go see an old friend. My mother.”
“Oh.” She smiled and let out a long, slow breath. “Family first?”
“Always.”
CHAPTER FIVE
~*~
Bouncing along in Web’s truck, Lola tried to recall the Summerville from twenty-five years ago, but came up short. The shoreline was the same, but the houses, once run-down, had been yuppified and the business district was beyond quaint. It looked like a real estate brochure.
“I forgot about the Arts Festival,” he muttered. “This is taking twice as long to get to Summerville Cove, my mother’s nursing home.”
As if to underscore his point, a police officer blew his whistle, then stepped in front of Web’s vehicle, so a throng of people could cross the street to get to the easel-lined sidewalks along the shoreline. He rolled his window down and waved at the cop. “Get a better whistle. That one’s not loud enough.”
The uniform laughed and waved Web along.
Lola shivered. “Friend?”
“Pretty much every cop on the SPD is a friend, except Richard Heade.”
“Madre de Dios! Dickhead is still here?”
“Yup, and just as charming as he was in high school, married his high school sweetheart, Elizabeth Jayne Baumgartner. Now he’s the Chief of Police.” He pointed at Heade’s storefront. “And she's into real estate.”
“Ready Betty,” Lola mused, and waved her hands as if she was holding pom-poms. “Always the cheerleader. Rah, rah and all that.”
“She’s still a cheerleader, but now she’s urging people to buy houses, not win games. Careful, she doesn’t corner you. She could talk the ear off an elephant.”
“What about the others?”
“Lots of people never left Summerville.” He turned into a tree lined driveway. “Some, because they wanted to stay and be big fish in a little pond. Others, like me, had family obligations.” He parked the car in a shaded spot. “Now let’s see if Mom remembers you—or me.”
Beverly looked up in surprise when Web and Lola strolled in the door. “You’re early.”
“Brought a friend.” He signed the visitor sheet and introduced the two women.
Beverly gave Lola the once over, her eyes shrewd, as if she could see into Lola’s soul. She seemed to approve of Web’s choice of friends, when at last she smiled.
“Mrs. Bond loves visitors, but she was pretty fuzzy this morning. Kept trying to wander past the alarm, saying she had to get back to work at the school.” Beverly shook her head. “She kept me pretty busy. I think she got tired out, too. She’s napping, but you can take a peek, see if she’s up.”
Lola marveled at the sterile white walls offset only by some bland paint-by-numbers mass-produced art pieces. If she lived in Summerville, she’d make sure this place had some real art, not this garbage. The décor was deadly boring. No wonder Web’s mother kept trying to get out.
Web pushed the door open to a small, but well-kept room. “Well, look who’s awake.”
“Richard Heade, I told you not to come here without an appointment. The only juvenile delinquent I see right now is you. Honestly, don’t you have homework to do?”
Lola and Web exchanged amused glances.
“Mom, it’s me, Webster.”
She reached over to her nightstand and put her glasses on. “Oh, heavens, I’m so sorry, dear. I can’t believe I mistook you for that despicable Richard Heade. Loathsome toady.”
Lola tried to suppress a giggle but failed.
“Who have you got with you, Webster? Come here young lady. Let me take a look at you.”
Lola stepped from behind Web and stood beside his mother’s bed. “Hello, Mrs. Bond. I don’t know if you remember me.”
Web’s mother took Lola’s hands into hers and stared at her for a long time. “Poor child. How will I tell her about the plane crash?”
Lola started, then looked to Web for help.
He raised his hands, palm up and shrugged.
“Poor Lola. All alone now. No parents. She even lost a sister.”
“No, that’s not right,” Lola blurted. Even though she knew Mrs. Bond has Alzheimer’s disease, she felt as if she had to get the record straight. “I never had a sister. I have no idea who that other person was on the plane.”
The elderly woman stroked Lola’s cheek. “There, there. In time you will heal. But today, it’s okay for you to cry on my shoulder.” Surprisingly strong, Mrs. Bond yanked Lola to her bosom and stroked the younger woman’s back. “It’s okay, let it all out. Just let it all out.”
Twenty-five years of grief came roaring back into Lola’s chest and cry she did. She sobbed until Web gently pulled her out of his mother’s iron clutch.
Lola felt relieved when he took her elbow and led her to the door. Not only was it the anniversary of her husband’s death, but now she was reliving her parent’s death in their private plane crash the day they left Mexico to come to her high school graduation. That terrible day.
He went back to his mother’s bedside. “Lola’s had a tough day, Mom. I think I’ll take her home now, okay?”
“Webster, you still have chores to do. Don’t be late.” A light seemed to dim in her eyes. “Tell your father to come in from the garden and wash his hands.”
“Okay, Mom. I’ll do that.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Get some rest, okay?”
Just as Web was about to close his mother’s door, the elderly woman called out, “Web? You take care and watch over Lola. She needs your help, her father was not a nice man.”
Lola froze in place, her gaze locked onto Web’s.
She walked back into Mrs. Bond’s room, poised to ask her what she meant. But the old woman was already asleep and snoring. She bit her tongue to keep from cursing. W
hat did Web’s mother know?
She had never learned who the other person was on the plane in addition to her mother, father and the pilot. It was a woman, the police had said, but forensic investigations were rudimentary twenty-five years ago, and no further information had ever been forthcoming.
Plus, Izzy had insisted that the teenage Lola come live with her and forget about the crash, saying it was an accident, nothing more.
Had it really been an accident?
~*~
Web took Lola’s hand and led her out to the car. She seemed dazed and he worried that she might wander off, like his mother. When he had her settled into the truck, he turned and said, “It’s been a rough day for you. Let’s get a bite to eat.”
“I’m not hungry. And my clothes---”
“Well, I am, and I’d like some company while I eat. There’s really cute place, very casual. Your jeans and tee shirt will be fine.” He put the car in gear.
Lola stared out the window with glassy eyes.
He wanted to engage her in conversation, so he started with a softball question. “So, which name do you prefer me to call you?”
“Lola. Lara’s for my art persona.” She chewed on her lower lip. “I’m not feeling very artistic right now.”
The crowd on Lakeshore Boulevard surged across the crosswalk, the police officer’s whistle, shrieking at those cars trying to slide by.
Web turned in his seat and tried to make eye contact with the woman beside him. “Lola.”
She glanced his way and their gazes locked.
“What’s really going on?”
She shook her head and clenched her hands in her lap. “You wouldn’t believe me, if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“No. Here in safe little Summerville, my story would make me seem more than un poco loco.” She pursed her lips and stared out the side window. The conversation was over.
Through some miracle of timing, a mini-van pulled out of a parking place right in front of Sips Coffee Shop. Web searched his pockets for quarters, but stopped when he saw the parking meter had a bag over its head that read, “Free Parking for Art Fest.”
Dickhead must be having fits over that. Heade looked forward to those end-of-the-month quotas and all the extra revenues heavy parking fines brought in to his piggy bank. To be fair, the levies did help to finance parking and road improvements, but it sure seemed like Dickhead owned more custom suits than the previous Chief.
Web shouldered his way through the jostling crowd, pulling Lola behind him. Why was she being so secretive?
A bell jangled as Web led Lola into Sips and Maggie LaMonica pointed to the only available table right by the window, facing Lakeshore Boulevard. Thinking she’d want to people watch, especially those who loved art, he moved the chair so she could have a better view. Instead, she turned the oak seat around, so she could face the restaurant.
Maggie stopped by the table and offered beverages and the special. “Art Fest salad, a colorful medley of local fresh spinach, strawberries and goat cheese, topped with a smattering of candied pecans, and dressed in a light mixture of balsamic vinegar. You can add grilled chicken, salmon, or shrimp for another five bucks.”
Lola stared into space.
Web handed the menu back to Maggie. “Two iced teas, no sugar and two of the Art Fest salads with chicken. Thanks.”
After Maggie left the table, Web grabbed Lola’s hand. “I’m here for you. Ready to listen, when you’re ready to tell me what happened.”
A single tear coursed down Lola’s cheek and she shook her head.
“Oh, my gawd! As I live and breathe, it's Lola Gomez with the Dweebster?”Beth Heade shrieked her way through the little shop to their table, only to grab Lola out of her chair and hug against her huge breasts. “I can’t believe the invitation made it to you.” Beth’s tone of voice held a strong note of regret.
That it arrived, Web wondered, or that Lola had the nerve to accept it?
Lola flashed him a Help Me look.
“Lola’s pretty tired from her drive, Beth. I’m sure she’ll be glad to catch up with you later on. Maybe at the awards dinner?”
Beth gave him a piercing look. “That is a black tie event. We are filled.” She focused on Lola again. “Sorry, honey, but the rules are the rules. We can’t bend them even for special friends.”
She tapped Web with a folded newspaper and said in a stage whisper, “A sworn officer of the court should be careful who he hangs out with.” She dropped the Gazette in his lap and it flipped opened. He focused on the Remember Them, column which featured Lola and the story of her parents’ fiery deaths.
“For God’s sake, Beth. Lola is sitting right here. What is wrong with you?”
“We don’t need her type here in Summerville.”
Web jumped to his feet. “I never took you for a racist.”
All heads in the restaurant turned in the direction of the argument. Web felt hundreds of eyes boring into his back.
“It’s not about her being a Mexican,” Beth mewled. “It's all her father, the head of a drug cartel. Who knows what she really does, who she really is? Read the article, Web. Ms. Lola has some ‘splaining to do.” And on that note, Beth turned on her heel and marched out the door.
Web wished for a bucket of water to throw on the witch.
Lola stood, glanced around the coffee shop at all the staring patrons and froze. A man in a baseball cap tipped his hat and returned her gaze with a smirk. Web wanted to punch the sneer off his face. The man threw a few bills down and sauntered out the front door.
Cringing, Lola pressed her face into Web’s chest. “We need to leave. Now.”
Food untouched, he tossed money on the table and headed for the exit. Just as they were outside and away from prying eyes, Lola’s phone buzzed. She yanked it out of her pocket and read a text message.
And fainted dead away into Web’s arms.
CHAPTER SIX
~*~
Lola was aware of Web holding her hand before she even opened her eyes. It couldn’t be true. Her home—her studio. Torched? Everything destroyed.
Someone pulled her eyelid back and shone a bright light. Right eye then the left eye. “Pupils equal and reactive.”
She blinked and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and finally, she freed it enough to speak. “Where am I?”
“Welcome back,” a voice answered. “You’re the guest of the Mynderse Memorial Hospital ER.”
“I can pay my own way.” She sat up and the room spun. “What do I owe you?”
Dr. Henry Cho gave her an odd look. “No one said anything about money.”
She grabbed Web’s arm. “Get me out of here. The longer I stay, the more danger—” Mierda.
Web looked at Dr. Cho. “Can you give me a minute, Hank?”
The white-coated physician nodded. “I’ll just go check her lab values.”
Lab values? She looked down. A piece of gauze was taped to her arm. How had she not felt that?
“Lola, look at me.”
Her gaze met his and all she could think of, was how kind he’d been to her. He’d taken in a virtual stranger, and now she was bringing danger to his home. It wasn’t right.
“I don’t know what I was thinking. I should have never come to Summerville.”
“Forget about Beth. She’s an idiot. If we believed everything the Gazette published, then the Lake would have a Loch Ness monster, Big Foot would jog down the Boulevard every third Monday, and UFO's would abduct Dickhead. Hold on—I like that last one.”
She smiled in spite of herself, partly because he was working so hard at trying to cheer her up. “You’re a nice man, a good man, Webster Bond.”
He put his hand on his heart. “Is this where you tell me, you only want to be friends?”
“No!” She realized he was kidding. “You. How do you do that? I’m scared to death and you make me laugh.”
“Don’t you remember my title?” He smiled. “Class Clown? A
hh, how quickly we forget. The red nose? The squeaky shoes?”
She grinned and smacked his chest. “Stop. You’re making that up.”
“Yes, yes I am. So, seriously, while you were conveniently passed out, I read your text. Who the hell would torch your home and studio? What or who were you running from?”
Lola took a deep breath. How many tests did the man need to pass in order to prove, he could be trusted? She called on all the saints she could remember and began to spill her guts, starting with her swim in the pool. Just as she got to the part where Web pulled her over and she feared he was a kidnapper about to throw her into the trunk of her own armored car, Dr. Cho re-appeared.
“You look better.” He waved a sheet of paper at Lola and read the discharge instructions to her. “And here, my dear, is your starter pack of iron tablets. You are anemic, which can be the cause of your fainting. Have you been doing anything strenuous lately? Working out extra hard?”
“Well, I’ve been running a lot.”
“Aha. I knew it. You look like a runner. You need to see your primary care physician when you get home, have follow-up blood work. In the meantime, you’re free to go.”
“What about my bill?”
“Talk to the people at the desk. They handle all that.” He waved good-bye.
Brow furrowed, Web appeared to be deep in thought.
Her breath caught in her throat. What if he thought she really was loco? “Do you believe me?”
“Yes, I do. I’m trying to put the pieces together.”
They settled her bill and wandered out to the hospital parking lot. The sun had set hours ago. Soon, Web would have to prepare for work. Rather than go to another restaurant on a busy Friday night, they opted for drive-through.
As they unwrapped the largest burgers fast food could produce without requiring a forklift, Web probed for more information. “What are your theories about this, Lola? Who would want you kidnapped?”
She shrugged and licked mayonnaise off her fingers. “Narco terrorists run much of Mexico. With the exception of La Familia cartel, they all kidnap for ransom. If you don’t pay?” She drew her finger tip across her throat. “You’re dead.” She stopped talking. “In my dream, the thug was about to chop off my hands, my livelihood—with his machete.”
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