Now we’re even, Jess.
Dealing with her had slowed him down. He’d wanted to cross her off his list on the first night he was free, but she’d been waiting for him, and that had forced him to develop a different plan. He felt satisfaction that the attack had gone as he anticipated, but he also felt oddly empty about the experience. He’d expected adrenaline. He’d expected the high of being back in the game. Instead, the violence itself had done nothing for him. Watching her realize that he’d won, watching the light go out of her eyes, had been a hollow victory.
Maria Lopes would be different.
Hope would be with him for Maria Lopes, as she had been for the others. Screaming for him to stop.
Rudy sipped his coffee. He’d bought it at the same coffee shop in the Ferry Building where he’d met Nina Flores. He hadn’t been back there since that first time. He’d been idly curious if anyone would recognize him, but no one did. He’d ordered, got his coffee, and left. There had been no life-changing, heart-stopping moment as there had been with Nina.
In the shadows of the Ferry Building, he watched the woman sitting on the waterfront bench not far away. They had the Embarcadero mostly to themselves. She wasn’t aware of him, although he’d been following her for half an hour. She had coffee, as he did, from the same place; he’d been four customers behind her in line. He thought it was interesting that she went there, bypassing other coffee shops on the route that led from her apartment to the water.
He walked along the sidewalk, approaching her. She was too caught up in her thoughts to notice him. She was on the bayside bench, and he sat down on the city-facing bench directly behind her. All the other benches around them were empty. He could feel her stiffen with annoyance that she was sharing her morning with a stranger.
“Hello, Eden,” he said.
His voice was like the touch of a live wire, jolting her to her feet. She spun around, and he heard some of her coffee splatter on the sidewalk. He stared at the palm trees of the Embarcadero without looking back at her.
“What are you doing here, Rudy?” she demanded.
“I miss our chats.”
“Get the hell away from me!”
“That’s no way to talk to an old friend,” he replied smoothly. “You’re the one who wanted the voice inside, remember? How can you get that if we don’t talk?”
“How did you find me?”
“I do my research, just like you. I like your new place, by the way. High-floor condo. Security building. No one’s likely to wander in off the street and surprise you, are they?”
He didn’t think she would run away. Not from him. He saw her studying the street in both directions to confirm that they were alone. She came around to the other side of the bench and sat down next to him. Her face was drawn and tired, without makeup.
“Not sleeping well?” he asked. “Still having nightmares?”
“I don’t need your concern.”
“Well, I know how it is. You close your eyes, and you’re right back in the past. That’s how trauma works. I’d like to tell you it gets better, but it doesn’t. It’s with you until you die.”
“Shut up, Rudy.”
He watched her touch the scar that adorned her skin like a necklace. He’d seen her do that many times. It was a habit, like a way to remind herself who she was. She was layer upon layer of toughness. That was how she’d survived. If it came to a battle between the two of them, he didn’t know who would win.
“Have you seen the news?” he asked.
Her fingers tightened around her coffee cup. “Yes. You killed Jess Salceda. Why? She was never part of your plan.”
He didn’t say anything. Even around Eden, he was cautious.
“Do you think I’m recording you?” she asked.
“No, but you have new friends. Your book has a new hero.”
“I hope you don’t think you were ever the hero in my book.”
“Maybe not, but your loyalties are divided now. That worries me. We had an agreement, Eden. If you break the rules, don’t be surprised if your opponent does the same. Jess learned that the hard way.”
“Don’t threaten me, Rudy. It’s not smart.”
“I could say the same thing,” he replied.
Eden shrugged. Her face was a shell that didn’t crack. “If you stay here, if you keep doing this, they’re going to catch you. Or kill you.”
“Well, that should make for an exciting end to your book.”
“You’re right. It will.”
“How’s the book coming, by the way? Are you almost done?”
“You tell me,” she said.
He couldn’t suppress the barest smile at that remark.
“Do you already have a deal with a publisher?” he asked. “I imagine this project will make you a lot of money. Big advance. Book tour. Maybe another movie. I wonder who they’ll get to play me.”
“It’s not about the money,” Eden said.
“Right, it’s about proving yourself as a writer. It’s about getting inside my head. Or is it about getting inside your head, Eden? Honestly, I’ve always wondered about that. Is the book really about me, or are you trying to understand who you are? After all this time, you still can’t come to grips with what happened to you in that basement.”
“Don’t psychoanalyze me, Rudy. Experts have tried and failed.” She crushed her empty coffee cup in her hand. “Enough with the games. Why are you here? Why did you find me?”
“I need your help.”
“Forget it,” Eden snapped. “I’m done with that. It’s over.”
“That’s not how it works. You know that.”
Eden jumped to her feet. “No? I’m leaving, and you’re going to stay away from me. Got it? The next thing I do is buy a gun, and if you come near me again, I’ll put a bullet between your eyes. Do you think anyone would care if I killed you? Do you think they’d put me on trial? I think they’d give me a medal. Now that would be quite the ending for my book, Rudy.”
“Fine. Walk away. I won’t stop you.”
She stared at him, breathing fast. Her eyes were fierce. The seconds ticked by, and the day got brighter. A trolley train passed them on its way to the Wharf, its bells chiming.
“And yet here you are, Eden,” Rudy went on. “We both know you’re not going anywhere. Face it, you need me to keep your secret.”
Eden said nothing. He watched her stand there, frozen, as if her feet were glued to the pavement. When she spoke, she practically spat her words back at him. “What the hell do you want, anyway?”
Rudy calmly sipped his coffee. He was in no hurry.
“I want you to tell me everything you know about Frost Easton.”
29
Frost had spent all night wanting to get home, but when he got there, the silence of the house felt oppressive. He was too tired to sleep, and when he closed his eyes, the memory of Jess haunted him. He found himself wandering up and down the stairs, through the house’s dusty rooms, with Shack keeping pace beside him. He wasn’t looking for anything; he was just restless and hurting.
Downstairs, at the mirrored bar, he found the bottle of Trago Reposado he kept for Jess. Only a third of the tequila was gone, but she wouldn’t be having any more shots. He unscrewed the bottle and inhaled its aroma, which he remembered on her breath. Then he overturned it in the sink and watched the alcohol splash and swirl as it disappeared down the drain.
He couldn’t stay here.
“Road trip?” he said to Shack.
The cat propped his front paws on Frost’s leg to be picked up, and Frost scooped him up and deposited him on his shoulder. Shack hung on with his claws. The two of them left the house and headed for Frost’s Suburban.
Like most San Franciscans, Frost avoided the tourist-infested area of Fisherman’s Wharf whenever he could, but in the early morning hours, he could usually get in and out ahead of the crowds. He parked at the red curb near Alioto’s on the bay and got out. Shack, who knew exactly what it meant to b
e down here, patrolled the dashboard impatiently. Frost greeted his old friends behind the counter at the seafood stand and ordered a Dungeness crab cocktail. They all knew him here. The cop with the cat. If there was one thing Shack loved, it was crab.
He got back in the Suburban, and Shack was all over him. It made it hard to drive, keeping one hand on the wheel and one hand on Shack’s nose to prevent him from eating all the crab before he got where he was going. In the end, he gave up and started feeding Shack pieces of crab to eat on the front seat, and in between, he took some for himself, too.
He drove out of the Wharf area into the Marina District. Duane owned a tiny one-bedroom condominium a block from the yacht harbor. For the price, it was a ridiculous indulgence, because Duane was hardly ever there. But his brother had wanted a waterside apartment his whole life, and when he sold his first restaurant to an investment group, he channeled some of the profit into his Marina dream.
The morning was still early, but the sun was up. He parked across the street from the three-story building and eyed the top-floor window behind the fire escape where Duane lived. The curtains were closed. Half a block away, he saw the masts of the million-dollar boats whose owners could afford a slip on the bay. He rolled down the window and smelled the sea air. He and Shack finished the crab cocktail, and the cat licked the empty container until it fell on the floor of the truck.
When he looked at the building again, he saw a woman hurrying down the plaza steps that led to the sidewalk. Her red hair bounced. She wore big sunglasses and a purple dress, with a matching long-strapped purse slung over her shoulder. She looked as if she always had some place to go and couldn’t wait to get there.
It was Tabby.
Frost called to her, and she stopped in surprise next to a red Saab that was parked on the street. She saw him, and a warm smile lit up her face. She crossed the street and took note of Shack, who hopped on the dashboard and pushed his pink nose toward her face.
“Well, look who the cat dragged in,” she told Frost as she pulled off her sunglasses and let him drink in her green eyes. “Literally.”
“Yeah, I know who people really want to see,” Frost replied as Tabby rubbed Shack’s head.
He didn’t think he was wearing his grief on his face, but with a single knowing glance, Tabby assessed his expression and saw through him. “What’s going on, Frost?” she asked. “Are you okay?”
He told her.
Tabby’s smile vanished. Her face broke into sad little pieces. She put a hand on the back of his head and leaned closer until their foreheads touched through the car window. The simple intimacy of the gesture made him breathe harder. “Oh, Frost, I am so, so sorry.”
“Thanks. It doesn’t feel real.”
She opened his car door and grabbed his arm. “Come on, let’s take a walk.”
“No, you’re on your way somewhere. It’s okay.”
“I have to buy today’s fish down at the piers. Don’t worry, they know I’m coming. They’ll put aside the best catch for me even if I’m a couple minutes late.”
Frost let her pull him out of the Suburban. She reached in and grabbed Shack, too, despite her allergies. The cat nuzzled against her neck and settled comfortably in the crook of one arm. They walked down the block and crossed Marina Boulevard, with Tabby’s other arm slung through Frost’s elbow. She led him across an open space of green lawn until they found a bench in front of the bobbing speedboats and sailboats. Across the bay, the hills of Angel Island and Tiburon rose in front of them. Tabby put Shack down, and the cat sat calmly between them on the bench, squinting his eyes against the sea breeze. The sun was warm.
“Tell me about Jess,” Tabby said. “If I’m not prying.”
“You’re not.” He hesitated, not because he was reluctant to talk, but because he didn’t know how to describe her. “Jess was a deep track,” he said finally.
“What do you mean?”
“She wasn’t radio friendly. She wasn’t the song with the hook you can’t get out of your head. You’d have to listen to her a bunch of times to appreciate her, and then you’d be glad you did.”
“What a generous way of describing someone,” Tabby replied. “I really like it. I’d like to be a deep track for someone, but I’m afraid I’ll always be ‘Shut Up and Dance,’ you know what I mean?”
He thought she was being exceptionally unfair to herself.
“I know Jess was your boss,” Tabby went on, “but I get the feeling there was something personal with you two. Or am I wrong?”
“No, you’re not wrong. Jess and I were never going to be a great love affair. Even so, we had a connection. I’m not sure either one of us could have explained exactly what it was.”
“Sometimes those are the most important people. At least when you’re not driving each other crazy.”
Frost laughed. “Yes, that was me and Jess.”
Tabby smoothed the fur on Shack’s back. Her eyes were already pink and watery, but that didn’t seem to stop her. “Did you need something over at Duane’s place? He’s got plenty of leftovers in the freezer, so help yourself.”
“No, I just wanted to talk.”
“With Duane? Good luck. He’s always up and out at four in the morning. I feel like a slacker when I sleep until six.”
“Yeah, that’s Duane. Early riser.”
She gave him a strange look. “Did you want to talk to me?”
“Actually, I did,” he admitted. He went on quickly, because he felt the need to explain. “You’ve been there. You know what it’s like to lose a friend. Especially that way.”
Even as he said it, he knew that he was lying. It was more than that. The fact that he was able to open up to Tabby about losing Jess was a neon warning sign that he felt a connection with her. Except he couldn’t afford to feel that way. Tabby had barbed wire around her. She was with Duane.
“Wow, I—I’m glad that you thought of me.” She added after a pause, “Hey, Duane and I are having dinner with your parents tonight at Boulevard. You should come with us.”
“I don’t want to intrude. This is your chance to get to know Ned and Janice. Away from the support group, that is.”
Tabby took his hand. It felt way too natural for her to do so. “Really, Frost, I’d like you there.”
The safe thing to say was no, but he heard himself tell her, “Sure. Okay.”
“Excellent. Seven o’clock.” She added, “Speaking of the support group, the families of the victims are meeting on Saturday afternoon. I have to work, but I hope you can make it.”
“I’m under orders to be there,” Frost said. “I’m sure they’ll all be happy to see me.”
“It won’t be so bad. I promise.”
“We’ll see about that.” Frost slid his phone from his pocket. “I met with Gilda Flores, by the way. I was in Nina’s room, and I saw a photo of the two of you. I thought you’d like to see it again.”
He showed her the picture he’d taken of Nina’s birthday button, showing Tabby and Nina cheek to cheek in her bedroom, with the memorabilia of her life on the wall behind them. They were two friends, inseparable, with the world at their feet and their whole lives ahead of them.
But that would only turn out to be true for one of them.
Tabby enlarged the photo to show their faces. “We look young.”
“You were.”
“I know, but nine years ago? It’s like an eternity. I can’t believe she’s been gone for so long. Look at us. That was a week before her twenty-first birthday. We had no idea. I mean, imagine if you could spin a wheel and know exactly when you were going to die. What if we’d spun it that day, and Nina saw that two weeks later, she’d be gone?”
“I’m glad there’s not a wheel like that,” Frost said.
“You wouldn’t want to know?”
“No.”
“I guess you’re right. I guess that’s the mystery.” She gave him back his phone, as if she didn’t want to stare at the past anymore. “I better
go buy some fish.”
“Of course.”
“Unless you want me to stick around longer? I can if you want. Are you going to be okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” Frost said.
“What’s your number?” she asked. When he gave it to her, she worked the keyboard on her phone. “I just texted you my number, too. Call me whenever, okay? I’m serious.”
“Thanks.”
Tabby stood up. She was about to leave, but then she tucked her phone back in her purse and sat down again. Shack bumped her with his head to get her to pet him. “There’s something I’ve always wondered about.”
“What’s that?”
“Why do you think Cutter picked her?” Tabby asked. “Why did he pick Nina instead of me? She and I were both there at the coffee shop. He must have talked to both of us. We were so similar that we were almost like sisters. I mean, what if it had gone the other way? She’d be here, and I’d be dead.”
“You shouldn’t think like that.”
“Oh, but I do. I do all the time. I feel guilty about it.”
“The only one who should feel guilty is Rudy Cutter,” Frost said. “And maybe me.”
“You? You didn’t do anything wrong. You just did your job.”
“Me doing my job got Jess killed.”
He watched Tabby’s lips part in dismay, as if she wanted to tell him, No, that’s not true. But she couldn’t. Her green eyes reached for him across the short space because she had no comforting words to say. He felt her wanting to get closer to him. Her hand made a gesture in his direction, as if the next motion would be to touch his shoulder or his cheek. He saw her lean in, just a little, just enough to encourage him to lean in to her, too. Her chin tilted in what was unmistakably an invitation to a kiss. At that moment, he knew that she felt the chemistry, too. There was something magnetic and dangerous between them.
Then her whole face changed as she remembered the situation. A tiny flash of horror came and went across her features.
The Voice Inside (Frost Easton Book 2) Page 18