Ben looked at him. “Pie?”
“Yeah, pie. I’m in the mood for pie. What the hell is wrong with pie?”
“Daddy!” Lilly was aghast.
“Nothing,” Ben said. “I like pie.”
“So, let me wash up and we’ll go to the Pie House.”
“That’s fine, George.” Ben scratched his stubbled face. “I was kinda hoping to talk in a little bit more privacy.”
“We’ll take a back booth.” George was already on his way to the bathroom.
When he left, Lilly shook her head. “He really likes you, you know. He’s just a gruff guy.”
“I know your dad. We’re all friends here.” The doorbell rang, and a moment later Ezra Rael came in with an armful of games. He spotted Ben. “Are Haley and Griff here?”
“At the movies.”
“Oh.” The kid stood there, rooted to his spot. Lilly relieved him of the materials. “Wanna cookie, Ez?”
“Sure.”
George came out a moment later. He looked at his daughter. “You didn’t tell me he was coming over.”
The boy blushed. Lilly said, “Yes, I did. You just don’t hear me when I talk.”
“I can’t leave you two here alone—”
“Daddy, stop it.”
“Your mom will kill me.”
“We can talk here, George. There are perfectly good cookies if you need a sugar fix.”
The old man shook his head. “We’ll bring the pie home.” He glared at his daughter. “Won’t take more than a half hour.” His eyes went to Ezra. “You behave yourself.”
“Daddy!”
Ben pulled his arm. “C’mon, George. The quicker we go, the quicker we come home.”
“You drive,” he told Ben.
“You sure?”
“You can’t drive?”
“Of course I can drive. I drove here.”
“Then drive to the Pie House,” George said. “You know where it is?”
“Yes, George, I’ve lived here my entire life.” Ben took out his car keys. “See you two later.”
“No funny business,” George reiterated.
George was a big man and he had to push the passenger seat all the way back to get comfortable. After Ben pulled out of the driveway and drove a hundred feet down the road, the old man said, “My house is bugged.”
“Huh?” Ben turned to him, and then faced the road. “Did I just hear right?”
“Maybe my garage and car too, although I can’t swear to that. You can’t tell anyone.”
“Sure . . . no, of course not.” Ben was trying to think of a way to keep the conversation going. “Is it the government?”
“I sure hope so. Better them than Iran or China or Russia, but even if it was a hostile entity, they wouldn’t find out anything. June and I don’t sit around talking trade secrets. I suspect the bugging is homegrown and that’s fine. Good old Uncle Sam can listen in on me. We work with very sensitive material and I guess after Wen Ho Lee and some of the other major snafus at the lab, they’re attempting to be a little more mindful of what’s going on. June and I have got nothing to hide, but you look like you have something on your mind. Maybe one day you’ll want a government job, and if you’re on crack or something, it’s none of their business.”
“I’m not on crack.” Ben turned right, heading for the Pie House. He was flabbergasted. “How did you find out your house is bugged?”
“About two years ago, the dishwasher conked out. We rarely use it and the one time we wanted to use it after a party, we were surprised it didn’t work. June called a repairman and made an appointment for two days later. Then an hour later someone shows up.”
“An hour later?”
“Yeah, says he was in the neighborhood and just decided to kill two birds with one stone. That kind of service is unheard of for River Remez, right? Everything takes days. No one is in a hurry. Anyway, this guy pulls the dishwasher out and fixes it, and about a half hour later we got a working dishwasher. Fine and dandy except two days later another repairman shows up at the time that June made the original appointment. June tells him they already sent someone out two days ago. The repairman says no one was sent out. June tells him to call his office. Besides, look at the dishwasher. It works. The guy decides to check it out and it does work. But then he looks a little further. He starts pulling out a wire, then another one, then another. Finally, June tells him not to mess with it . . . sticks all the wires back behind the dishwasher . . . and we left it at that. We went out for dinner the next night, and she told me about it. She’s working on some top-secret projects, so she put two and two together.”
“God, that’s weird.” Ben pulled into the Pie House and they both got out. George zipped up his jacket and, walking at a clipped pace, entered the establishment. He said, “Pick a pie.”
“Apple?”
“How about chocolate cream?”
“That’s fine.”
“We’ll get both.”
“George, I’m not even hungry.”
“Give it to your mother. You want some coffee? Sure you do.” The man bought two pies and two coffees. He also bought two individual pieces of coconut cream pie. They sat in the car with the motor running, and ate pie with plastic forks and drank coffee from paper cups. George stuffed a wad of whipped cream into his mouth. “What’s on your mind, Ben?”
“I need your help.”
“You want a recommendation for Caltech?”
“What? No. I’m staying here for college.”
“Big mistake.”
“That’s not what I want to talk about. It’s about my sister’s case.” Slowly and in detail, Ben went over everything he had learned and his conclusions about who the killer might be. George stared out the windshield while Ben talked, as if the old man was watching TV, and ate pie, licking his fingers and smacking his lips. When Ben was done, George wiped his lips with a napkin. “Let’s go home.”
Ben started up the car and waited for George to speak. He didn’t have to wait very long.
“Give me the date again.”
“For Ellen’s abduction or for all the murders?”
“Start with Ellen.” After Ben gave him the date, George said, “You ever been inside the complex, Ben?”
“Just the standard tours.”
“If you were to come visit me at my office—if they’d let you in—security would put a cassette around your neck and take it back when you leave. Every action inside the hub is recorded or monitored or both: audio, video, my computer, phone calls, e-mails. You can’t make a move without someone noticing it. If you’re asking me to look up who visited around the time your sister was abducted, I’m going to have to think up something that doesn’t get my ass fired, or worse, land me in jail.”
“Both of those options are out,” Ben said.
“On the other hand, if what you’re telling me has any merit, I’ll be happy to land my ass in jail to expose someone so evil, especially if it prevents something bad from happening in the future.” He turned to Ben. “It’d be helpful if you had something other than your hunch for me to go on.”
“I wish I had more, but I don’t.” Silence. “George, I don’t want you to do anything that gets you in trouble. I want to make that clear.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I suppose I just want you to keep your eyes and ears open, especially around the upcoming vernal equinox.”
George said. “I’ll keep my eyes and ears open. Now here’s something I want you to do for me.”
“I’m not applying to Caltech—”
“I want you to stop probing into this shit, Ben. You did all you could and now leave it up to the experts. If Shanks said he’ll talk to people, he’ll talk to people. Go out and be seventeen. By your age, I had already knocked up my first wife.”
Ben laughed. “That’s what I should aspire to?”
“If it’s a choice between knocking up a girl or facing down the U.S. government, yeah, that is what yo
u should aspire to.”
Ben pulled up in the driveway. “Thanks for your help, George.”
“Just remember what I told you. No more.” George stared out the window again. “From what you told me, the guy operates every nine months, which would put the date of his operation closer to the summer solstice.”
“He could deviate.”
“Doesn’t sound like it. Sounds like he’s on a nine-month schedule.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Ben felt the pie churning in his stomach. “I’m afraid he’s coming back to River Remez to start the cycle all over again.”
Chapter 8
In the boyfriend department, Ben got the sex part down pretty quickly. It was the other things in which he needed tutoring. Ro knew who Vicks was. Or rather what he wasn’t. He wasn’t inconsiderate or rude or harsh or mean. But he was absent. Even when he was around, which wasn’t that often given their conflicting schedules, his mind was elsewhere. She knew he loved her, but his brain functioned differently from that of any guy she’d ever met. He rarely texted, he rarely called. She initiated all of the interaction between them. They saw each other on weekends, but the distance and his lack of checking in made it hard to keep a relationship going.
In the beginning of February, on a Sunday, they were alone in her house and in her room. It wasn’t particularly girlie, but it was set up just the way she liked. She had an enormous closet and a makeup area in addition to a functional desk. Her bedding was all pastels and whites and filled with soft, downy pillows. But she doubted whether Ben had ever noticed any of her things. His thought process was always thus: her, alone, a bedroom, sex.
But today, she had other things on her mind, and he was aware enough to know that she was peeved. He wore his usual T-shirt and jeans and sneakers. Once in a while she wished he’d put on a regular shirt. He looked good when he dressed up.
He said, “Something bothering you?”
“Good call,” Ro said.
“What’d I do?”
“It’s what you don’t do. You never call me. What’s up with that?”
“I don’t?”
“No. You don’t.”
“Okay. I’ll call you more. I thought we talked all the time.”
“That’s because I call you.”
“Oh. Okay.” He thought a moment. “I can see where that would be annoying. Sorry.”
He said it so plainly and so logically. Ro said, “You have a chance to make it up to me next week. It’s Valentine’s Day. This is what you’re going to do, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I want roses when I wake up in the morning—a dozen red roses. I’m very conventional. You pick me up later and take me out to a romantic dinner and then top it off with a blingy gift. Is that clear enough?”
He was writing the instructions down in his phone. When he was done, he stowed the phone in his pocket. “Got it.” When she sighed, he said, “It’ll be perfect. I promise you.” He kissed her. “Really. I promise.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Can we make love?”
She hit him.
“That’s a no?”
“What am I going to do with you?”
“What do you want to do with me?”
Ro shook her head and started unbuttoning her blouse. Sometimes she made love to him because she wanted to and it felt really good. But there were times, like today, when it was just something to do, something to pass the time so she wouldn’t get annoyed at him.
Valentine’s Day: no roses waiting in the morning. Nor was there even a phone call. Ro had checked her cell a dozen times, then the message machine on the landline. She was about to call him, but then she thought better of it.
Fuck it.
By the time she made it to school and opened her locker, she was furious. What did it take to get through to him?
Or maybe he just didn’t care.
Her cheeks went wet. She saw JD staring at her. The boy looked real fine and that made her even madder. There was still that spark with him, and with Ben’s absence, it was growing stronger. She quickly averted her eyes, but he walked over to her and placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.” She managed a smile. “Really, I’m okay.”
“Okay.” He pressed a small wrapped package into her hands. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sugar.” When he saw the surprise in her eyes, he said, “If I’m supposed to be wooing you back, I have to play the part.”
“What is it? A plastic ring?”
His smile was wide. “Why don’t you open it and find out?”
She tore open the paper and lifted the lid on the box.
Inside were small gold hoops, each with a tiny yellow diamond. They were gorgeous. She couldn’t speak.
“Try them on,” JD urged. She did and he nodded. “Beautiful. But it’s the girl, not the jewelry.” He leaned casually against the locker. “Look, I know that Vicks probably has something planned—”
“Not that I know of,” Ro blurted out.
JD was silent. Then he said, “O-kay.”
She checked her phone. Still no damn call. “Thank you very much.” She kissed his cheek. “I love them.”
“Ben isn’t taking you out?” JD asked.
“I wouldn’t know. He hasn’t called.” When JD laughed, she hit him. “It’s not funny.”
“No, it’s not ha-ha funny.” JD shrugged. “It’s just ironic funny. He worked so hard to get you and he doesn’t have a clue how to keep you.”
“Excuse me? Talk about not being able to keep a girl.”
“At least I knew I was fucking up. Vicks is just oblivious. He’s not a bad guy, Ro. But his mind doesn’t work like yours or mine. Let me take you out for dinner. He obviously forgot.”
“No, he didn’t. He wrote it down in his phone.”
“After you told him what to do, right?”
Ro didn’t answer right away. “He loves me.”
“I know. What’s there not to love?”
“I love him.”
“Fine. He loves you and you love him. I get it. If he doesn’t call, can I take you out?”
“If he doesn’t call by four, you can take me out for coffee.”
“Girls go out for coffee, Ro. I go out to eat. Let’s go to Kiki’s. It’s casual enough that it’s not a real dinner date but they serve great burgers. Deal?”
“Don’t you have practice?”
“Not today. I think Coach has to do something for the missus.” The bell rang. “I’ll upgrade you to something better than Kiki’s, but tell me soon. All the good places will be booked up.”
“He’s gonna call.” She was talking to JD’s back. Then she checked her phone again.
Nothing.
By the time lunch ended, Ro decided that she wasn’t going to talk to Ben even if he deigned to call. But it turned out to be a moot point. She couldn’t find her phone. She checked her purse and her locker. She backtracked to all the classrooms and bathrooms, but it had simply disappeared.
“Want mine?” JD asked.
“No, I want to find mine. I want to see if he called . . .” She was suddenly furious! “Actually, I don’t care if he called. If he wants to be with me bad enough, he’ll show up after school. If he doesn’t, I’ve had it.”
“Whatever you want, princess.”
“How come you weren’t this nice when we were going together?”
“They paved paradise and put up a parking lot.” He took her books and walked her to her locker. As she fiddled with her schoolwork, he leaned against the wall. “How about . . . if I take you somewhere really nice?”
“You’re not getting any play.”
“I’m not asking for play.” He grinned. “We can just talk . . . isn’t that what you girls like anyway?”
Ro shook her head and rolled her eyes.
“I know I have no credibility, but really, I can control myself. You don’t play quarterback like I
do without control.”
“Maybe he’ll show up.” Ro didn’t believe her own words.
“Look, I’ll follow you home. If he’s there, I’ll just keep driving by. If he’s not, we’ll make an evening of it. Maybe go to a movie first and then dinner.”
“Stop being so nice.” When he was silent, she said, “Okay . . . okay, fine. No harm in a movie and dinner, right?”
“No harm at all.”
And that’s exactly what happened when Ben didn’t show up after school or at her house.
But not quite.
The movie was some stupid love story—soppy and romantic, the way Ro liked it. The place JD chose for dinner was much nicer than a coffee shop, but not an elegant restaurant that would have been over-the-top for the evening. The dessert was a special chocolate cake baked in the shape of a heart. It oozed chocolate fudge as soon as she took a bite. She shared it with JD and they laughed as chocolate dripped onto the table. The evening was perfect for what he had proposed and he behaved himself. He saved the kiss for when they were done and Ro didn’t feel the least bit guilty about it.
When JD suggested a ride to top off the evening, she was wary. But then she realized how lonely she’d been for male attention. He was the wrong boy and she knew it was wrong, but she didn’t care. He took her somewhere up in the hills and they stared at the twinkling lights of Santa Fe. It was cold outside—freezing, to be exact—but the night was clear and the view was spectacular. He pulled something from the backseat. Ro figured it was a joint—JD was a recreational doper—but it turned out to be a bottle of champagne and plastic flutes. She looked at him with suspicious eyes.
He said, “Just thought it would be a nice topper.” A pause. “You don’t have to.”
“One glass.”
“That’s the girl I know and love.”
“Where were you three months ago?”
“With my head in my ass.” He poured and they clicked glasses. “For what it’s worth, I’m really, really sorry.”
Ro didn’t answer. When he refilled her glass, she hadn’t realized that she had polished off the first. When he poured a third glass, she was feeling it—not enough to be drunk but enough to be happy.
Killing Season Page 29