"I am already an honest woman. Too honest to get married again. And besides, everyone knows you’re a confirmed bachelor."
"Right." Dane nodded his head slowly. "You’re right. No one would ever believe it."
"So we need another option, here." Jessica swept past him and crossed to her bedroom door, where she paused and turned to gaze back at him.
"I’ll think about it," Dane said at last. "Surely I can come up with something more… practical."
"You do that. See you in the morning." Jessica smiled and blew him a kiss before closing her bedroom door.
Fourteen
Unsettled, Unsolved
Dane closed the trunk firmly and turned to the woman waiting beside the car. Down below, he could hear the laughter of a child playing in the yard, and he was glad Devon had not joined them on the cliff.
It was all he could do to not absorb her every fiber into him. Her hair, a mass of sleepy curls, floated about her face in the breeze, inviting his fingers to--
"I hate for you to go," she told him.
He pulled her tightly against him, his hands roaming over her back, her shoulders.
"If I don’t go, I won’t go," he replied. "You need some time to think about things. You stay up here and… think… for awhile."
"Okay."
"And don’t worry so much. Things will work out the way they are supposed to."
"Okay."
Unable to stop himself, Dane ran his fingers into her hair, pulling it away from her face, and, using every molecule of resistance he could muster, kissed her on the forehead. He was walking the wrong edge of a blade; he couldn’t tread lightly enough.
"Call me when you get back. I won’t bother you."
"Okay."
He kissed her once more, this time on the cheek, and then abruptly released her. Feeling incredibly awkward, he got into the Mustang and started it up. From the vantage point of his parking spot, he could just see the roundish finial at the top of Point Surrender, and he sighed.
"Dane--" Jessica began, and he swore her fingers were trembling as they grasped the door frame of his car. "Thanks for everything. And thanks for being so good to Dev. He’s so much better."
"Sure." Dane nodded, gave her a little wave and headed up the gravel road back to the highway. He couldn’t bear to see the tears glistening in her eyes any longer.
He drove straight through without stopping. Six hours of wonder, worry, suffering. Had he done the right things? Said the right things? Had he blown it by joking about marriage?
It was a cheap move to ask her the way he did. Using Chester to gain her commitment was wrong. Fortunately, she assumed he was asking in jest. But the way he saw it, it was his only shot. They could go on from there, and she might come to love him eventually.
Damn! He thumped the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. Nine months. It had been almost nine months, and she was still talking about Mac all the time. She was completely ignorant of the tiny needles that jabbed at his heart with every word.
Guilt washed over him time and again. He’d done a good job, made a good show of confidence, friendship, and solidity for her sake. Inside, he was just as anguished as she.
He would never gain the kind of love she had for Mac, but his obsession gave him no choices. He was willing to settle.
But damn, how he’d wanted to taste her lips!
~ * ~
She was achy when she crawled out of bed the next morning. Jessica pulled on her sweat pants and groped around for her slippers; it was crispy cold in the house.
In the kitchen, she peered through squinting eyes. The sunlight pouring through the kitchen window was blinding. Feeling her way across the counter, she managed to put together a cup of instant coffee.
"We could… get married." Dane’s words were knocking around in her head, and had kept her awake half the night. He’d been joking, of course. But still… there was something not quite comical in his suggestion. Something that almost resembled a testing of the waters.
Joke or not, she had ached at the sight of him driving away; she had longed for a kiss, a real kiss, and the words of endearment she knew he could impart. They had not come, and she had returned to the house unsettled and empty.
Her eyelids were heavy. Soon, her son would come bounding out of his room. Her smile was melancholy at the thought; Devon had not wet himself once since Dane had arrived.
Jessica rubbed her eyes, and then shook her head slightly. She would force the silly proposal from her mind. It was a non-issue… unless he brought it up again.
Return to routine is what she needed. Mac swore by it.
"Pancakes. Make some pancakes," Mac said, carrying his feverish two-year-old son into the kitchen.
"Pancakes? He needs medicine!" Jessica replied in exasperation.
"Medicine and pancakes. He loves pancakes. We always have pancakes on Sunday morning."
The date on the flour wasn’t too old. Jessica scraped together what she could, finding a brand new griddle in the drawer under the oven. Pancakes it would be. It was Sunday.
~ * ~
Sergeant Murdo Denehy pulled a thick file folder from the cabinet and dropped it onto his desk, the emanating wind from which blew several phone message notes onto the floor.
From his breast shirt pocket, he plucked a pair of round, gold-rimmed glasses and hooked the wire frames over his ears with a sigh. Methodically he smoothed the sparse hairs back over his very visible scalp with one hand while reaching for a pop-up tissue with the other, wiping the traces of his tuna sandwich lunch from the corners of his mouth.
He opened the file, leaning his head back slightly to get a clearer view through his bi-focal lenses. On top of the various papers and documents filling the folder was a manila envelope. Carefully bending open the tiny brass clasp, Denehy slid out a small collection of various sized photographs. He examined each one closely, laying them side-by-side on the desk beside the file.
"Whatcha got goin’?"
The sergeant looked up as his colleague entered the office. Detective Joe Fusco looked over Denehy’s shoulder at the pictures. "I don’t remember this case. Recent?"
"No. Almost four years ago. She was an actress."
"Gorgeous. An actress? What was she in?"
"Nothing. Only… trouble."
"Aren’t they all," Joe commented, now sitting down at his own desk adjacent to Denehy’s. "Unsolved?"
Denehy sighed. "There was nothing to solve. Jackie Spencer killed herself. Shot another guy in the process, an actor."
Joe spun around in his chair. "I remember! That pirate guy. What was his name? Dave something?"
"Dane Pierce."
The younger man quickly resumed his earlier position. "Yeah, that’s him. And that’s that Dr. Jim guy. The one in the plane crash. Hey, weren’t you working on that deal?"
"Mm-hmm. Minnesota wanted to see my file. I’m, uh, working on it on my own time."
"Some connection?"
"Maybe." Denehy continued to turn pages over in the file, eventually coming across a police report concerning the kidnapping of a relatively unknown starlet. He examined a small photograph of a woman, paper-clipped to the report.
"Wow. That’s MacKendall’s wife. She was kidnapped?"
"Yes. Five years ago. By a crazy ex-husband."
"Where is he now?"
"My first thought, too. But he’s still locked up. Not due to walk until next year."
"You’re trying to tie this all together, aren’t you?"
"I don’t know. I just need to re-read all this crap. There’s just something…" Denehy ended his statement with a nondescript grumble. Now sorting back to the top of the pile, he fingered a stapled deposition.
Joe again retreated to his own desk. "That guy Pierce has got it made. I heard he made about forty million dollars on that desert island flick. Can you imagine? He could have anything he wants. Any car, any property, any woman… anything!"
"Anything." Murdo Denehy close
d the file folder and dropped it into his open briefcase. "I’m not so sure."
No, the sergeant was not at all certain that Dane Pierce could have the one thing he wanted more than anything in the world. And he could not help but wonder to what length the star would go to get it.
He took the file home with him. Cracking this case would assure him the election. Even if it wasn’t a local case, he’d make it one.
~ * ~
It was after sundown when Dane arrived back in Malibu. The house was dark, cold and lonely. Against his better wishes, he had succumbed to pressure from his ex-wife to let Alex stay with her. In retrospect, he was glad Alex had not accompanied him on the impromptu trip.
Dane turned on his bedroom lamp and lay down on the bed. His regret had grown substantially during his six-hour drive home.
What the hell was I thinking? She’s better than that. So much better. I just want her too much.
He took a brief shower and then returned downstairs, rooting around in the kitchen for something to eat. The pantry was fairly devoid of tangibles, so he snagged a bag of small carrots from the refrigerator and went to sit before his computer.
Damn if I haven’t blown it--again. She looked perfectly miserable when I left.
I’ll back-pedal. I’ll remind her that I wasn’t really serious--that I thought she, ha! as if that would work with her. She knows me too damned well.
He stopped typing and stood up, glaring down at the keyboard in chagrin. He glanced toward the kitchen, trying to decide if he should look for a beer. Instead, he sat back down.
She’s probably trying to figure out if I’ve truly lost my mind. I still can’t believe I was stupid enough to suggest it.
Perhaps I will just head on back to the ranch. This town always makes me crazy.
She always makes me crazy.
Fifteen
Daddy
"While I can’t promise anything, I honestly feel you can expect at least a million, probably a million-one for the property."
Jessica stared levelly at the Realtor sitting across from her at the dining room table. "We never used this room, except at Thanksgiving and on rare occasions when Mac would invite over a business associate."
"We can have it listed in the service by Friday. There will be an office exclusive for a week or two, we’ll do a nice broker’s open house, you know, some hot hors d’oeuvres, champagne, the works." The woman pushed a contract across the table, spinning the document so it would read correctly before Jessica.
"Did you know our son was born in this house?"
"That’s nice. Now, what are your plans? It could sell right away, you know."
"I’m not sure," Jessica offered vaguely, one ear tuned on the muted humming emanating from behind Devon’s bedroom door.
"We’re going to run it as a ‘Valentine’s Special’ in the Times Real Estate section. Cover photo."
"No photo. Please."
"Okay, whatever. You said your husband died without a will, right? We can take care of the title issues in escrow. Now if you’ll just sign this listing agreement…"
Jessica forced her attention to the multi-page document, quickly reading through the multitude of conditions in fine print.
"Lock box?"
"It’s a key-safe. So that people can look at the house when you’re not home."
"No. No lock box."
"But Mrs. MacKendall, you realize it’s the best way--"
"No. Appointments only. I would think that was the norm in this… this price range."
"Well, actually, it is. But I always advise my clients to take every advantage--"
"Not this client," Jessica said, offering a warm, if entirely false, smile. "Mrs. Tuttle, you must remember that I have a very young son. This is going to be hard enough as it is, so I do appreciate your compassion."
"Certainly. Now, getting back to my earlier question, how soon would you be able to move out? You want a thirty, sixty, or ninety day escrow?"
Jessica filled her lungs and looked away. Thirty days? What did it matter, anyway? She exhaled and turned back. "Let’s see what an offer brings. I’ll be happy to negotiate that."
"Fine. Here’s your copy. I’ll be here Friday morning to set up the broker’s ‘open’, so what time will you and the little one be leaving?"
"Leaving?"
"Well, it’s protocol for the owners to, shall we say, make themselves scarce during the open houses and showings, if possible."
"Scarce. You are expecting us to just go away."
"It is preferable. People feel… conspicuous if the owners are lurking about. You understand."
Jessica paused, then nodded, if hesitantly. "Okay. I’ll call you before Friday morning to work that out." She stood then, hoping to indicate that the meeting was over. Mrs. Tuttle snapped up the contract and was on her feet.
"Thank you so much for the opportunity to market your property, Mrs. MacKendall. I’ll be in touch."
I’ll bet you will, Jessica thought sourly, again pasting a condescending smile on her face as she walked the Realtor to the front door.
~ * ~
Dane eased the silver Carrera out of the driveway and headed south on Pacific Coast Highway. Rita still went by "Pierce", and her newest digs were in the high rent neighborhood of Pacific Palisades. He was impressed at the size of her house as he waited for the electronic driveway gate to swing wide and admit him.
He found Alex skating on the tennis court in the rear. "Where’s your mother?" Dane asked, cocking an eyebrow at the back of the imposing mansion.
"Inside. Getting her nails done."
Dane nodded. "You ‘bout ready to go?"
"Yup. Hey Dad, I need some new wheels for my skates."
"Sure. Later. Let’s get your stuff." Dane turned and looked for a back door, finding the house had five. "What’s the quickest way in and out of this place?" he asked his son, who was now unlacing his in-line skates.
"Don’t matter. She’ll catch us."
"Hmm."
Hearing a door close, Dane looked up to see a young girl standing on the back porch, staring in his direction with curiosity.
"Wow," Dane muttered, wetting his lips and stuffing his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. "That your sister?"
"Of course." Alex squinted up at him as if he had suddenly grown antennae. Dane forced his legs to propel him forward, eventually pausing a few feet from the eight-year-old girl who stared so solemnly.
"Hey Zoe," he said softly. "What’s up?"
She didn’t say a word, but her green eyes grew liquid as she focused on her father’s face. Overwhelmed with emotion, Dane reached for her just as she chose to raise her arms to him.
Her childish hug was fierce, much fiercer than it should have been for a father she had seen only four times in five years. The muffled "Daddy" that found its way into his ear caused his breath to catch in his throat.
"Hey, hey, what’s this all about?" he finally managed, setting her back on her feet and squatting down to maintain his touch. "God, you’re beautiful," he murmured.
"Nothing," she said, breaking free to wipe a tear from her cheek. "I’m fine."
Dane nodded. "Good." Clearing his throat, he took the liberty of stroking the girl’s brown hair back. "You’re really growing up, you know that?"
"Are you taking Alex away?"
"Yes."
"Can you take me away?"
Dane was careful to at least partially mask the surprise he felt at her query. Cupping her warm cheeks in his hands, he kissed her forehead ever so gently.
"Well, not today, sweetheart. But I can talk to Mommy if you want to come for a visit."
Obviously crestfallen, Zoe swallowed hard and turned to go back inside. Dane was dumbfounded.
In what he might have described as the parlor, Dane found his ex-wife paying the departing manicurist, painstakingly holding her wet nails away from the cash.
"Oh. Hello, Dane. Alex has stacked his crap in the foyer."
"
We need to talk, Rita."
"Sure we do." Not a thick chestnut tress out of place, Rita exemplified the "well-kept-woman". "But not now. I have to get ready for my group."
Her group. He didn’t even want to ask. "It’s about Zoe."
"She’s going through a very difficult time right now. I’d appreciate it if you don’t encourage her. She’s enough trouble as it is."
"Trouble? That sweet little girl out there? What the hell is going on here?" Dane had kept his temper in check long enough. "What, she wants a little maternal attention?"
Rita spun quickly from where she was delicately tucking her wallet into her purse.
"Watch your step, Mr. Pierce. If you want to talk about parental attention, you’d better take a hard look at your own track record."
"My track record? What about yours? You stole those girls from me. You brought another man into their lives. Now you’ve ditched him like you did me, and it looks like our kids are caught in the cross-fire."
"That’s none of your business. Fred was… a mistake. As were you. And I don’t intend to make any more mistakes, so if you’ll kindly just butt out…"
Dane’s eyes narrowed and he took an aggressive step in Rita’s direction. "If you think for a moment I will turn my back on my daughter you are a crazier bitch than I thought. Granted, I can’t do anything about it at this moment, but you will see my happy face here again and in short order. I may be almost a stranger, but that little girl out there deserves at least one parent who gives a--"
"Save it." Rita held up her hand defiantly. "Get your lying ass out of my house, and when you get back to that flea trap you call home you’d better give your attorney a call."
Dane took a deep breath, expanding his chest as he stared hard at the woman he’d taken to the altar at eighteen. Where had that sweet-hearted girl gone?
"Don’t worry. It will be my first call."
~ * ~
"You sure told her," Alex said, beaming at his father from the passenger seat as Dane tore through Malibu Canyon.
"She hasn’t heard the last of it," Dane muttered, downshifting and slamming the Porsche’s accelerator to the floor.
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