“My mother… the ring, its inscription…” Alex felt sick and got to her feet. “I have to leave. I need some air.”
“Alex, what… wait-”
She ignored his attempts to stop her and hurried from the restaurant out onto the street. Even though it was a Monday night, the square hummed with activity.
Blindly, she started to walk. Her thoughts whirled. Her mother. It was true. It couldn’t be, but it was.
It felt like losing her again. The few good memories, hopes and dreams that she had managed to cobble together, destroyed. She wanted to hate her. It would hurt so much less than this betrayal.
How could you, Mom? How could you be so low? So pathetic?
“Alex?”
She looked up, vision blurred with tears. Reed. With a woman. His partner, she recognized.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“No, I’m-” She moved into his arms and clung to him.
His arms came around and she pressed her face into his chest. She tried not to imagine her mother with those young men, concentrating instead on the steady rise and fall of Reed’s chest and how safe she felt in his arms. How reassured.
Tim called her name. He’d caught sight of her, she realized. And in that same moment, she realized how crazy she must look to Reed, his partner and anybody else strolling by.
“Alex, what’s going on? Is that man bothering you?”
“No, it’s-” She tipped her head back to look up at him. “The inscription on the ring, I figured it out, Reed. BOV means Boys of the Vine. My mother’s boys. The story’s true.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Monday, March 15
8:20 P.M.
Reed watched Alex and her ex walk away. BOV. Boys of the Vine. It fit, that was for sure.
“What the hell are you doing?”
He looked at Tanner in question.
“You’re a stand-up guy, Reed. Rock solid. And I like you. Clarkson, on the other hand, seems to be operating from a place somewhere left of center. She worries me.”
She worried him as well. On several levels. Not the least of which was the way seeing her with her ex-husband made him feel.
The ex who hadn’t acted like an ex. He’d been protective. And possessive. When he’d introduced himself, there had been a tone in his voice, a look in his eyes. That man-to-man sizing up of the competition. A challenge issued.
Reed had recognized it because he’d had the same tone, the same look. Obviously, Tanner had picked up on it.
He turned to her. “Mind if I bag on dinner? I’m going to run this BOV thing by a couple of old-timers.”
“Want company?”
“Not this time.” He started off. She stopped him by calling his name.
“Got your cell?” He indicated that he did and she patted hers, clipped to her hip. “Use it, dude.”
He did, calling ahead to make certain his dad was at home. He was. Luckily, his brother Joe was there as well. He parked behind Joe’s big-ass Benz and climbed out.
His mom had seen the headlights and met him at the door. “This is such a lovely surprise, Dan.”
He kissed her cheek. “For me, too.”
“Your dad and Joe are in the library. Talking business, as always. Have you eaten?”
“No. And yes, I’d love to stay.”
Reed made his way to the library and tapped on the partially closed door before sticking his head inside. “Am I interrupting?”
“Not at all, Son.” His father waved him in. “Have a seat.”
From Joe’s expression, Reed suspected their father had been delivering news Joe hadn’t particularly cared for.
Every once in a while, Reed compared his brothers’ lifestyles to his own and wondered if he’d screwed up. The luxury vehicles and exotic trips, grand homes and designer clothing. Then he’d get a peek at what that lifestyle really cost his brothers and be thankful for his decision. He’d rather drive his battered SUV than be his dad’s punching bag or puppet.
His dad poured him a glass of wine. “Particularly proud of this one,” he said.
“What brings you out tonight?” Joe asked stiffly, refilling his glass.
Reed kept his eyes trained on his brother. “Boys of the Vine.”
Joe seemed to freeze. “What did you say?”
“BOV. Boys of the Vine.” Reed shifted his gaze from Joe’s pale face to his father’s flushed one, then back. “Joe? You recognize the name?”
His brother looked helplessly at his father. Reed found something in his expression trapped. And horribly lost.
He and his older brother had never gotten along that well, but he found himself feeling sorry for him.
“For God’s sake, Dan!” his dad exclaimed. “This isn’t the time or place-”
“You’re right on one account, Dad. It’s past time.” He turned back to his brother. “Joe? You recognize it?”
“Yeah,” he said, voice choked. “I recognize it. Boys of the Vine. That was us.”
“Who?”
“Our posse. Me and Clark. Terry, Tom and Spanky. A couple others.”
“That’s all I wanted. Confirmation.”
“Dinner is ready,” Lyla said from the doorway.
“I’m not staying,” Joe said. “I promised Cindi I’d be back in time to help with homework.”
“But I thought-”
“Sorry, Mom. My bad.” He kissed her goodbye, then without a word to either of the other two men, left.
Lyla looked from one to the other of them. “What was that all about?”
“Don’t know, sweetheart.” Wayne rubbed his hands together. “But that means more for me.”
During dinner, his father was like another man. Not even a shadow of what had transpired seemed to cross his features. He was every inch the jovial, accommodating husband. The sympathetic father.
His father was a chameleon, Reed thought. Why hadn’t he noticed before?
His mother interrupted his thoughts. “Have you made any progress on finding Tom’s killer? I saw Jill the other day, poor thing looked devastated.”
“The investigation’s ongoing, Mom. But I’m glad you brought that up.” He laid down his fork. “The night Tom died he made four calls in the seventeen minutes before his murder. One of them was to up here, to Red Crest.”
His mother looked stunned. “My God, how awful.”
“Did you happen to take that call?”
“No,” she said, then turned to her husband. “Wayne, did you?”
He shook his head. “No, baby.”
“He connected with somebody. The call lasted two and a half minutes.”
His dad looked at him. “Maybe one of the staff answered?” he offered.
Something in his expression set Reed’s hair on edge. What was he hiding? “Maybe. Why do you think he called up here?”
“Probably hoping to find a ride.”
What he had thought. Until tonight.
His mother made a sound of distress. “If only I had answered, he might be alive today.”
“I’ll talk to the staff, see if one of them spoke to him,” his father said.
“And I’ll call the caterers,” she added. “You never know.”
You never did know, Reed thought a short time later as he and his dad walked to his Tahoe. He’d found his father’s behavior tonight troubling. The chameleonlike quality, his evasiveness. Even Joe’s unease and quick departure.
“I didn’t appreciate that, Dan.”
“What’s that?”
His dad lit a cigar, then met Reed’s gaze through a haze of smoke. “Coming up here, confronting your brother that way. Then questioning me and your mother.”
“Too bad. Besides, Mom brought up Tom’s murder.”
“You will not disrespect me that way.”
Reed stopped, turned fully toward his father. “Until tonight, I didn’t realize how good you are at hiding the truth, Dad. You really have kept Mom in the dark about everything, haven’t you?”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“Do you manipulate everyone? Your wife and kids? Business associates? Friends? Where does it stop?”
“You calling me a liar, Son?”
“You tell me, Dad. Are you?”
“Get the hell off my property. Nobody calls me a liar. Especially not one of my own children.”
They reached the SUV. Reed unlocked his car door, then swung to face his father. “The night Dylan Sommer disappeared, you and Mom were having dinner with Patsy and Harlan.”
He looked startled by the change in subject. “Yes.”
“Where?”
“Here.”
“You’re certain about that?”
“Yes, dammit. I was sure of it then, I’m sure of it now.”
So why, Reed wondered, did he think he was lying? “And Patsy, when did she do her Boys of the Vine thing?”
“When?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Joe didn’t tell you?”
“It didn’t seem that important. After they got out of school, I suppose. When we were all at work.”
“Where’d they meet?”
“I don’t know-Why does it matter?”
“How often?”
“Often enough to steal our boys’ innocence!”
“Has it occurred to you that Dylan might have been stolen by one of the boys? One who was jealous? Or the family of one of the minors. Or Harlan himself.”
“That’s ridiculous. They were just boys.”
“You took that call from Tom, didn’t you, Dad?”
“The hell I did. I already told you-”
“And the Boys of the Vine thing, if it’s not an outright lie, there’s more to it. What aren’t you telling me?”
“Go. Get off my property.” His voice shook. “You’re not welcome back until you’re ready to apologize.”
Reed opened the car door and slid behind the wheel, then looked back at his dad. “By the way, Pop, I choose my own relationships. Don’t warn a woman away from me again.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Tuesday, March 16
2:30 A.M.
Alex opened her eyes to find Tim standing by the bed, staring down at her. A chill raced up her spine.
“Tim? What’re you doing?”
“Watching you.”
She looked past him, saw one of her kitchen chairs. “Have you been here all night?”
“It’s not morning yet.”
She glanced at the bedside clock and saw that it was still the wee hours of the night. “You need to go get some sleep.”
He looked away, then back, expression rueful. “I’m still in love with you, Alex.”
“Tim, this isn’t the time for-”
“It’s not about sex. It’s not. Once upon a time, maybe. I’m stupid, I admit it.”
He let out a strangled-sounding breath. “When you called me, I felt this incredible relief. I’d thought I’d lost you. Then tonight, when I saw you holding that other man, I felt… everything a man in that situation could. Jealousy and rage. Regret. Longing. Hatred.”
She sat up, bringing the blanket up with her. “This is making me really uncomfortable.”
“I don’t mean to make you feel that way. I’m just-” He knelt beside the bed and gathered her hand in his, brought it to his lips. “I’ve missed you so much.”
She wanted to argue with him. Wanted to remind him of all the reasons why they hadn’t made it as a couple. She sensed she had better keep her thoughts to herself and swallowed hard.
He turned her hand over and kissed her palm. “Sitting here, watching over you last night, I realized something. This is what I’m supposed to be doing. Where I’m supposed to be. Watching over you, Alex.”
She’d never seen him quite this way. The note of urgency and desperation in his voice was a surprise. It was unsettling. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Right now, don’t say anything. I’m promising you, I’m here for you. Whatever happens. Whatever you need. You’re not crazy, Alex. We’ll get to the bottom of all this. We’ll do it together.”
“You’re exhausted,” she said softly. “You need sleep. And so do I. Let’s pick this up in the morning? Okay?”
“Sure, babe.” He bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be on the couch.” He crossed to the door, then stopped and looked back at her. “I really do love you.”
“I love you, too.”
But as she scooted back under the covers, she acknowledged that there were many kinds of love. And the kind she had for Tim was more complicated than most.
The next morning, she awakened to the smell of coffee. And something baking. Cookies? Muffins?
Cinnamon rolls, she learned minutes later as she entered the kitchen, teeth and hair brushed, dressed in a pair of faded old jeans and a Cal State sweatshirt. Tim had just taken the pastries from the oven and was slathering icing on them.
He caught sight of her and smiled. “Morning.”
She crossed to the coffeepot and poured herself a mug. “How long have you been up?”
“Long enough to run up to the corner market for the paper, some cream and a roll of the Pillsbury Doughboy’s finest. Have a seat. I’ll bring you one.”
“Thanks.” She sat at the table and curved her hands around the warm mug and sipped.
“There you go.” He set a plate in front of her, then went back for his. A moment later, he sat across from her and dug in.
She watched him eat a moment, then shook her head. “What’s going on, Tim?”
“Nothing. Why?” He took a huge forkful of the warm roll.
“You’re not a morning person.”
“This morning I am.” He got to his feet, refilled his cup, then returned to the table. “I’ve got to head back today. I’ve got a faculty meeting this morning.”
Tim was leaving? The realization shouldn’t have shaken her, but it did. “Do you have to?”
“It’s a command performance.”
“I don’t know what I’ll do.”
He grinned. “That’s what I like to hear.”
She meant it. What would she do? There was no need to ask any more questions about the past or her mother-she knew more now than she wanted to.
Boys of the Vine.
She wished she could go back. Wished she had left all this alone. Stayed in San Francisco, clinging to the photograph of her mother and Dylan and her foolish belief that her mother had been as much of a victim as Dylan had been.
“I know what you need.” She cocked an eyebrow and he laughed. “No, I didn’t mean that, though you probably do need it. A spa day.”
She burst out laughing. “Right. A spa day.”
“The Kenwood Inn and Spa is just down Sonoma Highway. My first wife adored the place. We spent one Valentine’s Day weekend there.”
“I can’t afford that.”
“I’ll pay.”
“I can’t accept that.”
“Too bad, it’s already done.”
“What do you mean, already done?”
“Just what it sounds like. I booked you a spa day. It’s paid for in full. Consider it a birthday gift.”
A birthday… and then she remembered, tomorrow was her birthday. With everything that had been happening, she’d forgotten. “I can’t believe you. When did you do this?”
“Last night. While you were in the ladies’ room at the girl & the fig.”
“Sneaky. Very.”
He stood and crossed to her. He laid his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll know you’re safe. That’s really important to me. Then I’ll be back tonight. We’ll figure this out.”
She searched his gaze. The truth was, having him to turn to and lean on had been a relief. He knew her. He understood how to support without smothering. She trusted him completely.
And he didn’t think she was crazy.
Maybe that was the biggest relief of all.
She would hold tightly to that, because the way things had been going, that could change in the blink of an eye.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Tuesday, March 16
3:40 P.M.
Alex reclined on a chaise in the spa lounging area. Bundled up in a thick terry cloth robe, she’d been warmed, wrapped and rubbed, exfoliated, hydrated and perfumed. Soothing new age music mingled with the tinkle of water fountains and she drifted, ridiculously relaxed, the events listed on her legal pad pushed to a far back corner of her brain.
Her thoughts lit on Tim’s middle of the night profession of love. She knew Tim. Understood him. He didn’t mean it. Not in a forever kind of way. Not an I-want-to-be-faithful-to-one-woman-until-we’re-old-and-gray kind of way.
He was a little like Peter Pan, refusing to really grow up. And that was okay. It just wasn’t what she needed.
And just like the child who only wanted to play, he didn’t want to share, either. And he had seen her with Reed.
Reed. His image filled her head. She allowed herself to linger on it a moment. Linger on the memory of his arms around her. And the way they had made her feel.
She pushed both away. She wasn’t ready to think about Reed or what her feelings for him might be. How could she? He half believed she was responsible for all the craziness going on.
Of course, she half believed it, too.
Deep in her robe’s pocket, her cell phone vibrated. She’d tucked it there, though having it with her was against spa policy.
Except for the attendant who came and went, she was alone in the lounge. Alex dug the device out of her pocket. It was Tim, she saw.
“ ’Lo,” she answered, voice thick with relaxation.
“Alex? Is that you?”
“You can’t call me here. Any minute Helga’s going to pop back in and bust me.”
“I really thought I’d get your voice mail.”
“I sneaked the phone in.” His voice sounded strange. “Where are you?”
“On the road. Look, Alex, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Shoot.” She reached for her glass of wine. “Better hurry, though. I think I hear Helga.”
Blood Vines Page 27