She absently stroked him while she tried to get lost in some reality drama that held no interest for her. Janice had a point. Was she really missing out on so much by not having television and the internet? Peyton had never felt so alone, while Janice had a daughter and other people to fill her days.
The phone rang and she grabbed it without looking at the display. Whoever was calling was better than sitting here moping. “Hey?”
“Hey.”
Her grip on the phone tightened. Marco. The silence lay like lead between them. “Marco?”
“Hey, how are you?”
“Okay, is everything all right?”
“Yeah. I just wanted to see how you were.”
Peyton couldn’t speak. She wanted to tell him how lonely she was, how badly she missed him, how his jersey no longer smelled like him, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t give him that much satisfaction. “I’m fine. Busy.”
“Yeah?”
What did she say? How did she prolong this call without looking desperate? Weak? “I had dinner with Cho and Maria the other night.”
“Oh.”
“They’re getting married.” She was reaching and she knew it. She didn’t really want to talk about Cho and Maria, not with him, but it was the only thing that came to mind. Probably the worst thing she could have said, reminding him that at one time they’d planned to marry.
“Really? Cho didn’t say anything.”
“Really? He wants you to stand up with him. I mean, Simons is his best man, but he wants you to be there too.”
“Wow. Uh, no, he didn’t say anything.”
More awkward silence. She gripped the phone with both hands and closed her eyes, wishing the ease they once shared was still there. Now they were reduced to talking about other people, avoiding anything meaningful. “Maria asked me to be a bridesmaid. Abe’s helping her plan the wedding. You don’t think they’re going to dress me in bows, do you? Pink bows?”
Marco laughed. God, she missed that sound. Even when he’d been angriest at her, she could make him laugh. “I don’t know. It’s Abe. He was wearing hot air balloon pants the other day.”
Peyton smiled. Abe was something they both shared, someone they both care about, someone who connected them. “Now that I would’ve liked to see. This wedding’s in two months.”
“Really? They sure aren’t waiting.”
“No.”
They both fell silent. When had this happened to them? They used to spend whole days together. Sometimes in silence, but it hadn’t felt like this, weighty, full of portent.
“Who’s Mike?”
Peyton went still, uncertain she’d heard him right. “What?”
“Who’s Mike, Peyton?”
Peyton stared at the television screen. A sick feeling caught her low in the gut. “What the hell did Abe tell you?”
“Not much. Who is he?”
“He’s none of your business.”
“Are you seeing him?”
He might as well have slapped her. What the hell did he think about her? That she was some whore looking for the next guy to warm her bed? “What?”
“This Mike. Are you dating?”
Rage and panic moved through her. Was he dating? Was that why he was asking? Had he already turned to someone else? “That’s none of your business.”
“How isn’t it?”
She rose to her feet, startling Pickles. “You left me, Marco. You walked out on me.”
“I didn’t have a choice. I left to get well.”
“You left.” She started pacing between the couch and the coffee table, unable to believe he was saying this. Hurt bubbled up, made thinking difficult. “You left.” She wanted to say something more, something clever, but this is all that would come to her.
“Peyton, I just thought…”
“You thought what? That I’d wait forever. That I’d just sit on a shelf hoping you realized you loved me.” The words tore out of her. She didn’t have control over them anymore. They were speaking without her knowing what she was going to say.
“I do love you.”
“Funny way you have of showing it, bucko. What was the real reason, Marco?”
“What?”
“The reason you left. Was it too real? Did you feel suffocated because we had something special?” She knew she was breathing hard, almost sobbing and she so didn’t want to cry, she didn’t want him to get the satisfaction of hearing her fall apart.
“It wasn’t any of that, Peyton and you know it.”
“Then what was it? What was so terrible that you couldn’t let me work through it with you?”
“I wanted you to quit your job!”
Peyton stopped pacing, shocked.
“I wanted you to quit and I wanted you to stay home where I knew you were safe.”
She didn’t respond, she couldn’t. This was all about the job. This hurt, this loneliness, this devastation was about her stupid damn job.
“Peyton?”
Still she couldn’t answer.
“Peyton, please.”
“I thought we were equals.” The words slipped out beyond the tightness in her chest. It hurt her to say them. She’d always thought that. She’d always thought he was one of the few men who believed they were equal, who believed she was as capable as he was.
“We are.”
“Are we? How so? You know firsthand what sort of cop I am, and yet you don’t trust me enough to be who I am.”
“It’s not that. I saw you hurt and I couldn’t stand it.”
“You always stood it before.” Her mind wasn’t processing this. Never in the eight years that they’d been partners had he treated her as if he didn’t think she was capable of protecting herself…and him if it came to it.
“It’s different now. Then I was there with you. I put myself on the line with you. I thought that if something happened…”
“What?”
He fell silent.
“Marco?”
“I thought it would happen to both of us. Like the explosion in Berkeley that time. I figured if it was our time to go, we’d go together. But now, now I’m not there. I can’t be there. In fact, I’d be a liability if I was there.” His voice trailed away. “I’m not the same man I was, Peyton, and sometimes, lately, I saw that in you.”
“What?”
“Sometimes, sweetheart, the way you looked at me wasn’t with love or lust or anything else. Sometimes you looked at me with pity.”
She sighed. Damn it, how had they gotten so confused with one another? Missed so many cues, so many things that should have been obvious to the both of them? “Marco, I never pitied you. What you saw was frustration, worry, pain that I couldn’t do more to help you. What you saw was a woman who felt afraid for her man.”
He didn’t respond.
“Where does this leave us?” she asked. She feared asking, but she knew she couldn’t go on like this, longing, wanting him back, needing him the way she did. Either they had to try, or she had to let him go. She couldn’t stay in this limbo.
“I don’t know.” Her heart caught. She wanted him to say they’d try, they’d make it work somehow, but that’s not what he was saying. Then he made it worse.
“I sure as hell know I don’t want you seeing other people.”
“Marco.”
“No, Peyton, listen to me. Whoever this guy is, it’s just wrong. It’s too soon. I know you hate being alone, but come on, sweetheart, it’s only been a few weeks and…”
Anger sparked again. She clenched her jaw until it ached. “You think I’d jump into bed with someone new just so I wouldn’t be alone.”
“Peyton…”
“No, now you listen to me, buster. I’m not some two-bit whore sniffing around for my next score…”
“I didn’t say…”
“But if I did decide I was going to move on, that would be my business and my business alone.”
“Peyton…”
“Because what I can’
t forget, what I’ll never forget, is that you walked out on me, Marco. Not the other way around. I never left you. I never gave up on you, but you gave up on me!” She sucked in a wild breath to stop the sobs, then held the phone away from her face and shouted into it, “Good bye!”
Tossing it on the couch, she glared at it. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to happen. She didn’t know if she wanted him to call back, or go straight to hell where he belonged. Then the sobs came, wrenching up inside of her. She fought them, but it was impossible to stop it.
She sank to the floor, putting her back to the couch, tenting her knees and covering her face with her hands. Pickles jumped down and crawled into her lap and she cradled him, burying her face in his fur and giving way to an ugly sobbing session.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, eventually the torrent passed, but she continued to sit, her face pressed to Pickles’ fur. The drone of the television filled her aching head with meaningless sound.
When her phone rang, she reached over the arm of the couch and located it, thumbing it on. She pressed it to her ear, expecting Marco, uncertain what she would say to him now.
“Peyton?”
Mike. Shit. Just what she didn’t need now.
“Yeah.” Her voice came out rough, husky from tears.
“Peyton, are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. What do you want, Mike?”
He hesitated. “Uh, I just wanted to apologize for the other day. I’m sorry I overstepped my boundaries.”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“Peyton, you sure you’re all right? You sound funny.”
She sighed and stroked Pickles’ damp fur. “I’m fine.” She clenched her teeth and pushed back her hair. “Look, Mike, how ‘bout we meet for pizza Friday night? I hear Serrano’s on 21st has the best dough.”
“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great. Should I pick you up at your house?”
“I don’t know when I’ll be done with work, so let’s say I meet you there. I’ll call you that afternoon and we’ll pick a time.”
“That’s great. Hey, Peyton, thanks. Thanks for giving me another chance.”
She started to tell him they were just meeting as friends, but she decided not to. She could tell him when she called him on Friday. Right now she was just too damn tired to go around and around with him about it.
“Great. I’ll see you then.”
“See you then, and Peyton…”
“Yeah.”
“I’m here if you need to talk. Know that, okay?”
“Sure. Bye, Mike.”
“Bye, Peyton.” The line disconnected.
Peyton sat and stared at the phone in her hand. Suddenly she didn’t think this was such a good idea. She sure as shit didn’t need any more complications right now and Mike was a complication with a capital C, except she knew it would piss off Marco if it got back to him and pissing off Marco felt pretty good right now.
She looked at Pickles and gave an aggravated growl. He pricked his ears. “What the hell am I doing?” she asked the little dog.
He cocked his head.
She settled him on the ground and climbed to her feet. “What the hell am I doing?” she said loudly, holding out her arms. Of course, no one responded. “Just what I thought,” she said, then walked to her bedroom door, leaving the television blathering to an empty space.
CHAPTER 21
Thursday
Marco leaned against the table in the viewing room, watching Cho and Simons escort the huge Alfonso Delacruz into the interrogation room. After Cho and Simons started poking around, looking for him, he’d called first thing this morning and agreed to turn himself in.
Marco was trying to force himself to concentrate on the man, but he kept thinking about his fight with Peyton and wishing he could call her and smooth it over. What the hell had happened to them that they couldn’t even carry on a simple conversation without it becoming a shouting match?
Stan stepped into the room, his eyes fixed on the two way glass, watching as Cho read Delacruz his rights. He was wearing a t-shirt with a weather report in the middle of it and the word Alderran across the top, a pair of jeans, and red converse sneakers. The red converse were new.
“What’s up?” Marco asked him, crossing his arms over his chest. Stan never came into interrogation.
“Hey, Captain. I just wanted to see if I really did get our man.”
“You did. Good work. But I knew you’d do it.”
Stan beamed a smile at him. “Thanks, Captain. Hey, there’s a Star Wars convention at the Cow Palace this afternoon. I was wondering if I could check out a little early and attend it.”
Marco smiled. “Sure. You earned it. Star Wars?” He nodded at Stan’s shirt. “Dressed to impress, huh?”
“Oh, no, for that I have a Boba Fett costume. The women love it.”
Marco laughed. “I’m sure they do.”
“Well, I’ll just go finish my report for the ADA.”
“Thanks.”
As he turned to go, Devan loomed in the doorway. Stan ducked his head and scurried past him.
Devan looked over his shoulder, watching him go. “Strange little guy.”
“Brilliant little guy. He got us the damning evidence on this case.”
Devan nodded and moved into the room, leaning against the table beside Marco.
“He’s also crazy in love with Peyton.”
Devan’s brows lifted and he looked back at the door. “Man’s got taste.”
Marco chuckled and reached out, turning up the sound in the interrogation room. Cho and Simons left Delacruz where he was and came into the viewing room.
“How do you want us to play this?” asked Cho.
Marco considered a moment. “Let Simons question him. He’s got kids. Try to connect with him, find out what happened.”
Jake appeared in the doorway with a folder in his hands. “I found the murder weapon in his tool chest on his truck.” He held the folder out to Cho. “It’s a hose removal tool.”
Cho opened the folder and glanced at it, then showed it to Marco. The tool was a long round column with a wickedly pointed end.
“Usually it has a hook on the end for grabbing the hose, but he straightened this one.”
“Straightened it?”
“Yeah.” Jake nodded at the next page. “I printed a copy of what it should look like.”
“Why’d he straighten it?” asked Marco.
Jake shrugged.
“Could be the difference between premeditation or not,” said Devan.
Marco looked at Simons. “Get him to explain it.”
“On it, Captain.” He took the file from Cho, then he turned and left the room. A moment later he appeared next to Delacruz. “I’m Inspector Bill Simons, Mr. Delacruz. I want to ask you a few questions, but first, I wanna make sure you understand your rights.” He set the folder down on the table and opened it, showing him the picture of the weapon.
Delacruz’s eyes focused on it. “I want a lawyer.”
“That’s fine. We’ll get you one, but once he or she gets here, I won’t be able to talk to you anymore.”
Delacruz closed his eyes briefly, then glanced at Simons. “Look, it doesn’t matter. None of it matters.”
“What do you mean?”
“My son’s gone. What difference does any of this make?”
Simons folded his hands and rested them on his stomach. “I have kids. They mean everything to me. I can’t even imagine losing one.”
Delacruz fixated on the murder weapon. “I didn’t mean to do it.”
“Do what, Mr. Delacruz?”
“Kill the pot guy. I didn’t mean it.”
“What happened?”
Delacruz gave a humorless laugh. “My son recommended me to him, told him I was good at fixing heating and air. Pot grows in hot, humid climates, you know?”
“I know.”
“My son had been dead for a month or so when he calls me, ask
s me to fix his heater.” Delacruz rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. “I don’t know why I took the job. I shouldn’t have, but he told me Calvin recommended me.” He blinked to fight his tears. “Calvin and me, we didn’t always see eye to eye.”
“Because he was gay?”
“Right.” Delacruz fell silent, staring at the file. “I threw him out when he told me. I threw my own kid out for being gay.”
“A lot of fathers have made that mistake.”
Delacruz’s eyes snapped to Simons’ broad face. “Would you, Inspector? Would you throw your son out if he told you that?”
Simons drew a breath and held it, then he slowly let it go. “I don’t know. I want to believe I wouldn’t. I want to believe I’d be understanding, but we don’t really know how we’d react in that situation.”
Marco shifted. He knew. Nothing his child could say would ever make him turn away from him. Nothing. If you were going to have children, you loved them unconditionally, no matter what, no matter who they were. You just loved them. He drew a shaken breath. He wanted children. He’d always told himself he didn’t, but he wanted them and he wanted them with Peyton.
“What happened with Greer, Mr. Delacruz?”
“I’d been working in his shop for a couple of days.” He spat the word shop as if it were dirty. “I had the tool box open and I was taking apart the heater. I forgot something in my car, so I went back out for it.”
“What did you forget?”
Delacruz nodded at the photo Jake had taken. “That. I use it to grab the old duct tubing, so I don’t have to squeeze behind the unit.”
“That tool? It’s usually curved, isn’t it?”
“Usually.”
“Did you straighten it?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Sometimes I need it straight. I have another curved hose tool, but this one I had a buddy straighten for me in his metal shop. I was going to just jab it in the duct and pull it out.”
Mermaids in the Pacific (Peyton Brooks, FBI Book 2) Page 31