by Lee, Rachel
“True.”
“Anyway it was ugly. He said horrible things about Jeff— and I don’t mind telling you, I get a motherly reaction to that. I seem to remember wanting to go for his jugular in Jeff’s defense.”
“Understandable.”
“Well, I said some pretty unforgivable things myself. That thing about knowing which buttons to push? It’s a two-way street.”
There was a sudden twinkle in his eyes, and she was amazed to feel herself responding to it, as if the ugliness she was remembering was so long past it wasn’t worth wasting anything but amusement on.
“Seeing as how you’re a psychologist,” he said, “I imagine you were better at pushing his buttons than he was at pushing yours.”
She almost laughed, but was too embarrassed to let it out. He was right. “Let’s just say we were both pretty bruised and bloody by the time we got thrown out of the bar.”
“Some fight, huh?”
“Verbally, yes. I guess I gave tit for tat. Which I’m not proud of. Anyway, that was the end. Right there and then.”
“Probably for the best.”
“Oh, it was. I suppose I could have been more understanding about his problems with Jeff, but after all the counseling I’d done, my warning bells were clanging big-time.”
“How so?”
“If a man wants to cut you off from family and friends, he’s trouble. Maybe I was overreacting a little—I mean, his main problem seemed to be Jeff—but my entire family is Jeff.”
He nodded. “You were right. He was wrong. Period.”
The waiter appeared with their dinners: conch fritters, stuffed crab, fried shrimp, fried scallops, and the fingers of the fish of the day, mahimahi. Delicious aromas rose from the plate, and Callie felt her appetite kick in for the first time since early that morning. The only downside was the way she felt when Chase drew back his hand. His touch had been wonderfully comforting.
It was time, she decided, to change the subject. “So you drove all the way to Miami to read the diver’s report? Didn’t someone give you the details already? I’d think that would be the first thing you wanted to know after your accident.”
“It was. And they gave me the details. Mainly, I wanted to read the report in Bill’s words to see if it jogged my memory at all. Instead, all I got was the sanitized final report. My friend at Maritime told me I’d have to get a lawyer to get the original report out of the legal office because they’re afraid I’m going to sue them.”
“Would you?”
He shook his head. “With rare exceptions, any accident on a dive is the diver’s fault. If they’d found something in my air tanks instead of the proper mixture, that would have been one thing. And I wouldn’t have sued the company anyway, I’d have gone after the guy who filled my tanks. What else could the insurance company be responsible for? My mistake, whatever it was?”
She liked his attitude. “So you’re really sure you did something wrong?”
“It had to have been me. I just wish I could figure out what I did. Diving was something I was always very careful about. It’s not a place to take chances or cut corners, and especially not when you’re going that deep.”
She nodded, watching as he speared a scallop with his fork. “That undermines your confidence, doesn’t it?”
He looked at her, a faint smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “Analyzing me?”
“No, just wondering. It would undermine my confidence.”
“Of course it does. So does the feeling that there’s something in the darkness just waiting to pounce on me. That’s nothing but a nightmare, but I can’t convince myself of that.”
She hesitated. “Well… there’s the turtlegrass on your porch.”
He shook his head. “Like I said, that’s juvenile. Maybe one of the kids up the road did it.”
“I don’t know if I could ignore it that easily if it were on my porch.” No, she’d probably feel really uncomfortable, wondering who wanted to bother her and why.
“I didn’t say I was going to ignore it. I just don’t think it adds up to a real threat.” What he didn’t tell her was the niggling doubt he’d started having last night that maybe he’d done it himself in some kind of fugue or split-personality thing. That worried him far more than the possibility that some kid up the road was having fun at his expense.
He couldn’t imagine why anyone would do such a thing, but there was no explaining kids. Unless… He suddenly wondered if the seaweed was directed at Jeff and had just wound up on his porch by mistake. With all the news coverage of Jeff being arrested for the murders of a couple of well-liked charter-boat operators, it was entirely possible someone was trying to scare him.
Maybe some jerk was trying to create the impression of a dead man coming up from the water, to scare Jeff and Callie.
At the thought, his stomach twisted, and anger began to burn in him. He could blow it off if someone was trying to mess with him, but if they were trying to hurt Callie and Jeff, there was going to be hell to pay.
CHAPTER 10
After dinner, they walked along Duval Street, peeking into shops. When Callie’s hand brushed Chase’s, he thought, What the hell, and clasped it. She didn’t pull away. Instead, her fingers curled around his.
They were, he thought, like flotsam being tossed in the waves of an uncertain sea, and for the moment they were clinging to one another, until the next wave came along and sent them on a new course. It was just nice, for now, to have the contact with another soul.
But the thoughts he’d been determined to avoid seemed to be equally determined to come to mind as they walked around Old Town, listening to music pouring out of the open doors of bars and clubs, and the cacophony of voices, accents, and languages in the swirling crowds.
He had enough problems of his own, he told himself. Lest he forget, his back and hip stabbed him regularly with fiery pain, and once he avoided turning down a street because it looked too dark. Still, he found himself worrying about Cal-lie and Jeff.
They had no one but each other, and both of them desperately needed someone to lean on right now. Jeff seemed to be leaning on Callie, but she had no one to turn to. Her role as mother to Jeff made it all but impossible to lean on him— and Chase wasn’t sure Jeff could have handled it anyway. Not because he thought the boy was particularly weak—although he was typically heedless for his age—but because Jeff was facing a situation so overwhelming that it was unlikely he had anything to offer anyone else right now.
Sometimes, Chase thought, problems could be sufficiently overwhelming to justify utter selfishness, and facing a murder charge certainly fell into that category.
By comparison, his own problems were piddling. What did he have to worry about, after all, except some pain, some disappointment, and an irrational fear of the dark?
Pain he could live with. Day by day he was coming to terms with a future that involved hurting every minute of every day. His fear of the dark—well, as bad as it sometimes was, he could learn to live with that, too.
He had a sudden memory of himself, only a few days ago, sitting at the table with the Beretta and thinking about suicide, and he felt such a wave of self-revulsion that he almost pulled his hand away from Callie’s, for fear of sullying her.
Christ, what a weakling he’d become! He hated self-pity, and lately he seemed to be drowning in it. He needed to get his head out of his fucking ass.
Sitting around in magnificent isolation with a pistol and a bottle of whiskey might make a great artistic image for a three-minute song, but as a way of life it sucked, and it was inexcusable. Shame over his own behavior made him want to find a hole to crawl into.
Except holes were dark. The unexpected humorous twist of his own thoughts made him laugh out loud. Callie looked up at him questioningly.
“Don’t mind me,” he said. “I just realized I’m a grade-A jerk.”
“Why?”
“Nothing important. A breath of fresh air just blew through my head. Ab
out damn time. Want to stop and get a drink somewhere?”
“Sure.”
They entered a place that was open onto the street, little more than wide double doors fronting a long curved bar. Callie ordered iced tea, and Chase asked for club soda with a twist of lime. Reggae was playing over the speakers, and everyone was talking loudly and laughing.
Chase spoke, and Callie had to lean over to hear him.
“We could plan a crime here, and nobody would hear us,” he said.
She laughed. “I was thinking practically the same thing.” But the reggae beat was infectious and she found her foot tapping in time. Cold air blasted downward from the air conditioners, but the crowd was so dense it battered uselessly on the tops of their heads.
Somebody bumped into Callie’s back, shoving her hard up against Chase. His arm came out immediately to steady her, holding her close to him.
Time stood still. Callie had always hated that cliché, but that’s exactly what she felt as her entire length was pressed to Chase’s hard muscularity. She had never thought of herself as a carnal person, but in that instant she discovered she could be weakened by desire.
She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe. Everything else in the world faded away until all she was aware of was the man who held her and an almost unbearable yearning for him to hold her even closer. A longing unlike any she had ever felt before filled her, leaving her feeling heavy, soft, weak, and needy. God, she had never ached like this before!
The suspense was nearly as unbearable as the need, filling her with fear that he would let go of her and longing to be held closer still. The tension reached every cell in her body, imprisoning her in the moment.
Slowly, slowly, she tilted her head until she looked up at him, and the heat and awareness she saw in his gaze suddenly filled her with panic. No!
The word was like a thunderclap in her head, and she stepped swiftly back, not caring that she bumped hard into someone else.
“Are you okay?” Chase asked swiftly. Was it her imagination, or did his voice sound thick?
“I’m… I’m claustrophobic.”
“Then let’s get out of here.” He used his body like the prow of a ship, cutting a path for her through the waves of the crowd. Moments later they were out on the street again, where the balmy night air was far easier to breathe.
He reached for her hand, but she yanked it back. It was almost as if her skin felt raw, and she couldn’t bear a touch right now.
“It was close in there,” he said, not commenting on how she had pulled back from him.
“It was awful.” A lie, but convenient. She despised herself for not being able just to be honest about it, to tell him that something was wrong with her, and that if he was at all interested in her, he’d better just run now, because she absolutely panicked when he got that close.
But she was surprised by the force of her own reaction to the closeness, and as they wandered along Duval Street, she found herself pondering it. It was, she thought, an overreaction to something that happened between men and women all the time. It wasn’t as if he had threatened her in some way.
But she had felt threatened, and for the first time she found herself considering the possibility that she had a hangup about men, something that went far beyond simple reluctance to get involved again because she had had a relationship fail badly.
It was, she realized, something deeper. An unwillingness to trust anyone to come that close. As if some kind of betrayal were the inevitable outcome of caring.
The thought jolted her. Maybe she had been spending too much time trying to sort out other people’s problems, and had been too busy to realize just how mixed up her own head was getting. Because something in her was certainly mixed up.
And now she had the worst urge to get home, to find a quiet corner where she could be alone to think about just where she was messed up.
“It’s almost midnight,” she said. “I need to get home.”
They found their way back to the car, and drove the twenty-five miles home in silence.
Jeff was waiting for them when they pulled into the Carlsons’ driveway. He stood on the edge of the veranda and waved, looking entirely too happy for Callie’s peace of mind.
“You don’t have to get out,” she said swiftly to Chase. “Thanks for a great evening.”
His face was shadowed, but she could tell he was looking at her. She felt a pang when she realized she was sending him back to his empty house and the darkness that troubled him so much. She hesitated, then said, “Unless you’d like to come in?”
He didn’t move, and for a moment he didn’t speak. “Which would you prefer?” he asked finally.
“I…” She trailed off, uncertain herself.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked.
“No. Really.”
“Then why have I been getting the deep freeze ever since we stopped for a drink?”
“Look, I don’t want to get into this now. It’s late.”
“I have a feeling that with you it’s always too late.”
“That’s not fair.” And she was getting angrier than she ought to because she was on the defensive. Being a psychologist had disadvantages, she thought sourly, the primary one being that she knew exactly what games she was playing. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m… having a problem with myself. It really doesn’t have anything at all to do with you.”
She wished she could read his face, but it was too dark. Jeff was coming down from the veranda toward them, and time for private conversation was drawing to a close.
“Come in,” she said, almost desperately, realizing that she needed to make amends for a lot of reasons. “Come in for a few minutes. We need to discuss what we’re going to do tomorrow anyway.”
Silence. Then, “All right.”
They climbed out of the car. Jeff had turned the porch lights on, and puddles of golden light held the night at bay. Callie was surprised to realize she was noting such things out of concern for Chase. Never before had she paid any mind to the darkness, but tonight she did. Glancing up at him, she searched his face for signs of strain or tension, but saw nothing.
“Hey, sis. Hey, Chase.” Jeff stood grinning at them, his hands in the pockets of his shorts. He lifted onto his toes, then rolled back onto his heels.
“I guess you had a good time tonight,” Callie said, returning his smile.
“Oh, yeah. I met a girl.”
Callie’s heart plummeted as fast as an elevator with a broken cable. “A girl?”
“She’s really neat, Callie.” Jeff was simply beaming.
“Great.” Her enthusiasm was weak, but her brother didn’t seem to notice as they climbed the porch steps and went indoors.
“I knew her in high school,” Jeff said, as they gathered at the kitchen table. “Her family moved up to Tavernier, but she came back here last month to take a job.”
“Really.” Callie looked at Chase, wondering if he felt this was as potentially bad as she did. Then she wondered why it should even matter what he thought. “So she knows who you are?”
“Sure.” Jeff looked at her, his brow creasing. “Didn’t I just say so?”
“That’s right. You did.” Callie felt the limpness of her own smile. She didn’t want to do this, but she couldn’t stand by and watch a disaster in the making. “Does she know about…”
“About the murder charges? Yeah, she does. And she doesn’t care. When I told her I didn’t do it, she believed me.”
Worse and worse, Callie thought, her stomach sinking to join her heart. But Jeff was giving her a wounded look and she didn’t want to say any more. There was a limit to what she could do to protect him, much as she hated to admit it. “Neat,” she said.
But the smile was gone from Jeff’s face. “I thought you’d be happy for me,” he said. He rose from his chair and walked out of the house.
“Damn it, damn it, damn it,” Callie said tightly when she heard the front door slam behind him. “Damn it, I al
ways say the wrong thing.”
“Maybe you try to micromanage,” Chase said. “Maybe you just need to let him take his knocks.”
This time she didn’t flare at him. “Am I crazy?”
“About what?”
“About this girl. What kind of girl wants to date a guy who’s just been charged with two murders?”
He nodded. “I agree, it doesn’t sound good. But you’re not going to convince Jeff of that. She said she believes he’s innocent. He needs that desperately, Callie. And maybe, just maybe, this girl is naive and nice. Maybe it’s not that she’s just scum who doesn’t care about these things.”
“Maybe.” She sighed. “Maybe. You’re right. But how can I get enthusiastic? Even if she is a perfectly nice girl, this is hardly the time for him to get involved.”
“This is exactly the time. He needs something hopeful, Callie. He needs someone besides the two of us to believe in him. He’s growing up hard and fast right now, and he needs the support. It’ll also do him some good to have somebody else to worry about.”
“You’re right.” She gave a sad laugh. “I’m the psychologist, but you see it all so much more clearly. I’m falling down on the job here.”
“The thing is,” he said kindly, “this isn’t your job. This is your life. It’s easy for me to be objective.”
“Right again.” She sighed and looked toward the front of the house. “I guess I should go find him.”
He shook his head. “He’ll figure out that you’re just afraid he’ll get hurt. But let him figure it out himself, Callie.”
“Are you trying to tell me I’m smothering him?”
A crooked smile appeared on his face. “I’m saying you probably don’t need to worry nearly as much as you do.”
“You’re probably right. I’m thirsty. Would you like something?”
“Ice water, thanks.”
She got two large glasses of ice water and rejoined him at the table. “I’m sorry about tonight,” she said. “I didn’t mean to give you the freeze.”