She wiped her mouth on the hankie and then looked at it. It was bright red, all right. She tried to hide that part when she handed it back to him.
“That’s okay. I can wash it.”
Whitney didn’t want to tell him that she thought lipstick stained. That’s what her mom told her last time she got some on something.
“See, I’m not like most grown-ups.”
“How come?”
“ ’Cause I like kid stuff more,” he said.
Whitney frowned. If he could stay a kid, maybe she could too. “What kind of kid stuff?”
The man looked both ways and then pulled a plastic bag from his pocket. “How about this?”
Whitney peered at the little plastic bag. “What’s that?”
“Candy.”
She looked a little closer.
“What kind?”
He smiled. “Cherry.”
“All cherry?”
He nodded.
“How come?”
“ ’Cause cherry’s my favorite.”
Whitney licked her lips. She wasn’t allowed to have candy. Only at Halloween and Easter, and sometimes when she found the candy her mom hid. She didn’t know that Whitney knew about it.
“Do you like cherry, too?”
She nodded.
He handed her the bag. “Why don’t you take it?”
She started to reach out and stopped herself. “All of it?”
He put it in her hand. “Sure. I’ve got lots more.”
Whitney pulled the sack toward her. There had to be like a hundred pieces of candy. She even saw some jellybeans.
“Do you have a favorite kind of candy?”
She nodded.
“What is it?”
“Jellybeans and taffy,” she said quickly.
“I think there’s some jellybeans in there, but I’ll bring taffy next time.”
She nodded.
“Whitney,” her mother called again.
“You’d better go inside.”
She nodded and turned away. Then she remembered her manners. “Thank you for the candy, mister.”
“You’re welcome, Whitney.”
She started to leave, then said, “What’s your name, anyway?”
He gave her a big smile and reached for her hand.
Whitney gave it to him, but instead of shaking it, he lifted it to his lips and kissed it just like a prince. She giggled, even though she knew that wasn’t what she was supposed to do.
“My name is Gerry,” he said. “I hope to see you again soon, Princess Cherry.”
“Princess Cherry?” she asked.
He nodded, smiling. “ ’Cause you get all the cherry candy.” He paused. “If you want it.”
She nodded.
“Very nice to meet you,” he said.
“You too.”
“Now, you’d better get inside before your mom catches you.”
She pulled the candy to her chest and turned around.
“And hide that candy. That’s our secret, okay?”
“Okay, Mr. Gerry.” Whitney waved and ran up the stairs toward the house. Stopping along the path, she tucked the candy under the small bush with the mirror and the lipstick, then ran around and up the back steps.
Mr. Gerry was the neatest dult she’d ever met. She hoped he came back with more candy soon.
Chapter Twenty-five
Sam drove to Martinez and followed the directions to the auto shop where her car was being worked on. It was just after four and the mechanic was almost off duty, so she did her best to hurry. Traffic on 680 was packed, and Sam wondered how people lived this far out and commuted to the city. Martinez was flat and industrial, and she was glad that she didn’t need to visit often. The police station and Hall of Justice were the city’s proudest buildings—the only ones with a solid chance of surviving against the city’s vandals.
Sam found the street, took a right, and turned into the driveway where she saw three black-and-whites parked. Good business, fixing cop cars. Contra Costa County had spent three million dollars on new cops and cars just last year, and at least they were keeping the cars in good shape. She glanced up at the name on the mechanic’s sign: Epifani Brothers Auto Body. The Epifani brothers were doing well. It probably helped to have some friends in law enforcement.
Sam stepped out of the car and met a man with graying at the temples and a thick mustache as he came out of the entrance.
“Agent Chase?”
She nodded. “Ken?”
“That’s me. I was hoping it’d be you. I was getting ready to close up.” He waved her in. “The Caprice is out back.”
“Have you had a chance to look at it yet?”
“Oh, yeah. The front’s all banged out and the lights are replaced. I’m waiting for the right color paint to finish it. I can have it done by tomorrow. I’ve got a pickup in Walnut Creek, if you want my guy to drop it at your house.”
She shook her head. “I’ve got someone to drive it back to the city for me.” She wasn’t eager to drive the car again. It could sit in the garage at the D.O.J. for a few weeks. “You look at the brakes?”
Ken whistled long and low and nodded. “That’s some fancy handiwork.”
Sam ignored the tight sensation in her throat and said, “So someone cut the brakes?”
“It’s not nearly that easy in these new cars. But someone definitely got to ’em. Come back here and I’ll show you how it works.”
Understand it. Working through a problem had always been Sam’s response to fear. But these days it crept up her neck and gripped her back and shoulders despite her attempts to shake it off. Someone wanted her dead.
Pushing the thought aside, she followed Ken into the garage and to the back, where the Caprice was parked. He lifted the hood and locked it open. Then he walked away. Less than thirty seconds later, he came back carrying two flat wood crates with wheels. He sat on one and pushed the other toward her. “You want to get under and look at it or are you afraid to get dirty?”
“No fear here,” she answered easily. She sat down and leaned back on the crate, feeling the wood rough against her shoulder blades as she adjusted her position.
Ken rolled under the car so she could see only his feet.
She followed, thankful she wasn’t a mechanic. She wasn’t great with small spaces.
Ken turned on a flashlight, and Sam stared up at the underside of her car. He reached up and pointed to a black hose that ran from the frame of the car to the front left wheel. “This is the brake line. You’ve got one on each side.” He turned his light to shine directly on it. “You see the small punctures?”
“Yeah. Someone did that?” Seeing the evidence of his handiwork made the fingers of dread tighter around her neck. Who hated her this much?
“Yep. On both sides. Basically, the brakes work okay for a day or two, depending on how much you use them. Each time you brake, some of the fluid leaks out and the hose weakens. Eventually, the brake fluid’s gone. That’s what happened to you.”
Ken moved over and showed her the punctures in the brake line on the right side.
“That’s someone who knew what they were doing.”
“How long would they have needed access to the car to do this?” she asked.
“Five minutes at least, with good light. You got to think about who had that kind of access to your car.”
Sam pictured the front of her house. It would have been tough for someone to work out there without being seen, but late enough at night anything was possible.
“How long would it have lasted, working like that?”
“As I said, about a day or two, depending on how you use the brakes. Freeway miles, you could go a while, but one hard brake and you’d be done.”
Sam thanked Ken for his help and slid out from under the car, thankful to be on her feet again. As she headed home, she considered who had had access to her car a day or two before she’d had the accident. She’d driven in Nick’s car for most of the
week. In a hurry to get to Eva Larson’s scene, she’d taken her Blazer because the Caprice was in the garage. She frowned. The Caprice hadn’t been parked in front of the house. It had been in her garage at home that whole week. How the hell had someone gotten to it?
The only other possibility was when she’d been at work. She thought about Williams, the blackout, and the missing file. He had certainly had access to the car at work. But wanting her dead seemed so extreme. Was it even possible?
Or was there someone else out there who hated her enough to want to kill her?
Chapter Twenty-six
Nick pulled to the curb at his sister’s house and shut off the engine. The sour taste of apprehension filled his gut. He hadn’t brought a woman to meet his family since Sheila.
Sam sat beside him, her white-knuckled hands clutching a bright bouquet of flowers. He could only imagine how nervous she was. It had been a rough day for her—Derek’s outburst, finding out about the damage to her brakes, and spending the morning at funeral services for Becky Larson. Sam had identified a man from one of her old cases there, a pedophile named Gerry Hecht, and the police were busy trying to track him down now.
Nick just hoped he and Sam could enjoy the evening without thinking about the case, but he knew it would be tough. This was one of the most consuming he’d ever worked. And every time he looked at Sam, he thought about his conversation with Cintrello.
Nick had no choice but to keep his trap shut. It wasn’t going to do Sam any good if he was kicked off the force. But damn, he hated the fact that she didn’t know what was going on. Keeping tabs on her while they checked her out. How ridiculous was that? He just hoped they cleared her fast.
The flashlight was no problem. Someone had taken it from her car and planted it in Eva Larson’s home. But who? And how? And why, for God’s sake? The more time passed, the more anxious he felt about how and when they would tell her about the evidence, until he just wished they’d do it so he wouldn’t have to suffer. Selfish bastard, he thought to himself, patting his hands over his hair to make sure it wasn’t going crazy. He exhaled, feeling his chest deflate.
“You got someone to take the car back to the garage?” Sam asked out of the blue.
He looked at her and grinned. “I already told you I did. Are you stalling?”
She looked at the house and back at him. “I’m a little nervous.”
“Maybe this was a bad idea.”
She shook her head. “No, I’m looking forward to meeting them.”
“You grip those flowers any tighter and you’re going to kill them before we get to the front door.”
Her face broke into a smile and he felt some of her tension slip away with it. She slapped the flowers against his shoulder. “Just no work talk, okay?”
Nick couldn’t meet her eye, unwilling to see the trust she’d placed in him, knowing how he’d let her down. The whole thing could blow over and she might never know. He prayed that would be the case.
“Okay?” she prompted, touching his arm.
He nodded. “Okay.”
“We don’t have to think about Rob or Derek. It’ll just be a mellow evening.” She paused. “With your entire family.”
Nick looked over at her and the two of them burst out laughing. “Oh, God. You make it sound like torture. Let’s go before you change your mind.” He stepped out of the car and caught the motion of the front curtains. Their arrival had already been announced, no doubt.
She was stepping out of the car when he got to her side. Beneath her breath, she was mumbling.
“What did you say?”
“I’m trying to remember all the names. This is your oldest sister Gina’s house and her husband is Mike. They’ve got two kids, Tracy and Kevin. Kevin lives back east with his wife, but Tracy will be here. Tracy’s husband is Brian and they’ve got two boys, Allen and Will, and one on the way—a girl. Then, your brother Phil and his wife, Alison. And your mother.” Her eyes snapped open. “What should I call your mother?”
“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong. Gina’s married to—” He paused and watched her face drop. Laughing, he put his arm around her. “You’re so cute when you’re concentrating.”
She pushed him away. “I can’t believe you did that. You scared me to death.”
He laughed, pulling her close again. He wished more than anything he could skip right over dinner with his family and take her home. Since she’d told the boys about her past, the thick wall around her had dissolved. Or perhaps he’d just gained entrance.
“What about your mother?” she whispered after he rang the doorbell.
“Ella. Just call her Ella.”
His sister answered the door. Her graying hair was pulled up and she wore a blue cotton blouse and black slacks. “You look nice,” Nick said, kissing her on the cheek and then introducing Sam. The two women shook hands and Sam offered the flowers.
Gina thanked Sam and said to him, “I seeyou didn’t bring me anything.”
“I brought you me. What else could you want?”
Gina laughed. “Can you believe him?” she said to Sam. “Just like a man.”
Nick took Sam’s coat and hung it with his on the old wooden rack that had been by the door in their house growing up.
“Everyone’s out back,” Gina said, leading the way. Nick let Sam go ahead of him as they made their way to the back of the house. Gina’s house centered around the kitchen. It was the biggest room in the house and also the nicest.
In the years after Kevin and Tracy went off to college, Mike and Gina had spent their weekends and evenings redoing it. It had high ceilings and bright white cupboards with six-pane glass doors. A large bay window took up one side, where a casual dining table was always set for at least one extra. Tonight, dinner would be in the dining room on an old pine table that had served Nick as a kid when dinner had been only rice and beans with a side helping of chaos. Now the group was huddled around the island where Mike was chopping chives and telling stories, grandkids running around his feet.
Nick watched Sam suck in a quick breath as they entered the room and she took in the size of the group. Gina made introductions.
“Uncle Nick!” his great-nephew screamed. Nick picked Allen up and turned him upside down, holding him by his feet and making monster noises. Allen shrieked with joy.
“Me next!” Will shouted, tugging on his pant leg.
Nick repeated the exercise with Will, watching Sam out of the corner of his eye.
“Me again,” Allen said as soon as Will was back on the floor.
He picked them both up, one under each arm, and carried them to where Sam was being introduced to his mother. Setting the boys down, he kissed his mother’s cheek.
“Me,” Will screamed.
“No, me,” Allen insisted.
Will pulled on Sam’s pant leg. “What’s your name?”
Smiling, Sam bent down. “I’m Sam. You must be Will.”
Will’s mouth formed a giantO as he looked at her.
“I’ve heard a lot about you guys,” she said. She reached out and shook his hand. “But Nick didn’t tell me how handsome you were.”
Will stared at the ground, swinging his body left and right while his arms flopped against his sides.
“What do you say?” Nick prompted.
Will furrowed his brow. “Can you play airplane with us?”
“Wrong answer. You say thank you.”
Will shrugged. “Thank you.”
“Now will you play airplane?” Allen asked.
“Hold on, guys,” Nick said.
Sam laughed.
“Uncle Nick,” Allen begged, “come play. Please.”
“Will, Allen,” Tracy called to them. “Go watch TV while the grown-ups visit.”
“But Uncle Nick was playing airplane,” Allen protested.
Tracy swatted Allen’s butt playfully. “He’ll play later. Now git.”
Allen started to say something else, but Tracy turned him around and gav
e him a gentle shove toward the door. He stomped two steps, and then when Will raced past him he took off after his brother.
Nick said hello to his niece, noting she was starting to look uncomfortably pregnant. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Ready to be done,” Tracy said, patting her swollen belly. “Five weeks and counting.”
“Everyone to the table,” his mother announced, tapping her spoon against a glass.
They settled into their chairs as his mother directed them, making sure no one sat next to their own spouse or anyone of the same sex. She took the head of the table, as she always did. A purple satin cloth ran down the center, on it two large wrought-iron candelabras with bright purple candles. The napkins were purple with blue-and-purple ribbon tied around them. When Gina looked over at him, he winked to let her know how nice everything looked.
Mike’s cooking was wonderful. He served salmon steak with melted chive butter, steamed asparagus, and new potatoes. Gina had made strawberry shortcake for dessert.
Nick listened to Tracy talk about the baby’s room while Gina gave stray pieces of advice to her daughter. Turning his attention, he listened to Tracy’s husband, Brian, who was a stockbroker, talk about the downfall of the new-economy stocks.
“I know a lot of brokers who just refuse to trade them,” Brian was saying. “These companies were returning a hundred percent in a day or two. You look at their market cap and P/E; it’s not rational. Now they’re tanking and people are upset.”
“You probably own every one of those irrational stocks,” Tracy said.
Brian shrugged, then smiled. “Well, of course. No guts, no glory.”
“I’m sure that’s what they said in 1929, too,” his mother added, scolding her son-in-law.
“You would know. You were there. Right, Mom?” Nick said with a wink.
“You stop it right there!” his mother said, smacking him on the arm.
They laughed.
“You want me to get into stories, Nicky boy,” his mother started. “Have you told Sam about your first B&E?”
“Oh, no,” Nick groaned.
Tracy clapped over her swollen belly. “Tell it, Grandma. Tell that story.”
“No, Sam doesn’t want to hear that,” Nick countered.
(2002) Chasing Darkness Page 20