A Fine Balance
Page 18
Liz did a quick back and forth between Jack and the dog, surprised in more ways than one. Jack had always been an island unto himself. Kind, sweet, loveable as hell, but still…fences-up guarded. He and that dog were operating on some completely different, simpatico wave length. “Hi, Sam.” She held out her hand. “Come closer, let me see your pretty face.”
“It’s okay, Sam.” Jack nudged the pup forward. “She’s sorry for screaming at you, aren’t you Liz?”
“Goddamn, Jack,” Liz said, grinning. “You’re freaking me out.”
“Hey, life’s strange,” Jack replied with a flicker of a smile. “Tell him you’re sorry, and I’ll make you both a grilled cheese sandwich.”
“With the crusts cut off.”
“Course.”
“Extra butter crispy.”
Jack lifted his brows. “We negotiating something here?”
“I’ve just never said I’m sorry to a dog before.”
“Warm chocolate chip cookies gonna change your mind?”
“Damn, you know how to smooth talk me.”
Years of practice. “So?”
“Okay, I’m sorry, Sam,” she said, gently, then grinned. “Now we’re both going to get grilled cheese sandwiches.”
Jack leaned over and ruffled her dark curls. “There’s a good girl. You talk to Sam. He’s a good listener and I’ll make the sandwiches. Just so you know, I have the Fort Bragg Bakery bread you lust after in my bread box. There. I thought that would make you happy.”
“You make me happy.”
“We got a history, babe. Most of it good.”
“It’s been awhile hasn’t it?”
“Yeah, it has. And once you eat, you’ll feel better and you can tell me all your troubles. I’ve got my 5 cents therapy sign up.”
“Maybe my troubles will all go away.”
He turned back from the fridge and shot her a look. “That’s my wish whenever the shit hits the fan. Sometimes it actually happens.” He didn’t want to say, Your period might start. He figured he’d hear about it soon enough if it did.
He worked fast. He was a good cook, mostly because he liked to eat. He sliced bread, cheese, made the sandwiches, melted butter in a frying pan, and while the sandwiches were browning, sliced tomatoes and kohlrabi, drizzled olive oil and balsamic vinegar over them, salt and pepper, poured two glasses of milk, stirred in his own mix of cocoa, vanilla bean and sugar and set the items on the table. When the sandwiches were golden crisp, he slid them out of the pan, trimmed the crusts from Liz’s sandwich, cut her sandwich into four strips, arranged them on a colorful polka-dot patterned plate and handed it to her. Sam’s sandwich went on a paper plate on the floor, his on another polka dot plate, then thumbing unthaw on the microwave to melt the frozen chocolate chip cookies, he moved to the table.
“There’s Cowlick’s ice cream too if you want.” Taking a seat next to Liz, he set down his plate, picked up his sandwich and smiled. “Bon appetite, babe.”
“Black Forest Chocolate ice cream?” she asked through a mouth full of grilled cheese.
He nodded.
“Rocky Road?”
Another nod.
“Butter Brickle Praline?”
He rolled his eyes and swallowed. “Couple others too. Feel free to eat them all.”
“I might. I’m hungry all the time.”
No way he was touching that with a ten foot pole. “Make sure you eat some veggies,” he said instead. “Those are Marcy’s tomatoes, best in show at the county fair.” Then he took another bite of sandwich to avoid further conversation about Liz’s appetite.
He ended up forking pieces of tomato into Liz’s mouth and hand feeding her the julienned strips of kohlrabi because he believed in good nutrition, Liz preferred fast food and he’d been coaxing her to eat vegetables forever. She tried all the ice creams, ate more cookies than he did, but that was familiar too.
She finally said, “One more cookie and I’m done.”
After putting away the ice cream, Jack walked back, and sat down. “Okay, now, tell me your troubles. Fill me in.”
“I may or may not have troubles. That’s the problem. But the not knowing is nerve-racking. I’ve always been steady-as-a-rock when it comes to the game plan for my life, good grades, good university, good law school and now, hell, everything’s spinning out of control and making me crazy.”
“It’s not impossible to raise a child on your own. I’m just saying,” he added to her small groan. “You’re smart, competent, caring.”
“But what if I turn out like my mother? The thought keeps me awake at night.”
“You’re not like her. Jesus, not even a little.”
She grimaced. “Then there’s Chris to deal with. Not exactly father material.”
“No argument there. What you ever saw in him”—Jack stopped; his choice of a wife hadn’t been much better.
“Chris was exciting.”
“Can’t fault you there,” Jack said, drily. Chris Chambers had courted trouble most of his life, the quintessential bad boy with attitude even after he’d come out of Berkeley law school with Liz. Thanks to Wade, Jack knew more than he wanted to know about Chris’s quasi-legal activities.
“I liked Chris’s BMW racing cycle too.”
Jack laughed. “That beats my reasons for marrying Sarah. She asked me and I’d been drinking.”
“And she had bodacious tits,” Liz said with a grin.
She’d also been working him hard for an engagement ring, but he didn’t say that. “It was all pretty lame, I agree. But I was younger, stupider, and”—
“She was pressing you big time. Don’t look so surprised. I was down there the week-end before. She had her tits in your face twenty-four/seven, not to mention the rest of her equipment. And she warned me off. You didn’t know that, did you,” Liz added at his raised brows. “I’m guessing I wasn’t the only woman she sent packing. So here we are, older and wiser.” She grinned. “Although I still like that racing bike.”
Having learned from his mistakes, Jack gave her a cool-eyed look. “Buy your own bike, get rid of your husband, problem solved.”
“I should, shouldn’t I?”
“You want the truth or you want a polite answer?”
“You’re the only friend I’ve ever had.”
“Not true.”
She grinned. “Well, the only friend with benefits.”
“Agreed. It’s been great, babe.”
“Hey!” She lasered him with a look. “You leaving me?”
He was as surprised as she, his use of the present perfect tense unintentional. “Course not,” he said. “You need me, I’m here.”
“Whew. You scared me. You’re way better than any therapist and I should know.”
“No shit. And I’m free. So save your money.”
“You don’t believe in therapy?”
His lashes drifted downward and his blue-eyed gaze was amused. “So how’s that working out for you?”
“Damn, I hate your calm air of assurance. Like you can handle whatever comes your way.”
“Don’t forget Monty. I didn’t handle that one well.”
“But afterward you walked away from your marriage without a backward glance.”
He shrugged. “It helped that I’d never liked Monty. He was an ass-kisser.” He grinned. “Maybe Sarah liked her ass kissed. Actually, she probably did.” Another shrug. “Not my style.”
“So your heart wasn’t broken.”
He drew in a small breath, then shook his head. “I worried about that for a while, thinking maybe I should have felt worse than I did about the break-up.”
“She was a snippy, cold-hearted bitch.”
He grinned. “Now you tell me.”
“Same way you’re reminding me of Chris’s deficiencies.”
“We were way too polite to each other.”
“Sarah was tall, blonde and beautiful. I figured you wanted that.”
“And Chris was making you
giddy. You looked happy.”
“And now I’m not looking for giddy and you’re not looking for”--
“Whatever.” He shrugged. “For sure, not someone like Sarah who wants a law enforcement bureaucrat with his eye on a political career.”
“Instead of a lone wolf without political ambitions.”
He grunted.
A small silence fell.
Jack’s thoughts had turned to the woman currently intriguing him, the differences between Jillian and Sarah blessedly stark. Unlike his lying ex-wife, Jillian Penrose was so goddamn dew fresh, she made you believe in the goodness of the world and true, blue happiness.
“Hey, earth to Morgan,” Liz chided as the silence lengthened. “You’re out in space, dude. What’re you thinking about?”
Jack looked up. “Nothing. You have enough going on.”
“I can multi-task. Tell me.”
“Nah.”
“Is it related to you not answering your phone when I called the other day?”
His flinch was infinitesimal, but five years a judge had made her keen-eyed. “I saw that.”
“What? This murder case is on my mind.”
“Liar.”
Jack glanced out the windows, past the deck, out to the moonlit sea before he looked back. “You sure you want to know?” His dark brows were drawn together faintly.
“I do if it doesn’t affect our friendship.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Not a problem.”
But he fell silent again.
Liz searched Jack’s face, her gaze intent. “You didn’t kill someone, did you?”
“Not yet. I might. That murder at the dump needs payback.”
“Okay, so if it’s not business it must be personal.” Her brows rose. “Come on, what are you keeping from me?”
“I met someone.”
Liz went motionless.
“That’s why I didn’t want to tell you. You’re dealing with a lot of upsetting stuff. And this might turn out to be nothing. I just met her so who the fuck knows? You okay?” Shit, Liz wasn’t breathing. He shouldn’t have told her.
She took a breath. “I’m surprised that’s all.”
“Look, I’m still here to help you. Nothing’s changed and, honestly, I’m pretty clueless about what I’m feeling. It’s all too strange, too fast, too everyfuckingthing.”
“Tell me she’s not like Sarah.”
A smile lit up his eyes. “Not even close.”
Liz blew out a breath. “Okay, then, you have my blessing.”
He held her gaze. “Thanks,” he said, softly. “It’s such a lousy time for you, I feel like a prick even mentioning Jillian.”
“Penrose?”
His gaze widened. “How do you know that?”
“Her eviction case went through my court. Jillian’s an unusual name. Let me guess. Woffie talked you into serving the papers.”
“Jesus, are you psychic?”
She shook her head. “Woffie stopped by with some of his carrot cupcakes. Paying you back for a favor, he said. By the way, the cupcakes are in the freezer.”
“Bloody hell,” he muttered. “This village is way the hell too small.”
“That’s why I’m going to Santa Rose for a pregnancy kit.”
“Good idea. You worried about Chris finding out?”
“Before I give him the news you mean?”
“If you give him the news I mean.”
As if on cue, Liz’s cell phone rang. Sliding it out of her purse, she looked at the caller ID, and murmured, “Speak of the devil.” After a brief conversation, she shoved her phone back in her purse and stood up. “I gotta go.”
“He’s home?” Jack pushed his chair back and came to his feet.
She shrugged. “Another surprise arrival, like his surprise departures.”
“Where from and where to?” He was curious. Chris was gone more than he was home lately.
Another shrug. “I don’t ask. I don’t even look at his plane tickets anymore.”
“You should hang it up then. Get on with your life.”
“Even if I’m”—
“Even then. He’s not worth the angst and hassle.” He didn’t say if Chris was mixed up in something messy—which Jack was beginning to suspect—baby or not, Liz would be better out of the picture. “Are you going to be okay? Want me to go with you? I’d be happy to play bodyguard.” He smiled. “I carry.”
She laughed. “Stop already. Chris is an ass, but not dangerous. Or at least not to me.”
Jack scowled. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Nothing. It was just an expression.”
Jack dragged in a breath. “Look, I’m going to be all over the map with this murder investigation, but if you’re ever stressed out—for whatever reason—call me and I’ll get someone to come over and help you.” He gave a quick glance at her belly. “You might have more than yourself to think about, so don’t take any chances. You hear?”
“I won’t. I promise,” she said, because he was looking grim and she knew better than to argue.
“Okay, then,” he said, gruffly and dropped a kiss on her forehead. Turning, he picked up her briefcase and purse, and walked her out to her car.
A moment later, he and Sam watched tail-lights disappear down the shore road. “I hope you’re not tired, Sam, cause we still have a couple places to be tonight.”
Sam looked up and wagged his tail.
“That’s what I like—no complaints. First I have to take a shower, a real one this time. You probably should get washed up too. That shit hole of a gas station you called home should have been condemned. We’re gonna see a nice lady and a little kid, so we both better be super clean. And the kid’s really small so don’t fall on him or you’ll crush him.”
Chapter 29
Jack made arrangements to meet Morrie in his driveway. Electronic surveillance equipment was available at the local Ace hardware for Christ’s sake; he wanted to keep this conversation confidential.
“Over here.” Morrie was standing in the shadows near his garage door.
Letting Sam out of the back seat, Jack offered a quick introduction of the pup as they reached the sheriff. “Meet my new partner. I rescued him from one of Remington’s stooges. Sam, Morrie.” Jack shot Morrie a quick grin. “Caught you at a bad time?” Except for his slippers, the sheriff was in Revolutionary War garb. “Lily into role playing?”
“Fuck you,” Morrie said.
“Only if I get really hard up and that hasn’t happened lately.”
“Or ever.”
Jack smiled faintly. “So far so good. Kinda like this investigation. Wanna hear all my good news?”
Since Jack already had forwarded the client list to Morrie’s private email account, the men discussed the names on the list and prioritized them in terms of importance. Then they touched on the possible leak in the AG’s office because it could seriously prejudice their results. Morrie explained that a quiet probe was under way and meanwhile he and the AG were communicating via encryption. Next, Jack brought Morrie up to speed on Luis’s KFC look-alike in Willits who just happened to bear a strong resemblance to the number one client on Remington’s list.
“I Goggled Tweedy,” Jack explained. “No surprise, the good pastor’s evangelical scam has all the bells and whistles: beaucoup outreach for donations, retirement communities for like-minded Christian souls, soft-ball teams, fucking garden clubs, teen-centered activities… yeah that one caught my eye too. And his white suit and limo brand is prominently displayed all over the website. I’m guessing he’s our guns, God and ganja hood who recruited the tattooed religious crazies I saw at Ella’s. So if it’s okay with you, I’ll track down Tweedy first, then check out some of the other players on the list. Let me know if any of Eric and Harvey’s info is useable.”
“I will. And keep me in the loop. One quick question.” Morrie’s voice was mild as hell. “Remington’s assistant just gave up this list no questions asked?”
“Good thing you’re fucking rich.”
“Happy to help.” Both of them knew the county budget was stretched. “And people like Remington’s gang who go after kids, qualify as targets in my book.”
“You’ll be careful on the target shit.”
“You won’t even know.”
Morrie let out a sigh. “The world is getting more fucked up every day.”
“Keep our turf from turning into a sewer, screw the rest. Otherwise, you go crazy.”
“Yeah, I keep telling myself that. But we’re dealing with big hitters this time. No gangbangers or wannabees. If Remington notices his client list has traveled he’ll be calling in the heavy artillery.”
“Megan sent it over a private server one of her boyfriends set up for her. So if she knows what she’s talking about we’re safe. At least until we start squeezing some of those major clients.”
“We still have a little time then. This is fucking dynamite though--you know that, right? All those money and power guys won’t go down easy.”
“Yeah, I’m aware. I’d suggest opening your emails at home. I’d like to think our office leaks are your prick nephew’s fault so you could fire his ass, but he's dumb as a post so who the hell knows. And those shakers and movers on Remington’s client list can buy anyone and anything, hit men, wet teams, whatever.”
“Maybe this would be a good time to retire,” Morrie said, deadpan. “Write my book on muzzleloaders.”
Jack smiled. “As if. You love this shit. Taking down the big shots gives you a hard on. You believe in ethics. That makes you a goddamn unicorn, Morrie, but I love you for it.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t like to make these suckers squeal.”
“Course I do. But it’s not about ethics, it’s a game. These guys are major assholes who think their money keeps them safe. I’m a bigger asshole who’s gonna show them it doesn’t. Now, if you don’t have any more questions, Sam and I have things to do.”