by Jeff Shelby
“I think it does,” she said, nodding. “Thank you for telling me. I appreciate it.”
“There's a shit ton more, but that's probably good for tonight,” I said, forcing a smile. “I don't want to suffocate you with it.”
She smiled back at me. “I don't feel suffocated. At all.” She took a drink from her beer and set the now empty bottle on the table. “But I do feel stuffed. You want to walk for a bit?”
I glanced at the guys eyeing her again. I waited until they noticed me watching them. One quickly looked away, but the other tried to hold my gaze for a moment. Eventually, he saw something that scared him and his face reddened and he looked down at his food.
“Yeah,” I said. “Let's go walk.”
TWELVE
“So when you say you're fucked up, what exactly do you mean?” Sarah asked.
We left the taco shop and were walking slowly through the streets of Old Town, navigating the narrow sidewalks that fronted the shops and restaurants. When I was a kid, it had been almost like a village of independent businesses. But over the years, it had been sold and re-sold and modernized and while it had attempted to retain some of its original charm, it had gone from feeling more like a village to a Mexican-themed outdoor shopping mall. Very few of the original stores and restaurants remained, replaced with new, shinier versions. There were still piñatas and colorful Mexican blankets and pottery and jewelry on display in store windows, but the new Old Town felt sanitized, somehow.
I stuck my hands in my pockets. “I really don't know. I guess I mean I have some good days and some bad days.”
“What are the bad days like?”
I thought for a moment. “I'm just sad, I think. I feel a little hopeless. I miss her. I don't feel normal.”
“And what about the good days?”
I thought again. “I feel less sad. I can focus on things. I can see ahead a bit. Just more clarity.”
Sarah nodded as we walked. “That sounds right. So what's today?”
“A good day,” I said. “Definitely a good day.”
She smiled. “I'm glad. For you.”
“There's a churro place up here,” I said, nodding toward the little shop. “Super good.”
She placed a hand on her stomach. “How can you even think about more food?”
“It's a churro. It's barely food.”
The line out the door of the churro shop moved quickly and ten minutes later, we were splitting the warm, cinnamon-sugar, donut-like dessert as we walked.
“You know, you could've told me all of this without buying me dinner and dessert,” she said, as she tore off a hunk of the churro.
“I know that.”
“So why didn't you?”
I wiped the sugar from my lips with the back of my hand. “Because I wanted to have dinner with you. I wanted to spend more time with you.”
“I think you want to get me fat. Like the witch in Hansel and Gretel.”
I laughed and shook my head. “Nah. Not on purpose, anyway. Just wanted to...go out with you.”
She stopped on the sidewalk and readjusted the backpack on her shoulder. She started to say something, then stopped. She pursed her lips, thinking for a moment.
I waited.
“Okay, fine,” she finally said. Her eyes were fixed on the ground but eventually she looked back up at me. “I was pissed when I didn't hear from you all this time. I said I wasn't, but I was. I knew that it wasn't really personal, but I still took it that way. I was going to call you a couple of times, but talked myself out of it. I knew you had your reasons and you weren't in any way dishonest with me, but I was still upset.” She paused. “It's the irrational woman in me, I guess.”
I shrugged. “Totally fair. To be upset, I mean.”
“And I really wasn't going to come find you when my dad needed help,” she continued. “Because I knew it would mean I'd see you and I was afraid it might've been personal, the fact that I hadn't heard from you. But I finally said screw it. Whatever happens, happens.” She toed the sidewalk, her eyes cast downward again. “As soon as I sat down in that bar with you, I wished I'd called you sooner. And when I said you didn't owe me dinner or anything, it was because I was afraid I'd want more from you if I spent more time with you. Again.”
I wadded up the wax paper from the churro and squeezed it into a ball. “Okay.”
She smiled ruefully. “And so now we're having this totally nice night and you've laid yourself bare to me when you didn't have to and have been totally upfront with me and all I'm thinking about is that I want to spend more time with you and that sounds like it might end up being a total trainwreck. For me.”
I wanted to tell her that she was wrong, but I didn't think I could honestly do that.
“So now I have to make a decision,” Sarah said, squinting at me. “I have to decide if I want to take a risk here or if I want to play it safe. And it's totally my choice because I'm not sure anyone has ever been as honest with me about anything as you have about what you're going through.”
“You don't have to make a decision,” I told her.
“Yeah, I do,” she said.
“I'm sorry,” I said. I shoved my hands in my pockets, even the one with the balled up paper, because I didn’t know what else to do with them. “I didn't mean to put you in this position.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “Oh my god. Stop apologizing. This is about me, alright? Stop being all Mr. Honorable and Gentlemanly and shit.” She opened her eyes. “Stop apologizing.”
I closed my mouth.
“No one has ever accused me of being level-headed,” she muttered.
Then she stepped into me, pulled my face to hers, and kissed me. She tasted like cinnamon and sugar and something else sweet.
After a moment, she stepped back. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips rosy.
“Well,” I said.
She held up a finger. “I'm not done.” She took a deep breath, then exhaled. “I'm going to ask you something and all I want is a yes or no answer,” she said. “No excuses or apologies or anything like that. Alright?”
“Alright.”
She studied me for a moment. “Do you want to come back to my place?”
I wasn't sure what I'd expected her to ask me, but it wasn't that. “What?”
“Do you want to come home with me?” she asked. Her words came out in a rush. “Like, tonight. Now. Would you like to continue our date at my home?”
I looked away from her. People were strolling along the walk, shopping bags and drink cups and churros in hand. Cars pulled out of parking spaces and new cars slipped in instead. The streetlights were flickering on as the sun disappeared.
I turned back to her. “I can't promise you anything.”
“I'm not asking you to promise me a thing, Noah,” she said. “All I'm asking for is a yes or a no. For right now. That's it.”
I hadn't lied to her.
It had been a good day. I'd felt focused. And I'd really enjoyed her company. There was nothing not to like. And I hadn't been interrupted by thoughts of Liz or my father or any of the other bullshit that normally haunted me, even after I'd unloaded it all on her. Those were good signs for me.
“Shit,” Sarah said. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I'm sorry. You weren't ready for this. Or you just don't want to and I put you on the spot. I'm being too forward. I just—”
“Yes,” I said, cutting her off.
Her mouth hung open for a moment. “Yes?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, you weren't ready for this? Yes, I put you on the spot?”
“Yes, you put me on the spot,” I said. I looked at the balled up wrapper in my hand that I was squeezing to death. I deposited in a trashcan next to us. “And yes, I'd like to go to your place.”
She eyed me carefully for a minute, like she was trying to interpret what I'd just said to her. Then she nodded.
She reached for my hand. “Yes.”
I let her ta
ke my hand and wrapped my fingers around hers. “Yes.”
THIRTEEN
“We got time to stop for food?” Carter asked, then yawned and stretched like a cat in the passenger seat next to me.
It was early the next morning and we were headed up to Valley Center to poke around Henry Dowdell's property.
“Of course,” I said, pulling into the drive-thru lane of a small shack just off La Jolla Boulevard. “I built in enough time. Figured you'd need something for getting up this early.”
He held up two large fingers. “Two. I need two somethings.”
I ordered three breakfast burritos and a couple of large coffees. Five minutes later, we were back on the road and he was unwrapping the foil from his first burrito, the entire car now smelling like eggs and sausage.
“What are we doing up here again?” he said, his mouth full of the contents of the burrito.
I sipped at the coffee in my free hand. “Investigating. You know, our jobs.”
“Your job.”
“Semantics. Plus, you said you need work.”
“So this is some sort of charity thing?” he asked, cutting his eyes at me.
“You know better. It's a job. We’re getting paid for it.”
He grunted and finished off the first burrito. I set the coffee down in the drink holder and pulled the foil from my burrito in my lap. I clutched it in one hand and used the other to steer us onto the highway. A thin layer of clouds shrouded the sun but they were the kind that would burn off by noon.
“But you don't think it'll go anywhere,” Carter said, ripping the foil from his second. “That's what you told me.”
“Based on what I know now? It's not that I don't think we'll find anything. I'm just not sure what there is to find.”
He shrugged his massive shoulders. “Easy money, I suppose.”
I wolfed down the burrito in a couple of bites and picked up the coffee again. I didn't want to think of it as easy money. I wanted to do the right thing for the right reasons. I wasn't planning to half-ass the job, and I truly hoped I'd be able to find something to give to Dowdell. I was just skeptical about my ability to do so.
“I don't wanna sound like your mother here, but I noticed you didn't come home last night,” Carter said, picking up his coffee.
“My mother would never know whether I came home or not,” I answered.
“Fair point,” Carter said. “But it does beg the question as to where you were last night.”
“Begs the question?”
“Saw it on an episode of Sherlock or something,” he said, grinning. “Sounded fancy.”
“It does.”
“And you're avoiding the question.”
I glanced in the rearview mirror and switched lanes. “I told you I was having dinner with Sarah.”
“Long dinner.”
I shrugged.
“Alright, let me approach this from a different angle,” Carter said, wadding up the foil wrapper and dropping it back in the bag. “Does she know where you're at?”
“I told her we were going to her father's this morning, so yeah?”
“Funny. You're like Don Rickles.”
“Jesus, how old are you?”
“I mean did you tell her where you're at in terms of Liz and all that shit?”
I shifted in my seat. “I told her. She knew before about what happened. But, yeah, I told her.”
“And she's cool with that?”
“I guess. We had a good dinner.”
“And then some, apparently,” he said, turning to look out his window.
I took a deep breath. I wasn't sure what he wanted to hear from me. And I didn't feel like rehashing the night with him, for multiple reasons.
“Look, I'm really not trying to get in your shit here,” Carter finally said after a few minutes of silence. “But I know how all of this has hung over you and how it's fucked you up. And all of that is totally justified, man. That is not a criticism in any way, dude. It would fuck anyone up. I just don't want you to get more fucked up or fuck anyone else up.”
“That's a lot of fuck ups.”
“I'm serious, Noah,” he said. “If you're good, then cool. You're good. But I don't want you going off the reservation or hurting someone that you care about in some way. Because I know that would upset you more than anything else.”
I took another sip from the coffee and let it burn its way down my throat. I held it in my hand, the heat transferring quickly from the paper cup to my palm. “I can't grieve forever.”
“I know that. There's also no timetable or schedule. You don't owe anyone anything.”
I thought about being with Sarah the night before. “You think she'd be pissed?”
“Liz?”
He readjusted in his seat, stretching out his long frame, and chuckled. “I could see her getting a little pissed off the first time you spent the night with someone else.”
The knot from the day before materialized in my gut again.
“But she'll get over it,” he said. “I mean, I have no idea what the fuck happens when we die. I don't really believe in a god or the afterlife or some golden escalator to heaven, but I guess I think we're still around in some form or spirit. So if she is around? If she is watching? She'd want you to be happy and she sure wouldn't want you digging yourself a hole you couldn't get out of.” He paused. “If Sarah is a good thing for you right now, then Liz will be cool with that.”
I hoped he was right. It was the way I wanted to think about everything. But if the situation was reversed and I was the one that was dead and could somehow see the living, the thought of seeing Liz with anyone else probably would've turned me into some raging demon.
“It was a good night,” I finally said. “That's all I can say. It was a good night and for awhile, I forgot about anything and almost felt like me.”
Carter adjusted his sunglasses. “Then that all sounds cool. I'm glad.” A corner of his mouth turned upward. “But I'm gonna keep my eye out for a really pissed off ghost.”
FOURTEEN
We pulled up to the Dowdell property thirty minutes later and Henry was standing outside next to a pickup truck, holding a clipboard. He was dressed in the same uniform as the day before: button-down shirt, faded jeans, and stained work boots. He looked up as we came up the drive, then held up a hand in greeting.
“Maybe don't mention that you slept with his daughter,” Carter mumbled as he opened his door.
I pushed my own door open. “Shut up.”
We walked toward Henry and his smile flickered a little as we approached. “Noah. Good to see you again.”
We shook hands.
“And I see you've brought a friend,” he said, eyeing Carter.
“I did. This is Carter. He works with me on most investigations.”
They shook hands and Henry was clearly sizing him up.
Carter didn't say anything.
“I didn't realize you had a partner,” Henry said.
“I'm more of an associate,” Carter said.
“Right,” Henry said. “Associate.”
“We can cover a little more ground with two of us,” I explained. “Both figuratively and literally.”
Henry shrugged. “I suppose that makes sense. What can I do to help you get started today?”
“Actually, I don't think anything,” I told him. “We’re going to drive out to the spot on the ranch where the pictures were taken. I'd like Carter to see it. And then I'd like for us to scout around a bit.”
“Scout around?”
I set my hands on my hips. “I'd just like to see some more of the property, and I'd like Carter to see it, too.”
“So you need me to take you out there?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Actually, no. I'd prefer we went without you.”
Henry set the clipboard in the bed of the truck. “Without me?” His brow furrowed.
“Yes.”
He set his hands on the side of the truck like he was steadying h
imself. “Mind if I ask why?”
“Two reasons,” I said. “One, I'm sure you're busy and you've got other things to do. And two, I'd like to look around without guidance, so we're sort of getting an unfiltered look. It's not anything you would do. But sometimes it helps to see things without the input from someone who knows the area so well.”
Henry rubbed at his chin. “Well, I suppose that makes sense. Alright. Have at it, I guess.” He snapped his fingers. “Actually, hold on just a minute.” He turned and jogged into the house.
“An unfiltered look?” Carter asked when Henry was inside. “Did you get that from the private investigator's handbook?”
“Page 139.”
“What's on page 140?”
“I can't tell you that. It's for licensed private investigators only.”
“Ah.”
“I just think it'll be good if we see it without any preconceived notions.”
“I hear ya.”
Henry returned and held out a check in my direction. “Your fee.” He glanced at Carter. “I assume it's still what we discussed?”
I took the check, folded it in half, and put it in my pocket. “We're a package deal. Thank you.”
Henry held up a phone. “I'm gonna call my ranch manager and let him know you'll be out there. Just so he's aware.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “And I'll check in with you before we leave.”
We said goodbye and Carter and I got back in the SUV. I hit the air as soon as the engine rolled over. The clouds had already disappeared in the valley, and it was going to be a hot one.
“Package deal?” Carter asked. “I think I just got a raise.”
“You got nothing.”
“About what I was getting before.”
“Fine,” I said, shifting the car into drive. “I'll give you more of the nothing you were getting before. Ten percent more. So you are getting a raise.”