The Runaway

by Jennifer Bernard

  Except he hadn’t.

  She drifted off to sleep after that, leaving him staring blankly at the ceiling.

  Love?

  The things Gracie made him feel were wild and new. Lying next to her, listening to her even breaths, watching a stray lock of her hair flutter with each puff of air, Gracie brought out so many emotions in him. Admiration for her spirit. Fear for her safety. The deepest, most intense lust he’d ever experienced. Fury, occasionally. Did all that fit the description of love?

  Was love even real? Was it something he wanted?

  If only he could call Dr. Geller and talk this over with him. Even though the therapist didn’t take kindly to late-night calls that weren’t emergencies, he hovered his hand over the phone, ready to break the rules.

  And then it rang. He jumped, nearly waking Gracie. She rolled over toward him and snuggled her face into his rib cage. Carefully, he answered the call, which came from a number he didn’t recognize. “Hello,” he said, as quietly as he possibly could.

  “Mark!” The shouting voice on the other end gave him another start. “It’s Dwayne. You gotta get down here. There’s a fire at the marina.”

  29

  “What?” He jolted upright, sending Gracie facedown onto the sheets. She woke up, blinking at him.

  Mark scrambled for his clothes. He punched the speaker button and left the phone on the nightstand so he could use both his hands. “Did you call the fire department?”

  “Yeah, they’re here, but this fire’s fucking fast! Everyone on their boats, I woke them up, told them either to get out or get their boats out on the water. The rest of the boats…I don’t know, man.”

  “They all have fire insurance.”

  “Hope so. We got a bunch of guys here helping out. We got fishermen, the entire staff is here, we’re evacuating everyone. Got a bucket brigade going.”

  “Roger that.” His heart swelled at the thought of all the odd inhabitants of the marina helping to put out the fire. “I don’t want anyone getting hurt, Dwayne. The place can burn, just keep everyone safe. You understand?”

  “Yeah, man. Of course.”

  Thank God for Dwayne’s military training. Best possible person to be in charge during a crisis. “Be there as soon as I can.”

  “You close? Where are you?”

  A quick calculation told him that he was nowhere near close enough. “I’m in Los Angeles. Getting in the car now. You go take care of business. Call me if you need anything.”

  “Okay, boss. We’re on it.”

  “Thanks for the call. Now get back to it. I’m on my way.”

  He punched the end-call button and tossed his phone into his bag. Good thing he hadn’t unpacked the thing at all.

  Gracie sat up, her hair a bright tangle. “There’s a fire?”

  “Yeah, at the marina. I gotta go, Gracie.”

  “Oh my God!” She scrambled out of the bed and flew across the floor for her underwear. “Just give me one second to get dressed.”

  “You don’t have to come. I know you want to see Laine again. I’ll leave you some money to rent a car, but if I could take yours to save time—”

  “Mark! Stop it. Of course I’m coming with you. I care about the marina, too, you know.” She finished squirming into her clothes and zipped up her backpack, then slung it over her shoulder. “Ready.”

  His throat closed up with sudden tight emotion. Of course Gracie was coming with him. Why had he ever thought otherwise? She would never turn her back on someone who needed her.

  “Okay then,” he said gruffly. “Let’s go.”

  “I’m driving,” she told him as she palmed her car keys. “It’s my car, you’re upset, and I was taught to drive by the great Griffin Rockwell, aka The Rogue. So don’t even think about arguing.”

  Good call, he quickly discovered. On the empty nighttime freeways, with no traffic, she shifted into another level of skill behind the wheel. They zoomed past the downtown skyline of Los Angeles, the buildings twinkling with a thousand late-night office lights. He directed her through the complex web of freeways until they reached the southbound artery that would take them toward Ocean Shores.

  They didn’t talk again until they were clear of the city.

  “Is the fire department there?” she finally asked.

  “Yeah.” His throat closed up as he pictured flames bursting from the marina, ramps turning into pathways of fire.

  “How did it start?”

  “Don’t know. He didn’t say.” He itched to call Dwayne back and get an update. Bad idea, it would just distract him.

  Did Dwayne know where the holding tank for the diesel was? He had to tell the firefighters before it fucking exploded. When was the last delivery?

  He couldn’t remember. He should remember. That was important information, the difference between a full tank that could take out half the neighborhood or an empty one that would cause a smaller disaster. What about the stockroom? What about all the chemicals? Paints and spar finish and—

  He gave in and dialed Dwayne back.

  “Holding tanks,” he said as soon as Dwayne answered. “Tell the firefighters.”

  “Yeah, man. I did. They’re here. They got it. There’s like three ladder trucks here.”

  “Okay.” He allowed himself to relax by a millimeter. “Good. Thanks, Dwayne.”

  “Wait, boss. I thought of something. Couple hours ago, some shady dude was here asking about you. Said he wanted to leave a message.”

  “A message? What message?”

  “He said we’d know soon enough. I almost called you then, but I thought he was just another one of the weirdos who come around here. Now I gotta wonder—”

  “Arson?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Tell the firefighters when you have a chance. Tell them everything.”

  “I will.”

  They hung up. He felt Gracie’s gaze on him. “Did you say arson?”

  “Dwayne thinks maybe.” It was sinking in now, the fear and anger. Who would try to burn down his marina?

  “But why?”

  “The fuck if I know. I don’t have any enemies that I know about. Okay, maybe Sophie. But she dumped me, and I don’t think arson is her style.”

  “Yeah, we can cross her off the list. Something insurance related?”

  “Could be. Maybe one of the owners let his insurance lapse and is trying to collect through mine?”

  “That would be diabolical, to burn down an entire marina for one boat.” Gracie shook her head. “What about Kaminski? We know he’s completely nuts.”

  He gritted his teeth against a wave of irritation. His skin felt on fire with impatience. “You saw him. You think he somehow made his way to San Diego and set my marina on fire?”

  “No. Of course not. Dumb idea. Sorry.” She put her hand on his thigh, which tensed immediately.

  “Don’t apologize. Actually, don’t talk. I don’t want to talk. Just get us there, okay?” He knew he was being a jerk but couldn’t help it. Every second in this car felt like a month.

  “On it.” She floored the accelerator, and they didn’t say another word until they made their last turn onto Ocean Street and the marina came into sight.

  Several fire engines blocked the street, and only a faint red glow lit up the low clouds overhead.

  “Maybe it’s out,” he said, peering for a good view. “Maybe it’s okay.”

  Gracie pulled over and parked behind one of the fire trucks. Mark jumped out of the car before it even came to a stop. He raced past the engine, where a lone firefighter was stowing a hose.

  “Hey,” the fireman shouted after Mark, but he didn’t stop. He needed to see for himself.

  As soon as he did, he stumbled to a halt.

  His beloved marina—the place he’d built up from a dilapidated collection of fish sheds into a thriving business—was nothing but a charred shell of its former self.

  Every single building had been at least partially burned. Even the Oc
ean Shores sign in the parking lot was blackened and hanging by only one chain. A sickening stench hung over everything, a nauseating mixture of smoke and diesel and rotting fish.

  A few firefighters were still at work putting out the last hot spots.

  What was the point? He thought dully. Nothing much left to salvage.

  And the boats—he forced himself to scan each ramp. Many of the boats had left their slips and headed for the open water. He could see them bobbing up and down outside the breakwater. The ones that were left…well, he really couldn’t tell, not at night, not when he didn’t know who was staying here.

  At the far end of one of the ramps, he spotted a small group that included Dwayne, Vick, a high school kid, and two fishermen. Some were sprawled on their backs, others sat on the ramp, dangling their feet over the edge. They all looked exhausted and filthy.

  Almost in a trance, he walked down the ramp toward them.

  “Mark,” Dwayne called as he came up close. “Hey, man. You just get here?” He came to his feet, painfully, and limped toward Mark.

  “Yeah. Drove as fast as I could. Guess I missed the whole thing.”

  “Nothing you could have done.” His voice was rough from the smoke. He opened his arms and gave Mark a tight, hard hug. It barely registered; he felt frozen. Paralyzed.

  “Sorry, Castellani. We tried,” said Dutch, still sprawled on the ramp.

  “Yeah. Thank you all.” He felt as if he was talking through the wrong end of a bullhorn, as if everything was echoing from a great distance. “Above and beyond. All of you.”

  Dwayne released him, his dark face lined with fatigue. “The firefighters got here pretty quick, but that fire was a mother-effer. I heard someone say ‘accelerant.’ I think the arson squad’s here.”

  “Yeah. No one hurt, though, right?”

  “No one’s hurt. We got ’em all out. Reminded me of the military. Pretty good drill we got going.”

  Mark scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Fuck. I don’t even know how to thank you. I should have been here. First time I go away in ten years and boom. A fucking fire.”

  Light footsteps came racing down the ramp, and he turned to see Gracie, with Mellow in her arms. Soot darkened the cat’s yellow fur, and he clung to Gracie. “Look who I found! He’s only slightly freaked out. He was hiding in one of the fire engines. I think he wants to adopt the firefighters. Hi, you guys. Let me guess, you all saved the day and got everyone to safety? I’m not one bit surprised. You’re all heroes.”

  Her bright smile made all the guys perk up. From his prone position, Dutch lifted his hand to high-five her. Dwayne gave her a fist bump. They returned her smile with weary grimaces.

  Except Mark. He couldn’t smile at her. Couldn’t really look at her. He stared down at the ramp, his hands shoved in his pockets. He should have been here. And he wasn’t because he’d been chasing Gracie around. His choice. His fault.

  But still, he should have been here.

  “What else did the guy say, the one who wanted to leave a message?” he asked Dwayne abruptly. “The arsonist.”

  “I keep trying to remember.” He wiped sooty sweat off his face. “It was busy at the time. At least three people here at once.”

  Dwayne’s definition of busy.

  “He didn’t seem local, and he didn’t seem like a boat guy, if you know what I mean. He said, ‘Is this Mark’s place?’ I remember it was strange because he didn’t use your last name. Mark’s a pretty common name, so why not narrow it down even more with a last name? Mark Smith, Mark Jones, Mark of the Devil, which Mark?”

  Impatient, Mark gestured for him to continue. “What time was he here?”

  “Don’t know exactly. Around seven?”

  “And when did the fire start?”

  “Right before I called you. What was that, ten, ten thirty? Few hours after. Maybe it’s nothing to do with it. But he stuck out, so I thought I’d tell you.”

  “And he asked for me by name. Just Mark.”

  “Yeah. That part I remember for sure.”

  Something was falling into place, just at the edge of his memory.

  “Maybe he didn’t know my last name,” he said slowly.

  Dwayne scratched the back of his head. “Somebody wanted to torch your marina even though they don’t know your last name? That’s cold.”

  Moving as if in a nightmare, Mark turned to Gracie, whose arms were still full of trembling orange cat. “What time, roughly, did you tell Laine that my name was Mark and that I owned a marina down here?”

  “What?” Eyes wide, she rested her chin on Mellow’s head. “I suppose it was around four, maybe. We checked into the hotel at five, right? So maybe an hour before that. Why?”

  “You didn’t say my last name.”

  “So? Why would she…why are you even…what does that have to do… I don’t understand.”

  He turned on his heel and strode down the ramp. He couldn’t look at her. He’d rather look at the smoking, blackened ruins of his business.

  She came racing after him. “Mark! What’s going on? What happened?”

  He kept going, loping down a stretch of the boardwalk that hadn’t been torched, then jumping onto the beach below. He heard a yowl, then a thump. Mellow must have jumped out of Gracie’s arms.

  His marina, gone. The Buttercup… He spun around, looking for his old boat. Why hadn’t he checked right away?

  Its berth was empty. A few smoldering planks floated on the greasy water.

  Good God. The Buttercup was no more. That meant everything was gone. Everything familiar and beloved and his.

  Gracie ran up behind him.

  He turned on her. “Let me be, Gracie. Swear to God, you gotta give me space right now.”

  “But Mark, there’s no way Laine had anything to do with—”

  “How do you know? Your goddamn intuition? Where was your intuition when my marina was getting torched?”

  Her mouth fell open, and he felt like a total ass, knew he was going too far, but he couldn’t stop.

  “Go, Gracie. I can’t look at you right now. You’re nothing but trouble. Why didn’t you just leave me out of it? This is because of you.” He swung his arm at the smoky devastation of the marina. “Everything was fine here until you showed up.”

  Shock rippled across her delicate face. “Mark, how can you say—”

  He grabbed at his head, which felt like it might break apart into fiery pieces. “Just go. I’m begging you. Go, now, before it’s too late.”

  “Too late?”

  “Before I ha— Just go!”

  30

  Before he hated her? Is that what he was about to say?

  Gracie turned and fled back to the boardwalk. She ran past the firefighters, ignoring their “watch out” and “take it easy, there.”

  Mark blamed her for the fire? How could he even think that?

  He was upset, that was all. He’d calm down, and then everything would be okay again. They’d go back to—

  What? Sleeping together? Roaming the West Coast trying to solve secrets from their respective pasts?

  She slid back into her Jetta and slammed the door shut.

  What if he was right? What if Laine, or someone connected to Laine, had set the marina on fire? But why? A message? A warning? A distraction? And why go after Mark and not her?

  You didn’t ever say where you lived. It was easy to find Mark’s marina. It was close.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered.

  From the backpack in the back seat, her phone buzzed. She reached for it and dug out her phone.

  She stared at the text from Laine’s number.

  I’m so sorry. It wasn’t me. Tell your boyfriend I’m sorry.

  Oh my God. It was true. The fire had been set because of her. She still didn’t understand why, but that part didn’t matter. Enough with the secrecy.

  She texted back, Are you saying this as my mother or a random stranger?

  Your mother, came her answer. But
I’m leaving. I’m sorry. Glad you two have each other. Goodbye. Don’t text again.

  Gracie threw the phone aside and buried her head in her hands.

  What a disaster. She’d found her mother only to lose her—and in the process, she’d lost Mark as well. He hated her now, and she couldn’t blame him. His beautiful marina had been destroyed because of her. It was because of her that he’d left the marina unprotected. It was because of her that they’d stumbled into some crazy situation involving Laine and an arsonist. It was because of her that they’d stayed in Malibu instead of coming down here.

  It was all because of her.

  She started up the car and backed down the street.

  No more. She wasn’t going to make any more trouble for Mark. Not ever again. She loved him…and she wasn’t going to hurt him anymore.

  “Goodbye, Mark,” she whispered as she reached the intersection.

  Turn left, and she could drive all night and make it home. Mark would never have to see her again.

  She made the turn and hit the accelerator. “I’d say ‘don’t forget me,’ but I guess there’s not much chance of that.”

  Laugh so you don’t cry. The Rockwell family motto.

  Maybe she was a bona fide Rockwell after all.

  Dawn whispered across his face like a ghost. Mark slowly opened his eyes and blinked at the graying sky. His body felt cold and stiff, and he smelled like a fireplace. Only one part of him was at all warm.

  That was his stomach, where something was purring loudly. He lifted his head and saw Mellow curled up on his midsection.

  He let his head fall back onto the sand. The night came back to him in bits and pieces. The phone call from Dwayne. The frantic drive down the coast. The fire. The fight with Gracie. After she left, he’d sat down in the sand and listened blankly to the waves. He must have fallen asleep out here.

  Not that he had anywhere else to go. No Buttercup. No stockroom. Sophie would probably take him in, but he’d rather sleep on the beach. The soft hiss of the waves had soothed him, just as it always had.