Blood Relations (44 page)

“Oh, God. didn’t mean that.” She picked up her camera bag, then put it down again. “I don’t know what to do, Sam.”

“It’s more my problem than yours.” He grabbed her wrist. “I don’t want you to worry. I love you.”

She stared at him. “Don’t say that.”

“I love you, Caitlin. You want to hear it again?”

Her face was pale. “What’s going to happen?”

He said, “I don’t know yet, but it’s going to work out.”

He pulled her close. “When can I see you?”

“Not right away. We both need some time to think.”

He tightened his grip on her arms. “Don’t go back to Frank Tolin. I’ll kill him before I let him touch you .”

again.

“Sam!” She was horrified and pleased.

“If he comes near you, I want to know about it. You hear me? Caitlin?”

She nodded.

Sam went over to pick up the portraits of Matthew.

He held the envelope, turned it one way, then the other.

Finally he said, “You’re right. I don’t know what to tell Dina. I’ll have to think about that, do it the best way for everybody.” He extended the envelope to Caitlin.

“Keep them for me awhile. I promise you, it won’t be for long.”

nunning at dawn, Sam pressed his forehead into his upper arm to wipe the sweat out of his eyes. The humidity 11was so thick he could chew it. His clothes were soaked and clinging to his skin.

It had been a day and a half since he’d made love to Caitlin Dorn forty hours, and there hadn’t been one of them when he hadn’t thought of her. Asleep, he had dreamed of her. He couldn’t look at a telephone without wanting to pick it up and hear her voice. He had called her close to eleven o’clock last night from a convenience store, keeping it brief. Hello, how’s it going? This was so fresh he didn’t want to jinx it. Before he made love to her again-and it wouldn’t be on the floor in a storage room-he’d have to straighten things out with Dina.

Things would be done the right way. Or as close to right as he could get. Tuesday afternoon he’d come home just before Dina arrived, his emotions slamming between exhilaration and dread. He’d thrown his underwear and shirt into the washer, showered and dressed, then took his slacks out to the car to drop off at the cleaners. Neither Dina nor Caitlin deserved to be lied to; he wouldn’t do it anymore. There had to be some honesty. Some consideration.

The lawns of the houses he passed were dewy, and the cars dripped as if it had rained last night. Silvery drops of condensation hung suspended at the point of every leaf and pine needle. Closer to his own house, Sam could see how overgrown the yard was getting. The grass was mowed, because the yardman came every week, but he hadn’t trimmed the flowers and hedges. Dina reserved that job for herself Lately, though, she hadn’t shown much interest. Her obsession with gardening was gone, and she’d been putting in more hours at the office, the way she used to. Sam considered this an indicator. He had spent a considerable amount of time trying to predict how Dina would react when he told her he wanted out. She would be angry, but she wouldn’t dive into another depression. Since their raging argument about Caitlin Dorn three weeks ago, Dina had turned her back on him in bed.

He hadn’t touched her, and she hadn’t seemed to care.

The wrongful death lawsuit hadn’t come to anything, and wouldn’t, but it had at least given Dina a way to get over her grief. Now Sam could insist on ending their relationship with Frank Tolin. He didn’t know exactly what he would say to Frank, but he had promised Caitlin not to mention her name. Frank, it looks like this case is at a dead end-you come near Caitlin again, I’ll kill you-so let’s just call it off.

Aware of his own calculations, Sam had thought about elections in November. Not smart, leaving a wife of twenty-two years for a former model, a prime witness in a highly visible prosecution. Better to wait-but till when?

Till he was divorced? Till he was sworn in as state attorney? To wait would be a gross hypocrisy, but he didn’t want to rush into a decision without thinking it through.

At forty-six, a man had to be a little more careful.

As he jogged slowly up the driveway, cooling off, a minivan stopped in front of the house. He waved. The carpool mother inside, whose name he didn’t know, waved back. Melanie hurried out the front door with her book bag, pretending he wasn’t there. She finally gave him a grudging smile as she got inside the minivan, embarrassed that her father was out in the front yard dripping sweat into his socks.

He didn’t know what to do about Melanie. Maybe she was at the age when kids had to be angry at the parents, he’d heard that somewhere recently. She didn’t get alon@ too well with her mother, and if she wanted to live with him, that would be fine.

7 There would be some adjustments to make, and maybe Melanie and Caitlin wouldn’t like each other at first, but with some reason on all sides, it would work out. Caitlin couldn’t have children herself, so she might become fond of his child. As for marriage-Sam couldn’t think that far ahead, but sooner or later the subject would have to come up. He couldn’t live with her unmarried. Not with Melanie to consider. Or his career. It couldn’t be done.

It worried him that Dina would be vindictive. She had a tendency that way. He had thought of divorce lawyers, property agreements, alimony. He would give the house to Dina, along with money to run it. Before Matthew died, she had been earning good money as a CPA. He’d have to pay alimony, but it wouldn’t last forever, once she was back on track. Sam would find an apartment with a goodsized room for Melanie, near here so she wouldn’t have to change schools. He would damn well have to be elected state attorney to afford it all.

In the last day and a half, Sam had tried to apply some logic to the process, difficult because his own emotions were so shifting and tangled. But there had to be a solution, a way to balance duty, love, and common sense. If not a perfect solution, then at least an honorable one.

Sam trotted upstairs with an old towel around his neck.

In the bedroom, Dina glanced at him from where she stood by her dresser, naked except for her panty hose. She picked a bra out of a drawer. At forty-four, her hips and breasts had softened, and a C-section scar marked the pale skin of her belly. Sam had seen his wife’s body thousands of times, but now he felt embarrassed.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he said, and mopped his face with the towel. Walking past the bed he noticed her suitcase on the end of it.

She said, “I’m going to drive to Tarpon Springs right after work. You don’t mind, do you? I’ve already told Melanie. I’ll be back Sunday.”

Three days unexpectedly free. But three more days in limbo. He said, “Why do you have to go this weekend? I was hoping we could talk.”

She looked at him a moment more, then took a white silk blouse off a hanger and put it on. “Tell me now, Sam.” She buttoned the blouse and waited for him to speak. Somehow she knew. She had guessed. I know what’s in your heart, she had once said. She had known before he had. “Is it the same woman or someone else this time?”

Letting out his breath, Sam hung on to the towel around his neck. “Dina, I didn’t expect this. I never wanted—2’ “Let’s skip the part about how much you regret hurting me.” She went into her closet and came back out with a deep green suit.

He said, “All right. Above anything, I want us to be honest with each other. We haven’t been happy. It started before we lost Matthew. Before I got involved the first time. You told me he knew about it. Maybe if I’d said something three years ago, if we’d worked it out then, things would have been different. So now what? Do we die along with him? Grow old with our backs to each other? Dina, we’ve got a daughter, and she has to know that love means more than that.”

A smile was playing at the corners of her mouth. “Only a lawyer could invent such a creative excuse for adultery.”

He felt a prickling of anger. “What do you want me to do?”

“Do? I think that’s your decision.”

“No, it’s ours. Do you want me to move out?”

“I want you to die of a heart attack.” She zipped her skirt.

“Great.” He raised his hands and moved toward the bathroom. “You think about it over the weekend. We’ll talk when you get back.”

“I have thought about it,” she said. Her voice was trembling. “That’s why I’m going to Tarpon Springs, to see if we could live there again. Is there work for me? A good school for Melanie? We have to get out of here. Sam, come with me.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Does being the next state attorney mean more to you than your family?”

He said, “Dina, going to another place won’t fix what’s wrong with us.”

She looked at him for a moment longer, then turned her back to fasten her earrings and necklace at the mirror.

Gold glittered against her skin. “Do what you like. I despise this city. Human beings weren’t meant to live here.

It’s only rock dredged up out of the swamps, with a thin layer of sod so we’ll forget what’s underneath. There’s going to be another hurricane sooner or later. It’s all going to go.”

She turned away and her hands fell to rest on the edge of the dresser. “No loss. Let it go. We could have had a good life together. But we wanted too much. Such pride.

We’ve been undone.”

“I am sorry,” he said.

“Yes, I suppose you are.” Dina put her feet into her high heels, standing regally now. She picked up her jacket. “I honestly don’t know what to tell Melanie.”

Dina’s eyes met his again, burning with dark intensity.

“What you’ve done is sinful. Nobody uses that word anymore, do they? Sin. Wickedness. There’s no eternity anymore and no punishment, and therefore everything is permitted.”

“That isn’t how I feel,” Sam said. “I’ve got responsibilities and I won’t walk out on you or Melanie. Hire a lawyer if you want to. I won’t argue.”

“Oh, yes.” She laughed. “You’d better hire one of your own, because I’m going to make you pay for this.”

The anger was building, but Sam held it back. “There’s one thing I insist on. We need to let Frank Tolin go. The lawsuit isn’t getting anywhere.”

“Is that the reason? Call him, then. I’d love to hear what you say.” She took the suitcase off the bad. “You’re such a romantic. It’s your power she’s attracted to, darling.

Women like that always are. Why, Sam Hagen is the deputy chief of Major Crimes. And soon to be state attorney. But do you really think you’ll be elected, with her around your neck? And then what will you have?” Dina’s smile faded. “I’m sorry, too, Sam. Sorry for us all.”

The girl in the pink plaid dress looked lovely in the viewfinder, Caitlin thought. The light filtering through the pine trees gave her smooth skin a lustrous glow and put some nice highlights in her brown hair. She pressed the shutter, advanced the film, then took a few more shots. The telephoto and tripod were borrowed. The old Nikon was the only camera Caitlin had left, but it was still good enough to take photos of a beginning model.

She was about twenty years old, tall and big-framed.

She’d be doing the plus sizes, if she could get some bookings. She would pay Caidin a hundred dollars and costs for some color pictures to show the agencies.

in a small park near the bay side of Miami Beach, Caitlin had found the perfect spot for some candid photos.

There was a rundown mansion across the street, which would look good out of focus in the background. They weren’t so far from Paula DeMarco’s house. Caitlin felt safe. So far, Frank Tolin hadn’t found where she was living, or else he had grown tired of harassing her.

“What a mooooo,” Ali Duncan said under her breath. 1@ “Shhhh,” said Caitlin, looking through the viewfinder again. Ali had asked if she could come watch the shoot.

Caitlin had said yes, but only if Ali helped out. Caitlin was short one assistant, with Tommy Chang taking final exams, and no money to pay him anyway.

She stepped away from the camera and called out, “Jennifer! Your bra strap is showing, honey.” Jennifer’s mother, who had come along to do hair and makeup, rushed forward with some pins.

“Caitlin?” Ali was winding a pine needle around her forefinger. Her hair was stuffed inside a ball cap, and she had her sunglasses on, still incognito.

:‘What?”

‘I think I’m going to France.”

Caitlin was aware of her mouth falling open.

“I mean, I want to go to France, but I have to explain it to Mr. Hagen?” The statement curled up into a question.

“And I don’t know what to tell him and everything. How about like if my dad in California got sick. Or I died.

Could you talk to him? You’re friends and everything.”

“Wait. What are you saying? France?”

“Well, I sort of … got a job. It’s for Marie Claire magazine. For August, I think.”

“That’s wonderful! Of course you have to go. Just give Sam a way to contact you for trial.”

“No, I don’t think I can come back, not for like a year or something, because I’ll be totally busy.”

Caitlin stared at her. “Who arranged this, Ali?”

Ali kicked at a rock. Her shoes were neon-green plastic.

She said, “Tereza Ruffini.”

“Oh, no.

“I have to, Caitlin. It’s my chance.”

“My God! You believe them? They’ll take you over there and dump you. You’re being used. Don’t you see that?” Her anger was out of proportion, and not only for Ali.

“I can handle it! You couldn’t when you were young, but I can! What have I got here? Nothing. Nobody will hire me on South Beach, I can’t stand living with my mom, I don’t have any money-” She made a little scream of exasperation, then said, “Caitlin, please. Can you talk to him? Tell him I had to leave.”

A voice came from under the trees. “Yoo-hoo! I fixed her bra.” Jennifer’s mother was waving. “I think we ought to take some pictures sitting down. What do you think?”

Caitlin muttered, then called back, “Sure. Give her the chair.” While Jennifer arranged herself on a folding chair, Caitlin stared at the rocky ground, carpeted thickly with pine needles. “I can’t lie for you, Ali.”

“It’s not like it matters. I’m the one this happened to, and it ought to be my choice what to do about it, okay?”