St. Nacho's 4: The Book of Daniel (7 page)

While he talked, something snakelike deep within me came to life and unwound. I didn’t like it, but he was right. It was a matter of time.

“We need to do a lot of serious research, but the more I look into it, the more promising it sounds. There’s a lot of money to be had for a project like this if we frame it right.” Al watched me, gauging my reaction.

That new, living something slithered through my limbs. A flood of adrenaline caused a landslide of doubt to spark a small flame of righteous indignation—an emotional disaster film à la Irwin Allen. “I can’t say I’m feeling the love right now.”

“I’ve been working on this for a couple of months. I’m almost ready with a proposal. I’ll pitch it formally in a couple of weeks. You’ll see when I have the numbers. There are still really tough times ahead, Dan. I don’t have to tell you it’s a wounded economy and the pain isn’t over yet. But there are places where growth is not only possible; it’s inevitable.”

I couldn’t put my finger on
why
exactly, but I started to feel sick. “I don’t know. Native American tribal gaming is—”

“This isn’t
gaming
. It’s card rooms. The money ventured belongs to the players, not the house. It’s focused on tournament play. We put together televised tournaments, get in some of the big players. There’s advertising money to be found, sponsorship money. There are entertainment companies, beverage companies, tobacco, the makers of high-end toys.”

“Wait. Toys?”

Al grinned. “Like your motorcycle.”

This was probably going to come between us. He was committed, and I was digging in my heels. But we were adults and professionals. We’d weathered disagreements before. “No. I’m not… I really don’t want to be involved in gambling on any level.”

“What, never? I need you to at least consider this.”

That was the most he’d ever asked of me, and he’d given me everything he had for years, damn it. His loyalty had never been in question. It paid to reward it. Yet my heart had started to hammer and not in a good way. I didn’t have any emotional investment in leaving St. Nacho’s intact, but as Al talked, what he said just seemed more and more…wrong. Not just wrong but dangerous.

All my senses called for him to stop.

Instead I sighed. “I’m not saying I’m interested in this particular project, but you’ve done a lot of work here. It seems to me that there’s a lot to be said in favor of purchasing the land on speculation. Find out everything you can. Be discreet. Stealth is key if we don’t want to alert anyone to our interest and drive up the price.”

“I’ll do that.”

What would I do with land around here if I had it
? Not a gambling center, that was for damned sure. “I’ll think seriously about your recommendations. You’ve always been spot-on, but I don’t mind telling you this one makes me feel…apprehensive.”

“Thank you for at least considering it. I can work with that.”

“I think that’s all for today.”

“Fine.” He straightened the papers he’d had me sign—with my new
official
left-handed signature—and placed them in his stainless steel briefcase. “Great, I’ll get back home in time for dinner.”

“Give Ellie and the kids my love.”

“Will do.” He stood, and I stood, ready to see him to the door. “Can I say something? Frankly?”

“Sure.” I trusted Al more than anyone except my brother. We’d been through a lot together. “Shoot.”

“Maybe you need to see someone. A counselor or something.”

“Yeah? What makes you say that?”

“Things are going to be different from now on. Nothing can change that. And it’s not just the arm. Of course, that’s an awful loss, but… You’re forging a whole new life. Your marriage is finished, and now you’ve gone over to the
dark side
.” He used air quotes. I knew he believed I was going through a phase. Like it was only natural for me to want diversity and quantity—to go on some bisexual kink odyssey—after a rather lackluster sex life with my wife. “Whether you wind up here or somewhere else, nothing is ever going to be the same. Ellie said she thinks you should find someone to talk to. I promised her I’d tell you.”

“Tell her you delivered the message, and thank her for me, will you?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you and Ellie meet me down in Pismo sometime and bring the kids. I found a place where you can rent horses to ride on the beach.”

He grinned, glad to be on safer ground. His wife and girls loved horses. “We would love that.”

“Then that’s a plan. Have Ellie call—”

I still had an executive assistant in my office up north, but since I’d slowed way down, I made my own appointments. I grinned. “Have her call
me
, and I’ll make all the arrangements.”

“Will do.”

I watched him head out the door and climb into his car. Since Livingston Properties had gone from a voracious real estate investment consortium with a focus on acquisitions to one that mostly oversaw the management of a number of properties, I’d shuffled and shifted and downsized. Due to the current financial climate and after that, my accident, Alvin and I had put a plan in place so LP could run with only the barest necessary day-to-day input from me. Six hours, maybe eight, three to four times a week—not the fourteen-hour days I’d been used to putting in.

I headed for the porch where I could light up a cigarette without hearing about it from Jake later on.

When I checked the mailbox, the overnight delivery from Bree was tucked inside. I didn’t really want to read what my father had to say. Surely, it was more of the same. He’d been young and unhappy, he’d handled it poorly. He’d learned from his mistakes and was trying to do better. He might say he had done better with his new family, as though my mother, Jake, and I were his practice pancake and that was perfectly all right.

“Not today.” I put the mailer, unopened, beneath the stack of bills and junk mail I always found in our mailbox.

A flutter of movement among the trees that surrounded our rented house caught my attention. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen it, the flutter of a hand-dyed peasant dress, a colorful ripple of fabric as whoever was wearing it darted for cover. In fact a number of similar incidents had been happening, over the weeks and months I’d lived in St. Nacho’s, and I had a pretty good idea who was behind them.

Well, I guessed.

It seemed I’d picked myself up a stalker or three. Sure enough, when I headed toward the street and looked around, the pavement was covered with chalk symbols in pastel colors and they looked an awful lot like the one Muse had scrawled on my coffee sleeve. I wasn’t imagining things.

I sat down on my padded chaise longue and lit up a cigarette while I gazed thoughtfully around me. From where I sat, I could hear the slight susurration of waves on the shore. There was a salty crispness in the air. Seabirds wheeled overhead.

Whoever had covered our sidewalk with seals and signs apparently had an ax to grind, but I wasn’t worried. Whatever they wanted, I wasn’t about to let it get to me.

Nothing could feel quite so benign as a warm spring day in St. Nacho’s.

So… For some unknown—and probably unknowable—reason, the Witches of Westwick were trying to freak me out. I blew out a long, thin stream of smoke and grinned.

Cool.

Chapter Seven

In mockery of everyone’s sadness, the day of the funeral turned out to be brilliant. Perfectly beautiful. The sky was a vast and clear cerulean blue, and the sun radiated down to bake the pale golden brown adobe facade of Iglesia Santo Ignacio. Not only did the crowds fill the church itself, the attendees overflowed into the social hall next door to watch on video monitors. Some folks milled around outside, having found no seat in either place but unwilling to go home without a chance to show their support to the families.

I watched the funeral from the banquet hall, but when the video panned the crowd, I saw Cam and JT in their dress uniforms. They sat with several members of the SIFD, somber and serious.

At the center of everyone’s attention, four closed caskets sat covered with sprays of beautiful white lilies and gladioli.

After mass, Cam and JT were among the many men who bore the caskets from the church to the cars waiting to take them to their final resting places. The receiving line was endless. After spending some time with their neighbors and friends, each family left to bury its dead.

The death of kids that young was unbearable. Unthinkable. Their deaths left behind too many broken hearts, and eventually people would start asking hard questions about blame and restitution. The families, united now in grief, would splinter under guilt and the exhausting process of starting over.

Everyone was already asking themselves what they might have done differently, and whether they could have averted the tragedy in the first place if only they had been a little more careful.

I cornered Cam after he talked with the families and told him to come with me. The look on his face was priceless—like I’d grown another head—but I’d done odder things since coming to St. Nacho’s. He blinked at me but didn’t argue. I imagined he was so surprised he followed me because he couldn’t think of a reason not to.

“Where are we going?” he asked when we got to my car.

“My place.” I caught him giving me a nervous sideways glance, and I laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m not coming on to you or anything.”

He was wary, and I didn’t blame him. I’d given him enough shit—stupid teasing like calling him the abominable fireman—that it made sense to look twice at an overture of friendship from me.

I wanted to tell him to relax—to prove that I could be a good friend. I wanted to tell him he’d given me a lot of food for thought with that crack about leading with my wallet. There weren’t a lot of people in my life who’d have the nerve to say such a thing to me. Then again, there weren’t a lot of people in my life, period.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” I told him. “About money.”

Cam shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe that wasn’t the most—”

“You were right. It probably does seem like I use that to keep from connecting. I admit I was blindsided by Jake and JT. It seemed sudden to me, and I handled their announcement badly. But regarding the boys who died… What was I supposed to do? Offer to resurrect them? I don’t know them. I don’t know their parents. But I wanted to help. So the first thing I thought of was funeral expenses. I’m not proud that I didn’t think of establishing an educational trust or a burn foundation in their name, I just… I didn’t think of those things, and I did think of funeral costs.”

“That was a practical suggestion. I felt bad about saying that, after. I didn’t have the right to tell you how to respond.”

“You had a point though. With Jake anyway. I used to lead with my heart. I can’t always remember how anymore.”

Cam shrugged. “He really looks up to you.”

“I know he does.” I recalled Jake’s face, hopeful, then crumbling to hurt when I admitted my inability to be optimistic for him. “I want him to be happy.”

“It’s what you do from now on that counts, Daniel.”

“I guess.” I pulled into my driveway and used my remote to open the garage door. “I’ll let you be my conscience from now on.”

“Don’t do that.” Cam looked down. “I’m the last person who should be telling anyone what to do about family.”

I wanted to pursue that, wanted to know more about where Cam came from and what kind of family he’d left behind to come to St. Nacho’s, but we’d arrived at my place, and I had some other things on my mind.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you the last few days.”

“Yeah?” Cam still wasn’t looking me directly in the eye. He rarely looked right at me, but that was the first time I considered how odd that was, since he was direct with everyone else.

“I discovered…” I swallowed. “I realized I wanted to do something for you. Maybe prove I don’t always think with my checkbook.”

“Jeez.” Cam shoved both hands through his short hair. “I regret ever saying that.”

“You were being honest. I appreciate that more than you know. You’ve always been really good to me. I haven’t made it easy.”

He chuckled. “No. You most certainly have not.”

“Come with me.” I got out of the car and came around to his side. “I have something, I thought…” Suddenly I was afraid to show him.

“What?” He got out of the car and stood there, waiting.

“I wanted to show you something. To share it with you if you’d like it. But it seems really dumb now.”

Cam gazed at me thoughtfully. He was still in his uniform, and I couldn’t help but notice how good he looked. At the same time he was distant. Maybe it was that—the air of command his uniform gave him that made me doubtful. Maybe I was afraid he’d see this as just another time when I threw money around to make a problem go away. But maybe he’d realize I’d been thinking about him, and I wanted to see him happy.

Cam grew impatient. “How will I know if you don’t just spit it out?”

I took him into the garage and pulled the tarp of my motorcycle with a sigh I couldn’t keep from escaping.

I fucking
loved
that bike.

I’d had it brought to St. Nacho’s and paid a mechanic to come down and maintain it regularly, knowing I couldn’t ride it. Knowing I might never ride again. Part of me wanted to sell it and part of me couldn’t let go, so there it sat in my garage under a sheet like a piece of furniture.

Cam’s eyes grew round. “Ducati?”

“It’s…yeah.” A Multistrada. I’d heard some of the firefighters rode when they were off duty, and I couldn’t think of a better way to blow off steam than to take out a bike or a better bike to take out. I sure the hell would have if I could. “Do you ride?”

“Yes… But…” He ran the flat of his hand over the seat as if he were afraid to touch it. “Nothing like this.”

“I used to ride all the time. I got this bike because it’s comfortable for touring. I thought maybe if we got away once in a while, Bree and I could bridge the gap growing between us. It wasn’t like we even talked anymore, and I had some crazy notion that we could get some matching leathers and ride up and down the coast or head out into the wine country on weekends. That it might help. I admit it was a pretty stupid idea.”