The Second Man (11 page)

“Andrew told me not to tell anyone about that.” Jill folded her arms. “I’m sure he won’t be pleased if it gets back to him that I sicced you and the feds on him.”

“My guy is a pro, and very discreet. As for your ex, do you want me to go with you to the Santa Barbara police and get a restraining order against him?”

Jill’s eyes widened. “I’ve thought of it, but really don’t know. What do you think?”

“I’d hold off. Andrew didn’t hurt your mother. He’ll say he was being a generous ex-spouse by paying her bill. I doubt he’ll go back there. And I doubt the police would consider what he did serious enough for a restraining order.”

“Should I tell Max that Andrew suggested he might be on the list of suspects?”

Dave met Jill’s eyes. “You haven’t said anything to Max yet?”

“No. I told Max about the burglary and the, you know . . .” She made a gesture with her thumb and index finger like a gun. “About how I shot Andrew by accident and why we divorced, but I didn’t tell Max he showed up a couple of days ago. Or about all this stuff with Ben Pierce.”

“I think you should keep all this to yourself for a little longer, then,” Dave said. “If you do tell Max, he’ll probably get angry and confront Andrew, as anyone would. Which could make figuring out what’s going on that much harder. Let me see what I can find out first.”

“Okay.” Jill sipped her coffee. “What do you think about the burglary?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is it connected somehow, to this thing Andrew was talking about?”

Dave blinked. “I’d trust the local cops take that it was kids, honey, but keep your doors locked. I doubt it had anything to do with anything else.”

“Okay, but I thought . . .”

“Don’t borrow trouble,” Dave interrupted. “It’s surely just an unfortunate coincidence.”

“My father always said cops don’t believe in coincidence.”

“They don’t. But that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.” He finished his coffee and set the mug down on the kitchen table. “So how was it, seeing Max after all that time? Is he the same guy?”

A blush crept over Jill’s face and melted into her hairline. “Good. Really good.” Briefly she filled Dave in on why Max had not contacted her all those years ago. “After hearing what happened, I don’t feel quite so humiliated.”

“Good. I like that he made the effort to seek you out, face-to-face, before the reunion. It would have been tough to run into him and find out then that he didn’t remember you.”

“I’ll say. Or if he’d seen Carly first. She’s been wanting to give him a kick in the shins for fifteen years. She might have beat him up.”

“My daughter is loyal to a fault. Hurt someone she loves, you hurt her. And face the consequences.” Dave stood. “I’m going to take off. Thanks for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks so much for your help.” Jill followed him to the door. “I can’t believe all this drama. I’m starting to dread answering the door for fear someone else from my past will be waiting there. One more reason to avoid this reunion.”

Dave hugged her and they stepped outside. “Don’t avoid the past. Especially as it is bringing Carly and her baby girl home for a while.” He hesitated for a moment. “Have you talked to her lately?”

“No, not for a month or so before she called the other night.” Jill crossed her arms over her chest. “Why? Is there something wrong?”

“I hope not. Just a dad’s instincts. She seems, I don’t know, unusually stressed over how much Hamilton is having to travel for business. I told her to get him to move back to the States, that we’ve got plenty of airports here he can fly out of. She said that it wasn’t an option.”

Jill put her hand on Dave’s arm. “You know Carly. She’s moody, and now with the baby, I’m sure she misses you more than ever. We’ll have a good girl’s chat night and I’ll make sure everything is okay with her.”

“Good. I know she misses you as much as she does me. Probably more.” He hugged her again and then hurried down the walk, waving to her from the car.

Jill locked the door and headed for the bedroom. Max had left the house in fine order, the kitchen cleaned-up, fresh sheets on the bed, everything tidy. Her college yearbook was on her dresser. She saw it had a piece of paper bookmarking a page, and opened it.

Max had left her a note on the page with her senior photo.
I look about twelve in that picture
, she thought. Eyes straight ahead, hair blown out and severe as a helmet, her mother’s locket at her throat.
Class beauty then and now. XXX Max
, he had written in bold black ink at the bottom of the photo.

Jill blinked.
He forgot he already signed this yearbook.

She turned to the back pages where there was a photograph of her and him, sitting side by side in St. John’s theatre green room.
My girl, once and forever . . . Love Maximilian,
he had scrawled in his beautiful penmanship.

She turned back to her class photo. The new inscription was carefully printed in block letters. She frowned. The handwriting did not look anything like the printing.

No one writes in cursive anymore with computers.

Max had changed a lot, so it should not be alarming that his handwriting was different, except everything was spooking her since Andrew came along with his conspiracy theories.

Jill closed the book.

She showered and shaved her legs. She thought back to last nights’ lovemaking, her insides warming in anticipation of another round tonight. Max was a much different lover now, much more skilled. She considered the ways she was different from her 21-year-old self, who Max did not remember.

Sometimes a faulty memory is good.
She smiled.

Thirty minutes later, Jill was dressed and her hair was blown dry. She piled a stack of clothes on the bed, underwear and a bathing suit and shorts for tomorrow, as she was sure she would spend the night at the hotel with Max. She added her cosmetic travel bag and grabbed a robe, then glanced around for a duffle.

It’s in the hall closet.

Jill went to the foyer and pulled open the door and flicked on the light. The space was jam packed due to the additional coats and boots from her mother’s house, but she remembered putting her canvas overnight bag inside the suitcase at the back.

She moved several things out of the way, finally spying the suitcase. She gripped it and tugged, pulling it along the left side of the closet near the peg where her dad’s gun hung in the leather shoulder holster.

She froze.

The holster was there, but it was empty.

The gun was gone.

Chapter 11

Max answered on her first knock. “There you are,” he said, sweeping her into an embrace.

Jill met his lips, touching his face with her hand, but returned his kiss with less enthusiasm than he was obviously expecting. She stepped out of his arms and walked into the middle of his hotel suite.

He shut the door. “What’s wrong? Where’s your bathing suit?” He smiled. “If it’s in that tiny purse of yours, I say we stay in and I’ll let you wear it in the Jacuzzi.”

Jill put her purse down and tried to keep her voice neutral. “Do you have my gun?”

Max blinked. “Whoa. That’s a strange way to say hello.”

“Do you have it? Did you take it without asking me?”

“Yes, I have it. And yes, I took it without asking you.” Max exhaled and nodded toward the bedroom. “Your father’s Beretta is in the safe in my closet. I bought bullets for it, and a locking case to store it in so you could keep it in your bedroom, not hang it in the closet where you wouldn’t be able to get it quickly if you needed it.”

His words chilled her. “So when I wasn’t there, you searched my house to find it, and then took it?”

“I didn’t search, Jill. You told me the gun was in your hall closet.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I would have asked you first, but I only thought of it after you left to take your mother to the doctor. You said it was an old gun, and that concerned me, so I dug it out of the closet and stopped at a shop downtown. It needs a good cleaning, by the way, according to the man at the hunting store.”

“You had no right to take it without asking me.”

Max’s expression tightened. “I’m sorry if I upset you. I didn’t imagine you’d be looking for it before I could give it back. But I was worried about what happened, about the break-in at your home.”

Jill could not smooth the upset from her voice. “I told you not to worry about that. The cops said it was kids.”

“I know what the cops said.” His green eyes darkened. “But I am worried. I wanted you to feel safe at night, even if I wasn’t there.”

“Thanks, but I am very used to be alone at night and I can take care of myself.” She turned and walked to the window, her lip trembling.

“Jill.” He put his arms around her waist. “
Karaste karlek
. We’ve started down a new path, but I hope you know I have every intention of seeing you after the reunion is over. I hope you feel the same way.”

Karaste karlek
meant dearest love. Max had called her that a million years ago.

Jill walked to the wall of windows, fighting for composure. There was a stunning view of the ocean from his room. The water stretched forever, glimmering and opaque as the future.

“I’m feeling foolish for being so impetuous,” she said. “I’m not twenty-one anymore. It’s not like me to let a relationship develop so fast.”

“Don’t fight what you feel.” Max crossed the space and stood near her. “I’m not. I may not remember the past, but every minute since I saw you last Friday, you’ve been on my mind. I feel the attraction between us. Something more than memories. I know you feel it too.”

She turned. “I do feel something. But I’m afraid I might be confusing the past with the present. I don’t really know you at all anymore. And I’m not used to having you in my life, worrying about me. Doing things for me. I’m not used to anything that’s going on right now.”

“I understand.” Gently he slipped his arms around her waist. “You have a lot of upset to cope with, aside from me showing up.”

She tried to smile. “Yes, I do. And I appreciate your concern about my safety. But it was shocking to find the gun missing.”

“Did you think I stole it? For some nefarious reason?” He tightened his grip on her.

“I just didn’t know what to think, Max.”

“I see.” He dropped his hands to his side.

Jill tensed.
He doesn’t see. He doesn’t know about the ridiculous things Andrew said. Or Dave’s words of caution.

She cleared her throat. “I’m going to go. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She grabbed her purse from the table and faced him. “Would you please get my gun?”

“Of course. But don’t leave like this.” He put his hands back on her. “Stay and talk. This, whatever it is that happens to me when I’m in the same room with you, means something real is between us. Don’t be afraid of it just because it’s unexpected.”

For a moment, Jill struggled to keep her emotions in check, but the sincerity in his voice undid her. She laid her face against his chest, gasping as a rush of varying emotions tore through her body.

Rubbing her back as if she was a child, Max held her so tight she felt his heart beat against her own. After a couple of moments, the storm of emotion passed and Jill moved out of his arms.

She ran her hands through her tangled hair. “I’m a mess.”

“You might feel like one.” His voice was gentle. “But you are not a mess. You’re stunning. I was overwhelmed with how beautiful you are, the minute you answered your door. More beautiful than those pictures of you as a girl.”

She lay her hand on his cheek. “This is so strange. I knew you as a boy, and now again as the confident man you are. But you only see me as a thirty-five-year-old woman with a lot of issues and a propensity to weep.”

He kissed the side of her wrist. “Tears are an expression of the truest emotions. Come lay down and rest. Sleep. Then I’ll order dinner and we’ll have a quiet evening, and share everything we can think of to share. Let me take care of you tonight, Jill. Don’t worry about anything for a few hours.”

“But I didn’t bring my things . . .”

Max smiled. “You can use my things. My yellow shirt was a good fit,
ja?
”

At last she relaxed. “
Ja
. It did.”

Two minutes later, she lay down on Max’s bed. He sat and massaged her back and shoulders until she felt boneless. They laughed about his inherent aptitude as a Swedish masseuse.

Max lay beside her and she slept for hours.

When she woke, Max ordered room service. Waffles, eggs, and bacon at midnight.

She took a bubble bath and then they made love. The passion she had for him the night before amplified into a deeper, more urgent need as she learned more of his most intimate likes and wants.

Hours later, she swam out of a black sleep. The room was dark and the heavy drapes were closed. Jill fumbled for her bag on the bedside table and dug out her phone, shocked it read ten twenty a.m. on Wednesday. It felt as if a week had surely passed since she had last checked.

There were calls. Two from private number. And one from Dave Hart a few minutes ago. She hit voicemail.

“I’d like to come over this afternoon,” Dave said. “There are some things I need to discuss with you. Call me back.”

“Round two of room service? Shall I order more waffles?” Max asked from the doorway.

Jill hurriedly put the phone down, feeling a stab of guilt. She stretched her arms in the air and allowed a very contented yawn to roll out of her mouth. “No. Just coffee please. I’ll jump in the shower.”

Max came to the bedside and dropped the newspaper beside her. “I’ve already had a pot brought up. And croissants. Come sit with me by the window. It’s sunny and warm outside and you can see all the way to the Channel Islands.”

“Sunny and warm, in other words a standard-issue California day. Let me shower first. I won’t be long.”

She joined Max a few minutes later, her wet hair tied in a knot on top of her head. He had a toothbrush and toiletries sent to the room, but she had only lipstick and a compact with her.

He’s going to see exactly what I look like in the morning
she thought, sitting down next to him and pouring a cup of coffee. “What a great suite. Your business must be doing well.”

“It is. And I need a bit of space, and a nice view.” He grinned at her. “Will you come with me on a trip soon?”

“School is over mid-June. I’d like that, but I’ll have to see how my mother settles in. Do you travel a lot?”

“I do.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You look like a teenager this morning.
Vacker flicka
.”

Beautiful something, she remembered. “Don’t stare too closely.” She tore a piece of the croissant off and ate it. Her lips were bruised, and she smiled when she touched them, remembering.

“What shall we do today?” Max asked. “Do you want to go to the ocean? I can rent surfboards.”

“It’s too cold this time of year for that. And I need to head home for a few hours. I have to go to the bank and . . .” Jill stopped before she said,
and get Andrew a check for $20,000.
“But I should be free by dinner. We can grill again, or we can go out.”

“I’ll handle dinner arrangements. We’ll drive up the coast a ways.”

“That sounds great.” She sipped her coffee. “What will you do today?”

Max glanced at his watch, an elegant Patek Philippe with a well-worn leather band. “I need to make some calls. And I am going to meet with a potential client at four this afternoon. He lives in Solvang.”

“Oh, Solvang. You’ll love it there. Is Danish food very different from Swedish? You can get some on every corner.”

“I do like it. The Danes feel they are superior to us Swedes, who they say eat rotten herring too often, and the reverse is true, of course. Lots of competition between Copenhagen and Stockholm.”

“You both have beautiful queens.”

“
Ja
. But ours is prettiest.” He touched his dark, silky head of hair. “She’s dark like me. No one is suspicious of my being not blonde anymore.”

They both laughed.

“Why don’t you come with me? If you’re done with your errands by three, we can drive up together and you can eat
wienerbrod
and coffee while I meet with my client.”

“
Wienerbrod
?”

“It’s what you Americans call Danish. Apples, pastry. Frosting. Yummy.”

They chatted and Max tried to tempt her with an invitation for one more trip to bed, but Jill demurred and was on the road back to her house by eleven. She stopped to visit with her mother, who was listless and non-responsive, despite the change in medications.

It took her an hour to finish the banking and grocery chores, and she arrived back at her townhouse at a little after one.

She took the gun out of the trunk and put it away carefully, and then stashed the cashier’s check under her mattress. She poured a glass of wine and went to the living room to call Dave Hart.

He did not pick up, so she left him a message that she would be home until about seven. “I know Carly and Ham are coming in tonight, too,” she added. “So whatever works. I can make myself available tomorrow, if that’s better. Thanks again, Dave.”

She walked through the entry and out the side entrance into the garage, determined to find Andrew’s business card. Since the universe had obviously decided this was the day to bury old, broken relationships, the sooner she gave him back his bribe money, the sooner she could blot out his reappearance in her life.

Jill emptied the trash barrel contents onto newspapers on the garage floor and used the broom handle to sift through it. She found both pieces, but they were soaked with coffee grounds, the phone number illegible.

Cursing under her breath, Jill bundled the trash back up, and went inside to shower and dress. She missed the call from Dave Hart, but he left a message he would be over at three unless he heard from her.

At 3 p.m. on the nose, he rang the bell.

“Come in, Dave.”

He seemed anxious.

“Can I get you some coffee or something?” she asked.

“No, nothing for me.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek and stepped inside. “Let’s sit down. I have a lot to tell you.”

She followed the ex-cop down the hallway into the sunny living room, sensing the tension in him. She sat on the sofa and he took the chair opposite.

“So what’s up?” Jill folded her hands together tightly.

“As far as I can find out, part of what Andrew Denton told you is true.” Dave leaned his elbows on the knees of his khakis.

“Yeah? What part?”

“Ben Pierce did work for the ATF. And he was found murdered in December at a hotel in Paris. The story was never released to the public. There is an active investigation into his death, and the authorities are particularly interested in members of your graduating class.”

“Why?”

“Evidently Ben called his supervisor the day he died, shared that he had run into a college classmate, and commented that there was something off about the guy.” Dave clenched his hands together. “My buddy at the FBI said Pierce was killed that same night.”

“Did Ben’s boss ask the guy’s name?”

“Yes. But Pierce wouldn’t tell him.”

“Why?” Jill felt uneasy at the look on Dave’s face.

Dave leaned across the desk. “We don’t know. The best guess ATF has is Ben wanted to check the guy out more before he said anything else officially. In his line of work, if this unknown friend worked in the security or financial markets, any formal inquiry could ruin the guy, even if he wasn’t involved in anything shady, which is what the boss thought Ben meant.

Jill put her hand on her head. “It sounds like the Ben I remember. He was always kind, and careful. I don’t remember him every gossiping about anyone.” She looked at Dave. “How was he killed?”

“Shot. And the hotel room was set on fire.”

“Oh my god, how horrible.” Jill covered her mouth. “His sister, Marissa, is in charge of the reunion. It’s strange she hasn’t sent an email or anything out about Ben’s death.” She shook her head. “It’s amazing she’s holding it together enough to be running an event like this.”

“I doubt she knows the real story about her brother. They may have simple told her Ben died in an accident.”

Jill’s face felt tight. “Andrew didn’t say anything about that part of the story.”