Twilight (13 page)

“What theory?”

He smiled. “The one you’ve been putting together in your head ever since the cops started to toss around allegations about Ken and drugs. Anyone capable of masterminding that kind of conspiracy would have a pretty good idea of how the media functions, wouldn’t you say? In fact, they would have to have been manipulating it all along.”

“I suppose.”

He reached over and clasped her hand. “Don’t look so depressed,
querida.
We will find the answers. First, though, we will have a good dinner. Seafood, I think. Brain food. Do you like shrimp?”

Dana nodded, though food was the last thing on her mind.

“Good, then. I know the perfect place.”

“Only if it’s my treat,” she said, thinking of how tight the budget must be for the head of a shoestring program like Yo, Amigo must be.

“It was my idea. I will pay,” he insisted, scowling at her.

His expression was so intractable that she backed down. She knew enough about machismo not to waste time fighting it.

“Whatever you say,” she said.

He chuckled at that. “Ah, I wonder how long I can expect such docility to last.”

“If you’re very lucky, until dessert,” she said.

“Then I will count my blessings until then.”

13

D
ana had kept her word. There had been no more interrogations over dinner, no snide remarks. It was the most pleasant, nonconfrontational time they had ever spent together, Rick concluded, feeling oddly out of sorts.

Ironically, he missed the quick-witted arguments, the sizzling tension. He missed the flash of temper in her eyes and even the snap of irritation in her voice. In fact, he found the sudden docility worrisome. It was still bothering him when he took her home.

He had just unloaded her cameras and equipment and tucked everything inside the front door when he caught her expression. She looked lost, so lost that he found himself inviting himself in for coffee, even though he knew that to stay was dangerous. Too much proximity and he wouldn’t be able to resist stealing a kiss, just to know the taste and feel of her lips beneath his.

When she didn’t say a word—not
go
or
stay
—he brushed past her and headed for the kitchen, leaving her no choice but to follow.

Since she seemed to accept him taking over, it was fortunate that the automatic coffeepot was in plain view, along with a bag of the gourmet blend he’d already discovered she favored. He busied himself for several minutes with the coffee. He searched the cupboards for mugs and the refrigerator for cream, then put it all down in front of her.

Seated at the table and staring into space, she seemed startled by the arrival of the steaming cup of coffee.

Rick turned a chair around backward and sat down opposite her. With an expanse of solid oak between them, he ought to be able to keep his hands to himself.

“Where’d you go on me?” he asked eventually.

She blinked and stared. “What?”

“You haven’t said much since we left the restaurant. What’s going on?”

She attempted to force a smile, but it wavered, then faded. “Just thinking, I guess.”

“About?”

When she didn’t respond, he hazarded a guess. “Ken, right?”

She nodded and lifted her gaze to his. Her eyes were brimming with unshed tears. “When we drove up here tonight, for some reason, it finally sank in that this was the way it was going to be from now on, coming home to an empty house, living with all this silence. I mean, intellectually I’ve known it before, but tonight I really felt it. I felt dead inside.”

Despite his promise to himself not to touch her, he reached across the table for her hand. It was icy cold in his. “You have three sons,” he reminded her gently as her skin warmed beneath his touch. “Soon they’ll be back here with you. The place will be so noisy you won’t be able to stand it.”

“It won’t be the same,” she insisted. “And we won’t be here, not in this house, anyway. The church has been very lenient about letting us stay on, but we’ll have to move eventually. I’ve already half made up my mind to go to Florida so we can be near my folks. The boys seem to like it there. The school is good. It would be a solution.” She said it without much enthusiasm.

“Short-term or long-term?” Rick asked.

“I don’t know,” she said candidly. “The choice is too difficult. I haven’t been able to deal with it. I managed to get the boys enrolled in school in Florida, because it made sense. They couldn’t languish in limbo, while I wrestle with the future.”

“Figuring out what’s right is never easy,” he said.

“And it’s harder when you’re not the only one involved,” she said. “I could come back here and cope somehow. I lived in Chicago before I met Ken. I could do it again. The boys will see him everywhere.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Rick suggested. “The memories will be important to them. They’ll treasure the unexpected reminders.”

Oblivious to the tears that were now tracking down her cheeks, she stared at him hopefully. “You sound so sure.”

“I am. You’ll never forget, but it will get easier. Just don’t look too far ahead. Stick with the moment.”

“I guess that’s what I did tonight,” she said. “I looked too far ahead. I saw our anniversary and the Fourth of July and Thanksgiving and Christmas—all of them without Ken. He made them so special.” She sighed, her expression wistful. “He made every day special.”

Rick felt a sharp stab of something that might have been pure jealousy. It was inexplicable, but he suddenly wanted to be the one with whom she made so many unforgettable memories. He wanted to make her days—and her nights—so special that she could never forget.

And he felt like the worst sort of traitor for thinking it, especially when he was the kind of guy who didn’t make commitments, didn’t allow anyone to get too close. Hadn’t that been his ex-wife’s charge when she left, that she’d felt as if she were living with a stranger? He hadn’t thought it possible that he could hurt Dana any more than he already had by inadvertently putting Ken in the line of fire, but he saw now that he could. He could offer her something he wasn’t capable of delivering.

“I’d better go,” he said, and stood up suddenly.

She stared at him in surprise. “You haven’t touched your coffee.”

“I shouldn’t be drinking coffee at this hour, anyway. I’ll never get to sleep.” Not that he’d be getting much sleep, anyway. He’d by lying awake, tormented by pure lust for a women who wasn’t his, a woman who’d lost her husband—his best friend—barely more than a month ago. Sick, sick, sick.

“Rick?” she said, her expression quizzical.

“What?”

“Does it bother you when I talk about Ken?”

It shouldn’t, he thought, but, by God, it did. “Of course not,” he said, denying the truth in order to clutch one tiny shred of honor.

“Are you sure? I guess I thought of all people, you would understand.”

He reached down and squeezed her hand. “I do,” he said. “I do understand, and it’s okay. Talk about him all you want. I swear to you, I’ll be a good listener, just not tonight, okay?”

Though her expression remained puzzled, she nodded. “Good night, then.”

Impulsively, he leaned down and brushed a kiss across her forehead. “Sweet dreams,
querida.
”

He was almost out the door, almost safely on his way, when he heard her footsteps tapping rapidly across the wood floors.

“Rick,” she called out.

He hesitated.

“Same time tomorrow? You’ll take me back to Yo, Amigo? Rosa’s pictures will be ready. She’s anxious to see them.”

He sighed. “Yes. At the same time,” he promised, even though it was going to get harder and harder to see Dana and to protect himself and Yo, Amigo from the harm she could do.

* * *

For the longest time after Rick had gone, Dana sat in the still-dark living room, staring into space. She was more confused, more lost than ever. She needed to make some sort of progress in solving Ken’s murder. That would give her a sense of purpose. It would also bring about closure, tie up all the loose ends and let her move on with her life, get back to her kids and give them the attention they deserved.

A fresh batch of tears leaked out, skimming down her cheeks, until her face and her blouse were both damp. Eventually she grew impatient with herself, tired of feeling vulnerable, exhausted by the uncharacteristic self-pity.

“Just get on with it,” she ordered herself. She grabbed the phone and, oblivious to the time, punched in Kate’s number.

Kate’s groggy hello instantly filled her with regret. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “You’re sleeping. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“No, no,” Kate insisted sleepily. “It’s okay. Is everything all right?”

“Sure,” she lied, “I was just wondering what you’d found out today. I forgot all about the time. I know you like to go to bed early so you can get up at the crack of dawn to see the kids off in the morning.”

“It’s not a problem,” Kate reassured her. “I didn’t learn anything earthshaking, though I do have a few people we might want to look at more closely. Do you want me to get the list now? It’s downstairs.”

“No. We can do it in the morning. Go back to sleep.”

“You sure you don’t want to talk? You sound upset.”

“No, really. I’m fine. I should try to get some sleep myself, as soon as I call the boys to say good-night. Mother will probably be furious because I’ll be getting them out of bed.”

“No, she won’t. She knows it’s important that they hear your voice before they go to sleep. Call, sweetie.”

“I will. Good night, Kate. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“I’ll see you first thing in the morning, and I’m going to want a full report on the kids. Give them my love.”

Dana disconnected the call, then dialed her parents’ number. Though all three boys were half-asleep and yawning in her ear, she was glad she’d made the call. She felt better, reassured that they were fine.

Afterward, still too restless to sleep herself, she took the memory card of the pictures she’d shot that afternoon to her computer. Though she’d intended the activity to be a distraction, she allowed her mind to wander.

Had she already met Ken’s killer? Was it one of the ex–gang members at Yo, Amigo? Or did they merely know more than they were saying? She wanted to believe it was someone like Marco, someone arrogant and rude, whose capacity for violence lurked in the shadows of his eyes.

There was no evidence of it, though. Not yet, anyway. Not even a telltale hint of guilty knowledge in Rosa’s eyes under Dana’s direct questioning.

When she tired of the questions with no answers, she made print after print, stunned by the results. She couldn’t help smiling at the Madonna-like quality of the pictures, especially those she’d shot in black-and-white. She had managed to capture the eternal serenity of the mother-to-be in Rosa’s expression, as well as an occasional flash of the sexy siren and, in yet another shot, an impish girl.

Pleased with the unqualified success of her afternoon’s work, she went back upstairs. She wandered restlessly for a bit, then eventually settled into Ken’s chair, the afghan tucked around her. Her body must finally be getting used to the cramped sleeping arrangement, or else she was just thoroughly exhausted. Tonight, for the first time in weeks, she fell right to sleep.

Her dreams, once again, were not of Ken, as they had been ever since his death. Instead, for the second time, Rick Sanchez was there to taunt her. It was one more thing to hate him for, she told herself when she awoke, her body drenched with sweat. He’d stolen the only time she still had left with the man she’d loved—the dark hours of the night.

In the morning, Dana drank two cups of coffee before making another call to Florida to check in on the boys before they left for school. She’d managed to evade most of her mother’s questions the night before, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to do it forever.

Her mother picked up on the first ring, as she always did, as though she couldn’t wait to hear what the caller had to say.

“Darling, how are you?” she asked, her voice laced with unmistakable concern. “I was hoping to get a chance to talk to you last night, after you spoke with the boys, but you’d already hung up by the time Bobby handed me the phone.”

“I’m fine. How are the boys doing? Tell me the truth. Are they okay?”

“They miss you,” she said bluntly. “When will you be back?”

“Soon.”

“How soon?”

“I can’t say for sure.”

“Darling, you’re not a private investigator anymore. Let the police handle the case.”

Dana found the familiar refrain irritating, but managed to keep her tone patient. “We’ve been over this. I have to do whatever I can to find Ken’s killer.” She thought of the planted evidence of drugs. “It’s gotten more complicated, more important than ever.”

“I wish there were some other way.”

“So do I, Mother, but there isn’t. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise. As soon as the case is solved, I’ll get our things packed up and come back there to start looking for a house of our own to rent,” she said impulsively.

“Then you are going to move here? You’ve decided?” There was no mistaking the excitement in her mother’s voice. “Darling, that’s wonderful. We’ll love having you and the boys close by.”

“We’ll give it a try, at least until the end of the school year. If the boys like it, we’ll make it permanent,” she amended hastily to give herself an out in case they all hated it.

“Oh, I can’t wait to tell your father. He’ll be thrilled.”

Dana closed her eyes and tried to share her mother’s excitement. All she felt was the relief of having made some sort of a decision, set some sort of a timetable. She tried telling herself it was the smart thing to do. What was there to keep them in Chicago, really, now that Ken was gone? Nothing.

Still, it was home. It was where she had begun her family, where memories lurked around every turn, just as Rick had said the night before. Good memories, as well as all these recent bad ones.

“The memories will come with you,” her mother said gently, as if Dana had spoken her thoughts aloud.

Dana smiled. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

“Because that’s how we all react to change. We fear that we’ll lose our link to the past. Don’t you think Dad and I worried about that when we first came here after he retired? We don’t lose those ties, though. I promise you. You’ll be happy here. You’ll have family close by. It will be good for all of you, you’ll see.”

“You’re sure you and Dad can handle the boys for a little while longer?”

“Of course we can. You concentrate on wrapping up your investigation and getting down here to join us.”

“I’ll be there as quickly as I can be.”

Apparently satisfied with that response, her mother let the matter drop. “I’ll get the boys. They’re dying to talk to you.”

“Wait a second,” Dana said, recalling her unfulfilled promise to Bobby. “I told Bobby I’d tell you that he’s allowed to stay up an hour later than his brothers.”

Her mother chuckled. “So, he did call you. I thought maybe he had. Okay, I’ll bend the rule for him.”

“He also mentioned that you never, ever give them pizza to eat.”

“I thought home-cooked, nutritious meals were better,” her mother said defensively.

“They are,” Dana agreed. “But pizza won’t hurt them once in a while. Do you mind?”