As Robby watched him leave, he noticed Vail standing beside Gifford thirty yards away, near the edge of the lake.
His discussion with Diego played back in his thoughts. He had killed a man—and he’d done it for revenge. That was something he would have to come to terms with. Was it the right thing to do? No. He could answer that without deep thought. But now, given who he was and what he did for a living—and what he was about to do—who would be served by his paying the price for his past transgressions?
But what gave him the right to serve as judge and jury? How many rehabilitated criminals could say they were devoting their life to catching other violent criminals?
He looked over at the clear IV bag hanging near his head. Too much to consider for now. As Yardley said, he had to get healthy.
“Hey.”
He turned and saw Vail and Gifford heading for him.
As they approached, music started blaring from the speakers, followed by the fountain’s jets shooting skyward. He recognized the song: Andrea Bocelli’s “Con Te Partiro.”
86
Gifford stood a little behind Vail, as if he didn’t want to intrude. “Do you—you have any plans for lunch tomorrow?” Gifford said above the din of the fountain show.
Robby laughed. “I think it’s safe to say my calendar’s pretty clear.”
“Good. Assuming you’re up to it, want to grab a bite with me? Before I head back home?”
“With
“No. Just us.”
Robby pursed his lips, glanced at Vail, then said, “Yeah, sure.”
Gifford nodded and then walked off.
Robby extended his bent elbow and Vail took it. She maneuvered the gurney toward the lake so they could watch the rest of the show.
“What was that about? Gifford asking me to lunch.”
Vail kept her gaze on the fountain. “You’ll have to ask him.”
The paramedic called to them from the open rig. “You ready? Gotta transport—”
“Give us a minute,” Vail said. “Till the end of the song.” She turned to Robby and studied his face, then leaned in close. “What’s wrong?”
He did not look at her. He was staring ahead, not following the arcing path of the fountain’s surging jets as they rapidly spread from left to right, across the expanse of the lake.
After a long moment, he said, “Just mentally and physically drained.” He lay there. Music blasted. Water sprayed. But none of it registered, not really.
Vail’s eyes narrowed. “But something’s on your mind.”
Here it was . . . the choice Robby had been dreading. What did it say about a man who can’t be honest with the woman he loves? What kind of relationship would that be?
But this is . . . different.
He bit his upper lip.
The music stopped playing and the fountain’s water jets went dry. Vail pulled back her arm and rested both hands on the side of the gurney. “Trust is important to me, Robby. Coming off my failed marriage with Deacon, trust is all I’ve got.”
Robby rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t know what to say. “I know. I’d say I’m sorry, but that wouldn’t really mean much. It doesn’t even come close, does it? What’s done is done.”
“But are you sorry?”
He didn’t answer for a long moment.
“Look,” she said, “I realize it’s not a black-and-white thing. I understand it’s complicated. But if you love me, like you’ve said you do, then we have to be able to tell each other things like that. We can’t keep secrets.”
Robby rubbed his face with his free hand.
“I’ll make this easy,” she said. “You apologize for not telling me about your undercover op, and I’ll apologize for blowing your cover. I showed your picture to Guevara, I leaned on him. He made the connection, and . . . well, I just plain blew it.”
Robby’s head snapped so quickly toward her his neck popped. “Apologize for—”
She looked at him, into his eyes, deeply. What was she thinking? He couldn’t tell. He was tired—no, exhausted.
“Will you accept my apology?” she said.
“For what?”
Vail appeared irritated she had to repeat her transgression. “For endangering your life, for nearly getting you killed.”
Normally she had a sense of what he was thinking. But right now, she apparently wasn’t getting a clear read.
“Tell you what,” he finally said. “Let’s forgive each other. Start with a clean slate.”
VAIL STUDIED HIS FACE. She loved this man. Was the trust issue something she could overlook? For now, yes. He apologized—and it seemed like he genuinely meant it. That was all she needed, to be able to relax her defenses and know there were no secrets between them. At least, that would be the case after Robby’s lunch tomorrow with Gifford.
Vail gently leaned her head against his. The emotional release of having Robby back, of touching him again, was like a river overrunning its banks. Tears spontaneously flooded her eyes and flowed down her cheeks. Whatever issues they still had to deal with were unimportant; they would work themselves out.
Robby wiped at her cheek with a thumb. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
But he fell silent, and as the seconds passed and he failed to elaborate, Vail pulled back and looked into his eyes. “What is it?”
“I . . . I . . . ” He looked down, hesitated, then brought his eyes up to hers and said, “I killed a man.”
She jutted her chin back. “The guy in the lake? C’mon, we’ve both killed people in the course of—”
“This wasn’t in the course of work. It happened a long time ago. When I was a teenager.”
Vail looked at him a long moment, searching his face.
“Because he was a murderer, a gang banger, and a drug dealer.” Robby bit his bottom lip, teared up, and then looked down. “And because he killed my uncle.”
Vail chewed on that, looked off into the darkness, then brought her eyes back to Robby’s. She took his hand and squeezed.
“I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to lose you, I didn’t know what you’d think of me, I didn’t—”
Vail placed a finger on his mouth. “You already know what I think of you.”
“Yeah, but—”