153
Boone takes her to Crystal Pier.
Her place is a yellow-taped crime scene, and she probably shouldn’t go back there soon, anyway. For a change, she doesn’t argue, just gets into a cab with him, and then lets him escort her into his home.
“Would you like a drink, Pete?”
She sits on the couch. “What do you have?”
“I have some wine in here somewhere,” he says, rooting through the cabinet under the kitchen sink. “I have beer and maybe some tequila.”
“A beer would be lovely, thanks.”
Boone pops open a beer, sits beside her on the couch, and hands her the bottle. She lifts it to her lips and takes a long drink, looking at him with wide eyes. He’s a little concerned that she’s in shock. “You want to talk about it, Pete?”
“There’s not a lot to say, really. I did what I had to do, that’s all.”
“You saved Johnny’s life.”
“Not before he saved mine,” she says. “I owe him a great deal.”
We both do, Boone thinks, and it makes him sad. They’d seen Johnny as they were leaving the precinct and he was coming in. He asked if Petra was all right, then thanked her, then looked at Boone and said, “None of this changes things between you and me.”
Boone didn’t answer him, just wrapped his arm around Pete’s shoulders and walked her out. But he’ll always be grateful to Johnny for going over to Pete’s. If he hadn’t . . . Boone doesn’t want to think about that “if.”
“Pete,” he says gently, “I’m going to assume this is the first time you’ve ever—”
“Killed someone?” she asks. “You can say it.”
“It isn’t an easy thing to deal with,” Boone says. “Even when you didn’t have a choice. You might want to think about . . . seeing someone . . . you know, to talk it out.”
“Why do I think you’ve been on the receiving end of that speech?” she asks.
“If I’d known,” Boone says, “that the cartels were in this, I’d never have involved you. And I’m really sorry.”
“I’m not,” she says. “I’m not sorry at all.”
Her remarkable violet eyes are wide and wet.
He leans over, takes the bottle from her hand, and sets it down. Then he pulls her close and wraps his arms around her.
She puts her face into his chest and sobs.
154
It seems like an hour later when she pulls away from him, sits up, and says, “Thank you for that.”
“No worries.”
“You’re a good man, Boone Daniels,” she says. She gets up. “I’m just going to splash a little water on my face and freshen up.”
“Are you hungry?” he asks. “You want some tea . . . something to eat?”
“Thank you, no,” she answers. “I think I’d just like to turn in.”
“You take the bedroom,” Boone says. “I’ll take the couch.”
She goes into the bathroom. Boone picks up the beer bottle, pours the remnant into the sink, and looks out the window. There’s something that still doesn’t make sense. The big money behind Paradise Homes came from the Baja Cartel, fine, but . . .
Petra comes out clad only in one of his T-shirts. She’s brushed her hair to a shine, put on fresh makeup, and looks beautiful.
She reaches her hand out and says, “I wanted this to be with a lovely, filmy negligee I bought for the occasion, and perfume and soft music and scented sheets, but I’ve done the best I could with what was to hand.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“Come to bed.”
He hesitates.
“Pete,” he says, “you’ve been in shock, maybe you still are. You’re emotionally vulnerable . . . I don’t want to take advantage.”
She nods. “I’ve been terrified, I’ve seen horrible things, I’ve taken a life and I don’t know how that’s going to work out, but right now I need life, Boone. I want you inside me and I want to move under you like that ocean you love so much. Now come to bed.”
He takes her hand and she walks him into the bedroom.
155
Petra sleeps the sleep of the dead.
Which, fortunately, Boone thinks, is just a metaphor, thanks to Johnny B.
That brings up another troublesome question. Who fingered me for the cartel? Johnny B was one of the few people who knew what I had on Paradise Homes.
No, Boone thinks. Couldn’t be.
So run it back, barney. Who else knew about Paradise Homes?
Bill Blasingame, of course.
Nicole. But it wasn’t her. Boone called her from the police station and she was all right. She’d almost gone to Blasingame’s house, and changed her mind.
Johnny and . . .
Dan and Donna.
The Perfect Couple.
He remembers his conversation with Johnny B the morning after the Schering murder.
No, Boone thinks, he didn’t. He didn’t even know about the tape. Boone goes out to the Deuce, digs around in the back, and reaches into the flipper where he hid the tape he’d made of Phil Schering and Donna Nichols. He pops the cassette into the tape player, fast forwards past their lovemaking, and watches the timer until it hits the morning before she left the house.
Donna says.
Silence, then,
“
