“Yes. I’ll pay for it.”
“I have a gig.”
“A gig? Or an audition?”
Michael knew that Martin was taking fewer and fewer modeling jobs, that he was trying to break into TV and the movies. In fact, he’d made noises about moving to LA.
“An audition,” Martin said.
“You can go to the audition, Martin, or you can come here and stay with me. I need comfort right now.”
“But I just got back.”
“Martin, I need to be able to depend on you.”
“But this part might be—”
“My goddamn
There was silence on the other end of the line. Michael knew that Martin was thinking about all the clothes, the shoes, the renovations to his apartment—hell, the apartment itself. He was thinking of all the trips they’d made together—Milan, Florence, Paris, Berlin, Sydney.
Martin said, “Okay. Book me a flight, though, will you? It has to be first class.”
“You’re already booked.” Michael gave him the information.
After that Michael sat in the solarium and listened to music, mostly jazz. Jazz felt just disorderly enough. The music was all over the place, and so were his feelings. His mind ranged over his memories of Chad. But try as he might to summon up a picture of his little brother, he couldn’t quite see his face. Over the years, Chad had kind of …disappeared. Chad had always seemed to be swallowed up by this house. By the presence of their father, who dominated over everything and everyone.
Michael had changed out every piece of furniture, relaid the floors, even expanded the room, but his father still dominated this place.
He could move. But the truth was, if he moved, his father would win.
He wasn’t going to be driven off his land, he wasn’t going to give up the DeKoven homestead.
Maybe it was the music. His father liked jazz. He put on something frenetic—AC/DC.
Sang along with “Highway to Hell.”
Finally, his mind began to skip to other things.
Flying back from LA, he’d looked down at the Santa Anas, remembering his kill. Farley’s death was a triumph of logistics and planning. Elaborate, yes, but also rewarding. Michael had pitted his brainpower and his physical strength against a knotty problem. It had taken athletic prowess and toughness to carry out the mission. Dragging Farley up to the pool was no easy feat.
His sadness was beginning to creep away, replaced by satisfaction of the game he’d played with Peter Farley.
Chad had a good life. They’d let him live his lifestyle out there, never bothered him. Supported him.
The more he thought about it, the more likely it was that Chad’s death had been a random killing. Probably by an acquaintance. Someone on crystal meth or bath salts—something like that. They were all pretty doped up around there. Michael thought that a hippie or surfer dude could just as easily be former military, or could learn the chokehold he used from a book. There were all sorts of bad people in the world, and they had their obsessions. They had their own way of doing things. Michael had met a lot of them.
In fact, he
CHAPTER 37
Danny was now the proud father of a baby girl. Elena was the most beautiful little girl in the world. He knew he was biased, but that didn’t alter the facts. Everything had changed, and really it had changed overnight. Now there was another human being here, with a personality he thought he could already see.
He felt as if his heart encompassed the whole world, and yet his gaze was brought down to a tiny little girl with tiny little fists and eyes squeezed shut. He knew he would fight to the death for her. This new little person he already loved beyond himself.
He tried to concentrate on his work—paperwork, which was endless in a sheriff’s detective’s job. He tried, but it was hard. Theresa was asleep, and although he wanted to wake her and share with her this great feeling, he knew she needed rest.
So when his phone buzzed, he got up quietly from her bedside and walked out into the hallway, where the sun threw down squares of brightness in the hospital corridor.
The readout said Pat Scofield, George Hanley’s daughter.
He wondered why she was calling now. Neither she nor her husband had made a peep since the day Danny and Tess had delivered the news. Not one phone call. Pat Scofield had answered his questions dutifully over the phone, as if she didn’t care.
He answered.
He heard the edge to her voice right away.
She talked quickly—scared. “I’m sure I just saw my brother-in-law drive by the house,” she whispered.
“Your brother-in-law?”
“He was married to my sister. He…I thought I’d never see him again. I thought he went to California.”
She was blurting out things that made little sense.
“Slow down,” Danny said. “Take a deep breath.”
He didn’t like her. From the moment he’d met her he didn’t like her, and now she was taking precious time away from his time with his new daughter. But this was his job, and he had to listen. It was important that he do the job right. For the victim, if not for the people left behind. He had met countless people like Pat Scofield. They sucked up all the energy in the room into themselves, and returned nothing.
“He was married to my sister. He moved to California after my sister died. I thought I’d never see him again but I think he was here.”
Danny leaned closer into the phone, spoke softly. “You’re afraid of him?”
“I shouldn’t be, I know, but…I don’t like him. He’s never had anything to do with us but I think it was him. I was cleaning the front window and I saw him drive by. He slowed down.”
“Why would you be afraid of him?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You’re not sure?”
“I just saw him drive by and slow down, and I remembered some of the things he did.”
“What kind of things?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it was my imagination. I shouldn’t have called.” But she didn’t hang up.
Danny said, “Can you describe him?”
“I haven’t seen or heard from him in eleven years. Maybe longer than that. Right after we buried Karen, he moved to California. Just upped and left, like he was footloose and fancy-free.”
Danny was sensing there were old wounds here, possibly imaginary, but you could never count on that. “You want me to come by?”
“No, no. I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“Look, I’m not far away. My wife is sleeping. She just had a baby.”
“Maybe you
No congratulations. Not even a “That’s nice.”
He said, “I’ll be there shortly. There are a couple more questions I want to ask you, anyway.”
There was silence on the other end of the line. Neither she nor her husband had ever asked about the status of the case. He’d thought that was strange at the time, but he was busy with his own work and, of course, the coming birth of Elena. But after the initial shock, the crying and the desperation to see her father Pat exhibited, he’d been surprised that there hadn’t been a flurry of calls afterward.
People reacted to tragedy in wildly different ways. Nothing surprised him anymore. Theresa needed her sleep. And he needed to work.
