I veered past the thick-trunked pepper tree in a pitifully small Chumash herb garden. I walked through a picnic area where small orange flowers popped against the green of a vine covering the fence, and then down steps into the olive grove. Along a walkway lined with round stones meandered mosaics picturing the fourteen stations of the cross. The dramatic tile panels sat atop rectangular pillars, the stones of which had been hauled up from the creek by misbehaving seminarians, according to the brochure at the entrance. The dusty gray of the spiky, thin olive leaves cast a slightly spooky light over the area, which also had pea stone paths winding through the trees.
As a chef, I brightened when I came near La Huerta—the Orchard—which was the mission’s garden. Unfortunately, it was behind a chain link fence and a sign on the gate said it was only open for tours by appointment. But even viewed through a wire barrier, the tangerine tree, the soaring banana plant with its green clusters of five-inch fruit, the herbs and greens and spiky artichoke leaves made my heart happy. I could smell the citrus from here.
Wandering up and down the fence peering into the garden, I had to start squinting. I glanced up and exclaimed out loud. I couldn’t see the ocean from where I stood, but I knew the sun was dipping into the Pacific, casting a sunny path into infinity. The shadows up here deepened into purple, and the rocky faces of the mountains above glowed pink only at their peaks. Time for this vacationer to head home.
My perambulations had landed me at the far end of the garden’s fence, and behind me was an empty employee parking lot and utility area. I reversed direction and pointed myself toward my car.
Something rustled behind me. I froze, my heart in my throat. The sound stopped, too. I reached for my phone. No! I swore silently. My cell was safe in the car with my purse. How could I be twenty-eight years old with a half dozen murder investigations behind me and leave my phone anywhere except on my person? How?
I glanced over my shoulder but didn’t see anyone. I laced my keys through my knuckles as I had after the movie and walked briskly down the path. I headed around the corner toward the long line of tile-topped stone columns. Should I sprint for the car? What if I tripped? Was I actually being pursued? Maybe a crow had made the noise, or a rat. Maybe I’d become paranoid. I paused for a moment and took a deep breath, silently blowing it out, listening. I brought my hand to my mouth when I heard a faint sound. That wasn’t the noise of a large bird on a flimsy tree limb. It was a human sound, like a throat clearing or a sneeze being stifled.
Why hadn’t I listened to the palm reader on the pier? I resumed my fast walk, watching my step but moving as quickly as I could. A branch cracked behind me. I raced up the six steps to the picnic area where I’d entered, but my toe caught on the next to last step. I windmilled my arms, barely catching myself. As I hurried between the wooden tables, my footsteps resounded louder on the gravel than a hundred monks crunching popcorn.
Finally, I spied the parking lot. And my insides turned to ice. A big SUV was backed into a spot near the exit. An SUV that hadn’t been there when I arrived. The vehicle didn’t seem to be running, but I couldn’t tell for sure from here. The light was wrong to see if anyone lurked behind the wheel.
I cursed. I had to get to my car. I heard another noise, this time coming from the olive grove. It sounded like a shoe crunching on pea stone. Whirling, I thought I caught a glimpse of light-colored pants moving fast in my direction. Time for me to get out of here. I aimed for my car and sprinted for all I was worth.
Chapter 40
I drove more desperately than a white-tailed deer racing to beat a forest fire. Breathless, I pulled into a space in front of the library’s main branch, the same place I’d met Detective Gifford earlier. I hadn’t been followed here, not that I could tell. I pulled out my phone finally. I knew I should contact the detective, but I called Jason’s number instead. I needed the comfort of an old friend more than anything. Gifford might think I was being paranoid, anyway.
When Jason picked up, I heaved the hugest sigh of relief I’d ever breathed.
“What’s up, Rob?” My friend’s tone was breezy, casual.
My voice came out in a sob. “I hope you’re free for dinner again, because I really need to talk with you.”
“Hey.” Jason’s voice changed to dead serious. “Are you okay? What happened? Where are you?”
“I’m in front of the central library. I’m, uh, yeah, I’m okay.” I took in a deep breath to steady my wobbly voice and blew it out. “A kind of scary thing happened and I really, really don’t want to be alone. And I might have been followed.”
“Seriously? Somebody is chasing you?” He swore.
“No. Well, not right now.”
“Good. I was going to cook tonight, anyway, and I’ve already shopped. You’ve just become my lucky dinner guest. Now, sit tight. Park as close to the building as you can and under a light. I’ll be there in fifteen and guide you to my apartment. Cool?”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“On
