turned to him, her legs trembling, and saw the smile on his big face and the love in his eyes. She saw no wildness in them, just love and gratitude and relief. He held her for a long time under the cool water; then he soaped her and washed her.
'What if we make something grow in here?' she said, patting her tummy and whispering into his ear past the water.
'When I'm home. When this is over.'
'But we're not right, Sean. We have to be right to be parents. And we are clearly not.'
'No.'
'I love you. I love doing all this. But I should be able to control it, like normal people. See? Even when I'm talking about controlling it, I can't.' She kissed his ear, running her tongue along its contours.
'I can't control it, either. Maybe we're really not normal people, Seliah.'
'Then what are we? There must be an explanation. Should we try another doctor?'
'I'll go online.'
'I've been online. According to them we might have flu, PTSD, fibral neuralgia, lead poisoning, toxic levels of mercury, rabies or syphilis. Or maybe HIV, schizophrenia, hysteria, drug interactions, environmental toxins. And it's possible we're being poisoned by someone and don't know it. Online won't cut it, honey.'
'Okay. It has to be a flu. Or a reaction to something. Last week I had headaches. They were terrible.'
'You didn't tell me.'
'I can't tell you everything. I think, yes. We should go to a doctor.'
'We can do it together.'
'Okay. Good.'
'And we'll go to another doctor for the baby. We'll make sure the baby is perfect.'
'He'll be just a cell or two, won't he?'
'You can't be too careful in the first trimester.'
When he had finished washing himself and gotten out, Seliah was still there, the water that she had loved for so much of her life splashing over her body. It was good again. Water was good. Maybe all she had needed all along was her husband. This was the beginning of their new life. She lifted her mouth and drank from the stream.
She took a few extra minutes to comb out her hair and put on some makeup that fit her mood. Even though she would be a mother soon, and it was early morning and the fierce desert sun was already outlining the curtains with bright slashes of light, she was still hungry for something dark and primitive, so she painted her eyes and brushed her lashes thick and hollowed her cheeks and painted her lips dark plum. In the mirror she saw a platinum-haired, blue-eyed predator. She smiled at herself. Little white fangs in a blood-drenched mouth. She growled, then giggled. Her pussy was tingling and wet and when she brushed it with her finger she felt the air cool on its outer fold. She left the towel tied up under her armpits and stepped out. They spent nearly all of Monday in bed, curtains drawn, AC blasting, both televisions turned to sports and muted, with breaks for room service and brief naps. They ate ravenously and drank fruit juices by the quart.
They broke a few times so that Sean could e-mail her sweet, lovesick messages. They didn't want ATF suspecting they were both AWOL. Seliah e-mailed him lovesick words in return, playing along just in case someone at ATF had found a way into her hard drive. They laughed and tried composing such letters while having sex in exotic positions. Their e-mails heated up. They joked about Charlie and Janet reading them and struggling to keep their clothes on. More laughter, then more sex.
Daisy slept at various stations within the suite, following the narrow slats of sun that got past the curtains.
In the long twilight Seliah put on her running clothes and loped out into the cooling desert where she ran along flowering gardens and country club ponds and a golf course closed this month for re-seeding the fairways. There were towering palms and plaster walls hung richly in bougainvillea. Even in the waning light the bracts vibrated with color. Every green and living thing was framed by the clean beige desert sand. She glided past man- made waterfalls and fountains and ponds and creeks, water gushing everywhere. Every inch of her was sore but the motion helped her gather the pain into one big neat package and will it all away. Maybe we could move here, she thought: Raise the baby here in the good, clean desert heat. Sell the San Clemente house. The prices here are cheaper.
When she got back to the suite Sean was gone. All of his things were gone. Daisy, too. It was like they'd never been here, like the whole thing was some fever dream she'd had and she would wake up soon in her San Clemente bed, trying to remember all the good moments of the last twelve hours.
All that was left of him was the light scent of his shampoo and shave cream, and a handwritten note on the Rancho Las Palmas stationery: Dear Seliah, I've thought it through and there's no way I can complete this mission with you. The risk would be unacceptable and my options would be limited by you. Please, please understand. Now that we have been together again there's nothing I want more than you and you and YOU. Go back home. Get Dave to give you your job back. Tell him you were having a bad day. See a new doctor. Find out about us. And wait for me. Wait for me. We will be together soon and we will be together forever. Walking through that door without you will be the hardest thing I've done in my life.
Love eternal,
Sean
PS-Daisy misses you already. I had a talk with her but I don't know if it did any good.
Seliah took the note and sat on the bed and looked around at the darkened room. The curtains were tightly drawn and the blanket still covered the dresser mirror. She gathered a handful of bedsheet and wiped the tears from her face. She could smell him in it, his wildness, his unsated needs. She stood and ripped the bedsheet with her teeth, then tore it to shreds with her hands. Seliah sprung up and pulled down the blanket and saw herself in the mirror but again she couldn't stand the sight of herself. She picked a vase off a side table and threw it hard into the middle of the mirror and saw a circle of glass splash into shards and spatter to the tile floor.
'Fuck you, Sean. Fuck you.'
14
Bradley did Larry King Live the next evening with a fresh haircut and his left arm in a sling. He sat up straight for the interview and he looked sharp in one of his tailored LASD summer weight shirts. He tried to sound objective as he answered the questions and gave his account, downplaying his role as hero, giving large credit to Deputies Vega, Clovis and Klotz.
'They saved my life,' he said.
Then King cleared his throat and sat forward. 'Three dead, Bradley. A deputy-involved shooting. There's an ongoing investigation and it's possible that you and Deputy Vega will face disciplinary actions or even criminal charges. Talk to me about that, will you?'
'I can't, Larry. It's department policy. All I can say is that the LASD Internal Affairs teams are professional and thorough and they'll do the right thing.'
'Are you worried?'
'No, I'm not.'
'You know, there's been no neighborhood backlash thus far. No cries of misuse of force. Do you think there's a sense that these alleged Gulf Cartel kidnappers got what was coming to them, taking a little boy who is an American citizen?'
'People love Stevie Carrasco.'
'You know we wanted to have him on, but we had to respect the privacy of his family. That's number one, in a case like this. What can you tell us about him? How did he behave that night? Do you know yet if he was the one to actually set off the silent alarm?'
Bradley nodded and furrowed his brow. He had invented the alarm story for Theresa Brewer, to explain their appearance at the kidnappers' house. And she had passed it along to FOX News, which later solidified the tale for scores of thousands of viewers. Bradley figured when LASD dispatch checked the tapes and found no such alarm call, they'd blame FOX for the error. And he also figured that this seemed like a good moment to wash his hands of
