Indelible (40 page)

Just be, Trevor said, but how? She’d always believed God was in control. So had he intended—even used—the person who struck her to accomplish his will? Because she’d hidden the gift—or the part Fleur and Lena told her should be shown—had he taken it away?

The first time Trevor offered, she’d resisted the pleasure of his Jacuzzi, sitting outside while he nursed his sore knee. Now it was her turn for therapy. Wearing her own yellow and white tankini, she slipped into the steaming water. Heat crawled up her legs, her back and stomach. Her arms stung, but only for a moment. Her shoulders and neck sank into the enveloping warmth, muscles and tendons releasing. The throbbing in her head diminished.

Trevor came and stood beside the Jacuzzi in jeans and T-shirt.

“You’re not getting in?”

“I’ll set the jets.”

He’d suggested but wouldn’t share the spa. Why would he? She stared at her reflection in the still water. Nothing special. Just a girl.

“Nat?”

She brought her arm across her chest to press the crook of her neck and shoulder where tension had returned.

“Hey.” He knelt beside the spa. “What’s wrong?”

She stared out the windows, unable, unwilling to give the sadness words. It was a private grief, a selfish one.

“I see you’re not looking at me anymore. What’s that about?”

She turned. “Please stop pretending nothing’s changed.”

He searched her face. Instead of answering, he went into the dressing room and came back in his trunks. She watched him step into the water, submerge in the center, and come up soaking beside her. “I wasn’t out there because I didn’t want to be with you.”

“Then why?”

“For starters, the first time we did this, you sat out.”

“I hardly knew you.”

“In the hospital you didn’t know me at all. Now maybe you do, but—”

“You don’t know
me.”
Tears stung. “This me.”

He shook his head. “Only one thing’s changed.”

“The way I was and what I did and how I lived my life. I feel like I’ve been knocked off the shelf, and instead of the only unicorn in the glass menagerie, I’m a horse like all the others. I don’t even know if I can sculpt anymore.”

He stroked her arm. “No point assuming that.”

“If I can’t, what about the gallery?”

“Oh, my rent’ll carry you awhile.”

She groaned. “Aaron told you?”

“ANR. Clever.”

She pressed her hands to her face.

“Whit and I would have bought the building if it had been for sale.”

She lowered her fingers. “Aaron’s offer included use of his discretionary tickets as long as he plays in Denver.”

“I like him more and more.”

In the steamy solitude, with misty droplets on the windows and Joshua Radin playing low, she softened against him. “Trevor, I’m starting over now. You were hurt that I didn’t know you. But I don’t know myself.”

“You’re smart, you’re tough, you’re sweet, forgiving, funny. You don’t expect things.”

“What would I expect?”

“Right there is what makes you special. Maybe celebrity jaded me, but someone who doesn’t even think of what’s in it for her is amazing.”

“I have hopes and desires.”

He stared hard. “I hope so.”

“But—”

“I spent the last weeks knowing I could lose you. I’m not willing to do that.”

She brought her fingers to his face, feeling the skin, the bone, the form
of him. She’d made him in clay, but this was the original. “You’re not disappointed that the part of me that attracted you is gone?”

“You mean that you can look at me without needing clay to wipe me out?”

“I wasn’t wiping you out.”

“Come here.” He pulled her across his lap and tucked her shoulder under his arm. “This is where I want you. Today, tomorrow, whether you see like the rest of us or like God. Right here, where you fit like nobody else.”

Jonah stared at Mayor Buckley in his doorway. “You realize I’m having dinner with my family? For the first time all week.”

“I wouldn’t be standing here if this wasn’t crucial to Redford.”

“Mayor—”

“Hear me out, Jonah. It’s in your best interest.”

He knew whose interest it was in, if the self-important man came all this way in person. Jonah expelled his breath and ushered Buckley into the main room, in earshot of the dining room where Tia and Sarge ate, although Tia’s fork had frozen halfway to her mouth. Jonah spoke before Buckley could start working the room. “What can’t wait until tomorrow?”

“I understand you’re thinking of inviting the FBI to join the investigation.”

They’d parleyed it around, but he doubted they’d get anywhere. “The feds have resources, personnel, a budget.”

“Well, I want you to know, I have personally spoken with Dave, and our city manager agrees that in light of these new events, your requests are reasonable.”

Jonah absorbed that without emotion. “You’re approving three new positions and the equipment I asked for.” All of which had been shot down.

“We want you to do the job we appointed you to. I know the state’s got techs and labs it’s sensible to make use of. But there’s no need to bring in the feds. The endangerment of a local teen and an assault on a local woman, that’s our business, and we take care of it.”

“You think word’ll get out that Redford isn’t the Utopian Camelot you want people to believe?”

“I think our citizens need to know they’re in good hands right here. Yours.”

Their stares sparred.

“I made you chief and kept you there when others doubted. I fought for you when your daddy put the shotgun to his head and some wondered who pulled the trigger.”

Jonah stiffened.

“I told them your dalliance with the bottle wouldn’t keep you from becoming the best chief of police Redford has ever known.”

He imagined a shot of Kentucky bourbon burning down his throat like sweet nectar of the gods. There were entire days he never thought of it, but Buckley made him want to drink.

“Some fought me, but you’re in this position because I believe you can do the job.”

And he’d give him what it took to do it. “If this is connected to crimes in other states—”

“Your concern is Redford and the people of our city. You find this clown and take him down.”

“He’s no clown. He’s a demon out of hell.”

Buckley eyed him up and down. “Well, you know that terrain.”

Jonah swallowed the retort that came to mind, not out of respect for the man but his own self-respect. And it was true. A real demon might wear his father’s face.

“Good night, Mayor.”

“Good night, Chief.”

He watched the man leave, then rejoined his family.

Tia said, “Why doesn’t our august mayor want the FBI to help?”

He looked at her. “I don’t know.”

Sarge harrumphed. “He wants no one poking around in his business.”

“Which again begs the question, why?” Tia said. “It isn’t as though they’d investigate anything besides the attacks.”

Sarge waved his fork. “There’s no controlling what they poke into.”

“What else do you know?” She narrowed her gaze.

“What man in power hasn’t done things to get there? Your mother called him a mystery.”

Jonah shook his head. “The FBI doesn’t care about infidelity. What else is there?”

“He’s a deal-maker.”

“Like the one he just made with me.”

“If there’s something in it for you, there’s more in it for him.”

The man had gone to see his mother, probably reminding her secrets should be kept. “If it’s important enough to fill and outfit three positions, I’ll take it.”

“Are you sure you’re not dealing with the devil?” Tia said.

He reached over and took her hand. “Well, with more boots on the ground, I might have time to look into other things.”

Her smile spread. “That’s the man I love.”

His phone vibrated. Frowning, Jonah answered. “Yeah, Moser.”

“If you’re looking to fill new positions, I’d like you to consider my nephew.”

Jonah’s jaw fell slack. “Did you bug my kitchen?”

“Beg pardon?”

“How did you know about the positions?”

“From Ruth.”

“How did she—never mind. If your nephew’s anything like you, bring him in to see me.”

He hung up and stared at his phone. Buckley must have been confident enough in the outcome to spread it through Ruth to the rest of Redford. One of these days he was going to stand up to the man. But not when it meant getting what he needed to keep his people safe, to catch the demon preying on his town.

Up and down unseen
Wing silently the buxom air, embalmed
With odours. There ye shall be fed and filled
Immeasurably; all things shall be your prey.

S
ounds of strife recalled to him the mission he’d abandoned. He had thought this town a perfect place, but no such place exists.

“Give it back!” The small voice wailed.

“Crybaby-crybaby-crybaby-cry.”

Taunt and crying, taunt and squealing.

“Shut up before I break your heads.” A low and growling bellow. “Shut them up before I break yours too.”

Glass shattered. A woman screeched, laying her voice atop the others.

Two scrappy urchins banged out through the door into the masking dark. Heedless as rabbits they scurried, returning him to days before the darker days replaced one nightmare with a worse.

He saw his poxy hands delving, delving for something to fill his mouth, not knowing who it was that saw his garbage plundered. How much better to have starved!

Through the fog he followed, having seen at once the roles they played, one the bruising bully bigger than his sobbing sibling. In the mist he loomed and found the cringing one he sought. Staring down, himself the cautionary tale, he looked into the weepy eyes and spread his leathered wings.

Twenty-Four

W
earing warmups, Birkenstock Boston clogs, and a handgun, Trevor slipped out to his balcony to take the call. The morning was gray and blustery, but he hoped he could avoid disturbing Natalie, sleeping in the guest room.

“Bro.” Conner’s voice broke up with the signal. “Got your message, but I’m not sure what I can tell you.”

Trevor adjusted his position on the balcony to get another bar on the cell phone. “Help me understand police procedure.” He had spoken to the chief last night, as frustratingly vague and noncommittal a conversation as he’d ever had. “It seems to me, something like this, they’d bring in the FBI.”

“That’s not as easily done as you think. Contrary to TV, agents aren’t loaded and waiting for hostile takeovers of everyone’s cases.”

“What if the suspect’s responsible for crimes in other states, then brings it here.”

“If it’s a case the feds are running, they’ll come to you,” Conner said. “That’s where you might get some jurisdictional posturing.”

“Okay, but in this case, the photos—”

“The photos you already sent Agent Lamont …”

“The photos I got for a period of time right before an abduction here in town.”

“What abduction?”

Trevor pinched the bridge of his nose. “An intoxicated teenage girl.”

“A teenage girl. Imagine that. Any connection to you?”

“She was left on a stone promontory. Like a kid on a water tower or in a skiff or a tree.” The cloud swirled in like gray fingers searching him.

“Dead?”

“Not dead, endangered.” He snapped the collar up under his chin.

“That’s still thin.”

Trevor cleared his throat. “He attacked my girlfriend.”

“Come again?”

“I said—”

“You’re in a relationship?”

“Focus, Conner.” He shifted the phone to his other ear. “She saw him staring at a statue of me.”

“They made you a statue? I’m gagging.”

Trevor dropped his head back. “Natalie made it. She’s a sculptor. It was her nephew I rescued. That story on the news.”

“Is she sane?”

“Come meet her yourself.”

“Whoa. Warn me to sit down, Bro.”

Trevor gripped the rail. “Are we through with that? I’m worried here. This guy’s obsessed.”

“All right. I hear you.”

But he didn’t. Not really. “He fractured her skull.”