Last Fairytale, The (16 page)

Gen thought about this new twist. “Why would she hide her phone and not her purse?”

“Hard to say. People do things on impulse.”

“You can say that again.” Gen’s heart sank at the image of Bree following Vonnegon. Why would she go off alone? “Any chance someone checked her in and they’re off duty now?”

“No new guests in the hotel in the past few hours. Mack is following up with the employees who’ve gone home, but so far nobody’s seen or heard anything to do with her or the car.”

“So far?”

“He still has a couple people from housekeeping to track down.”

Gen said a silent prayer that the lead would pan out.

* * *

Bree was exhausted. Her body was quaking from the freezing water. She felt like she was dancing drunk in liquid ice.

Hypothermia.

She knew the symptoms, but there was nothing she could do but keep moving and hope for the best.

The lights along the coast seemed closer. A few boats had hummed by in the dark, but none near enough to see her. She’d tried to hail the first two but stopped. Yelling drained the precious energy that was critical in the push to gain the shore.

As a distraction, she pretended to be swimming laps in the pool. One hundred strokes on her right side, then turn to the left. One hundred more. One hundred back strokes, then face the lights and do the same in breast strokes, willing the city to come closer with every wrenching movement.

Row, row, row your boat
.

Her old swim coach would not be impressed with her technique, but Bree didn’t care. Although she’d lost feeling in her limbs, even the twitchy movements were gaining a little ground.

Just keep going.

One hundred side strokes, one hundred back strokes. The seas grew higher. Seaweed curled around her leg and was gone. A fish grazed her arm and she recoiled, then reached for another stroke, and another.

She gave it everything she had, but a thousand counts later she was done. Tremors kept her from raising her arms, moving her legs effectively, or completing even one more movement. She felt herself slipping in and out of reality.

At last, Bree closed her eyes and just let go. She was nearly unconscious when she slipped beneath the swell.

As she sank, she gave her spirit over and felt relief. The trembling left her. She felt peace fill her like air extending the malleable interior of a balloon.

She was ready.

But as Bree’s body drifted ever lower, a vision formed in the part of her mind still able to function. It was Lilia Butler, suspended in the sea with her own swath of hair swirling in an arc around her radiant face. Her hand was out, gesturing. Her expression was infused with comfort and love.

“Mama,” Bree cried.

But her mother wasn’t beckoning to her, Bree realized. She was pointing.

“Cambria, go back,” the wraith whispered, even as the vision disappeared into the depths. “Go back.”

Bree woke with a start and scrabbled to the surface. Her hand grazed a rough strand of rope and she grabbed it. It was a length of fishing net strung with floats, broken free from some craft that probably regretted finding it gone.

As confused as she was, she felt joy.

This might be her salvation.

She wrapped her arms in the strands and gave herself over, knowing it would keep her head above water when she once again succumbed to the cold.

Dawn was beginning to lighten the sky. If she could stay alive until daylight, she had a chance.

“Mama, stay with me.”

* * *

At five o’clock in the morning, Gen was slouched in a metal chair beside Garcia’s desk. She was staring into the cold remains of a cup of stationhouse coffee when a uniformed dispatch cop walked across the room. He stood before them.

“Some street people in Dogpatch flagged down a car near one of the industrial centers. Told the driver some crazy-ass story about a beautiful mermaid caught in a fishing net. The driver used his cell to call it in. Says he wouldn’t have paid any attention, but something about the look in their eyes convinced him. He said it’s weird, but he thinks there must be something to it. We’re thinking they found a floater. Maybe a woman with long hair. Dispatch sent an ambulance, it’s already on the way.”

“Thanks, Franco.” Garcia was out of his seat, skinning on his jacket. “Let’s go.”

Gen abandoned the mug and followed him to the Tahoe. She prayed it wouldn’t be Bree, but if it was, she prayed her friend was alive. When she cast a glance Garcia’s way, his lips were moving.

Life was fraught with whim and chance. One day all was serene, the next trouble grabbed you in its fist and you couldn’t breathe for the pressure.

“If it’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you don’t give yourself over to believing bad people always win.” Garcia’s voice had lost its harsh edge. “Don’t give up.”

Gen turned to the window and clutched at hope. “Thanks, Eric.”

Sirens and flashing lights led them to a lot that bordered a boulder-strewn jetty. They were close to the soup kitchen. A cadre of shabby men huddled between a bank of dumpsters pushed against a building wall.

Paramedics halfway down the pier were hunched over a blanket-shrouded figure.

Garcia broke into a jog.

Gen walked slowly, resisting the urge to learn the truth any faster than she could handle it. The waves were crashing against the barrier. Sea spray stung her face as she fought the fear constricting her throat. When the wind howled off the water she wondered if the sound was coming from her, if it was her voice crying out, if she was screaming with sorrow.

He was running back by the time she’d reached the rocks. She stopped. Her heart beat in time with his footsteps.

“It’s Bree. She’s in bad shape, but she’s still alive. It looks like she’s been in the water all night. They’re doing what they can, but they need to get her to the hospital. She’s going to have to put up the fight of her life.”

Garcia must have seen the despair on Gen’s face, because he moved quickly to wrap his arms around her. “Good thoughts. Let’s get out of their way now and let them do their job.”

The EMTs moved Bree’s body onto a gurney and strapped her in. Gen turned away, struggling to think what she could do to help.

She saw the bedraggled group by the trash bins and went to them. “Hey guys,” she said. Her voice was quiet. “Did you find my friend?”

They nodded.

“Thank you for helping her.” Her voice broke and she clasped the hand of one. He wore the gloves Bree had given away at the soup kitchen.

Had fate interceded?

“You’re soaked,” she said. “Your feet are wet. Come with me.” Gen herded the men back to the Tahoe. “I need a favor,” she said.

“They know I’m a cop. They won’t get in the car unless I arrest them, and I can’t.”

“I’m thinking hot coffee. We can get some at a shelter a block away. Let’s go and bring it back here, along with dry socks. It’s the least we can do.”

She felt a sob bubbling to the surface and cut it off, telling herself that Gen Delacourt did not cry in public. “Bree would want us to take care of them.”

Twenty hours later the doctors declared their charge out of the woods, and Bree was moved from the ICU to a private room. She weaved in and out of wakefulness, finally opening her eyes the following morning.

Gen was dozing in a chair beside the bed.

“Genny,” Bree whispered.

Her lids flew open and she struggled upright, then squeezed Bree’s hand and bowed her head over it. “You scared the hell out of us.”

Bree’s voice was weak when she replied. “I scared the hell out of myself.”

“Garcia and Mack have been in and out of the hospital, and Oliver called your sister last night. She’s on her way.”

“Cooper? I hope he didn’t scare her.”

“It was frightening, Bree.”

“But there’s nothing they can do.”

Gen patted her hand. “I’m guessing Garcia’s going to give you the third degree about what happened, so I won’t ask a lot of questions. You’ll need to save your strength.”

“I don’t have much to tell. I followed Vonnegon to Sausalito. I saw him with a guy, so I parked the car and went back to hear what they were arguing about. I think he put a cloth over my mouth. It must’ve had chloroform or something like that on it, because I was out in an instant. I couldn’t even get it together enough to scream.

“Next thing I know, I’m trussed up with duct tape in a boat, and two jerks with covered faces grab me and take me upstairs. I saw a gun. It looked like they were going to use it, so I jumped overboard. That’s it.”

Someone in the hall cleared their throat, drawing both women’s attention.

“I have a feeling you know more than that.” Garcia was leaning against the jamb with his arms crossed over his chest. “It could take a while for details to come back.”

“Hey Eric.”

“Hey Bree.” He pushed off the wall and dragged another chair close. “Nice to see you awake and smiling.”

“It’s nice to be here. I thought I’d be sleeping with the fishes.”

“I bet. Doctors figure you were in the water for hours. You’re a tough cookie.”

“it felt more like days.” Bree’s thin laugh ended in a cough. “I don’t feel so tough now.”

Gen stood and released Bree’s hand, then leaned over and placed a palm alongside her cheek. She kissed her forehead. “I’m going home for a while, but I’ll be back. I bet Garcia wants some alone time.” Gen winked. “See you later. I am so happy to be able to say that.”

“Me too, Genny. Tell Livvie I love him.”

“I will. He knows you’re okay and he says to tell you he’s pissed that you didn’t invite him up to the party in Sausalito.”

Bree smiled. “Tell him next time I’ll let him drive.”

“I’ll bring him this afternoon and you can tell him yourself.”

“Deal.”

Gen shouldered her bag and left.

Garcia and Bree watched each other for a few beats.

“I’m sorry,” Bree said. “I can imagine how angry you must be. You and Genny both told me not to be a loose cannon, and I ignored it. You must be ready to throw me in the clink.”

Garcia crossed his arms. “I’m just happy you’re okay.”

“And impressed that I’m an Olympic-class swimmer.”

His expression softened further. “That, too.” He moved over and sat in the chair Gen had vacated. “Feel up to talking?”

“Sure. Can you check on my car in Sausalito?”

“It’s in our impound garage. We had it towed back from a motel parking lot in Muir Woods. We need to sweep it again for prints, see if we can find anything that will give us some idea who took you, and why.”

“How did it get to Marin?”

“We figure the bad guys drove it there.”

“None of this makes sense. Why would they want to take me in the first place, much less my car?”

“My best guess is that you know something you shouldn’t.”

“What could that be?”

“I have no idea.”

“What about Vonnegon?”

“What about him?”

“I heard him tell somebody on the phone he was going to ‘take care of it himself.’ He sounded sinister, that’s why I followed him. Do you think these guys took me because he told them to?”

Garcia looked down at his hands. “Well, that’s the thing.”

“What thing?”

“We questioned Mr. Vonnegon. He had a legit reason for that conversation. His mother owns a house there, and the tenants have been letting trash pile up. Vonnegon went up to have a word in person. We talked to the renters and their neighbors and we’re sure the incidents are not related.”

“No way.” She lay back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling. “I’m an idiot.”

“You misconstrued what he said, and I can see why you might have. Whoever meant you harm must have been watching. When they saw you take off alone in the dark, they followed you and took advantage. We think it was a crime of opportunity.”

“I don’t believe I made all that up in my head. I mean, I do believe it, but how embarrassing. All this was my own fault.” Bree covered her face with her hands. “Are you sure about him?”

“It’s not the first time something didn’t play out the way it looked.” Garcia ran a hand through his hair. “Bottom line, we don’t have any reason to believe Vonnegon is the bad guy here. Why would the wealthy head of a successful company get involved in kidnapping?”

“It’s happened before somewhere in the world.”

“Sure, maybe. But in this case, the evidence points to Andrew Ducane, Catherine Robeson, and the brother, Russell Yates.”

“Half-brother.”

“Right. We’re still trying to locate him. Vonnegon has agreed to let us inside the Tiburon house, although we’ve verified no one is coming or going.”

“So where do we go from here?”

Garcia pulled a face. “I don’t believe you said that. Here’s the deal. You’re not going anywhere. Not for a couple of days, anyhow. After that, you’re officially off the case. Again. When you’re up to it, we’re going to pick your brain about Ducane’s office and the boat, and see what you can remember. And we’re going to stash you somewhere safe for a while.”

“That’s not what I want.”

“What do you want? I mean it, Bree, really. What are you after? Why do you feel so compelled to be involved in this?”

Bree dropped her head against the pillows and stared at the acoustical tile. “In college, I wanted to be a journalist. Someone who did amazing things, things that made a difference. Obviously I never pulled it off. But when this whole crazy situation started, I thought it was my ticket. Another chance to break into the business.

“But I had a lot of time to mull it over while I was swimming. What I wanted back then was to do great work that would make me famous. It was about me. Now I think I want to use my writing to do good things for people who need help. Even if the work is small, and the recognition isn’t there. I want to be somebody who makes a difference.”

“Then do it.”

“Thanks for your support, Garcia.” Sarcasm laced her tone. “I’ll try to figure a way to make it happen.”

Eric Garcia reached out and covered Bree’s hand with his own. His smile softened the hard planes of his face. “If it’s all right with you, I’ll stick around and see how it works out.”

* * *

Bree heard the scuff of a chair and opened her eyes.

“I’m sorry I woke you.” Cooper stood and moved a strand of hair off Bree’s forehead. “I was trying to be quiet.”

“Don’t cry.” Bree reached out and her sister eased into her arms. “I’m fine. Gosh, I hope Dad didn’t come all the way up here, too.”

“He’s worried half to death, but when we heard you were okay, I asked him to stay with the kids. He’ll visit later. We’re going to take shifts.”

“You don’t need to. Everything is okay.”

“Yeah, now it is.” Cooper cried openly at that, her voice muffled against Bree’s shoulder. “But what if it hadn’t turned out that way? I couldn’t bear the idea of losing you.”

“It wasn’t my time to go.”

“It’s a damn good thing it wasn’t.”

“Cooper, I saw Mom,” Bree whispered. “I’d given up. I stopped swimming and let go, but then I saw her face in the water. She told me to go back, that it wasn’t my time yet. She saved me.”

“Thank God. I’ve been begging her to take care of you.” Cooper pulled back and used a tissue from the bedside table to dab at her tears. “She’s visited me, too.”

“You know what, Coop? I think maybe she’s with us all the time. You should have seen the look on her face. I wish you could have felt it, too. Not that I wish you were with me, but–”

“I know that look.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to feel bad if you’d never seen her. She’s been in my dreams a couple of times. Remember the year River was so sick? Mom wanted me to know she’s with the kids.”

“She’s watching over us.” Bree began to cry. “All this time I could have been talking to her, I could have felt her with me,” she sobbed. “But it hurt too much, so I pushed the memory away.”

Cooper climbed onto the bed and lay down. Wrapping an arm around Bree’s shoulders, she hugged her close and smoothed her hair. “There’s a difference between pushing someone away and not thinking about them because it hurts.”

“But I could have chosen to think of her with love. To think about all the good times. I could have held her in my heart and shared my life with her that way.”

“You can do that now,” Cooper said.

“Yeah. I guess something good came of this.”

“Bree,” Cooper whispered. “I’m so sorry I didn’t comfort you better. I think that’s what you needed from me, just to be consoled. About Mom. About Steve. About life. I haven’t been a good sister. You didn’t need any lectures, you needed love and understanding. I’m so sorry.”

“You were just a kid. It wasn’t your place–”

“Shush Bree. It was my place. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Coop.”

* * *

Gen returned that afternoon with Oliver in tow, their arms filled with a pink pastry box and balloons and a pretty gift bag.

“Oh my.” Bree eyed the box and pushed a button to raise the head of the bed. “Please tell me that’s my favorite chocolate cake.”

“Of course it is,” Oliver said. “One does not get fished out of the bay every day, you know. This calls for a party.” He moved to her side and held her.

Bree heard his breath catch in his throat.

“I’m okay, Livvie.”

“Yes, well it’s a good thing you lived to tell the tale,” he replied. “I would’ve had to give the eulogy, and you know how I am about public speaking. I may have overplayed the speech and then been angry with you for letting me make a fool of myself, with you not there to stop me and all.”

Bree kissed his cheek and Oliver, suddenly at a loss for words, pretended to fuss with the blanket. “I brought you my best embroidered bed jacket,” he said. “I figured the hospital wardrobe would be drab, and I was right. You could use a little color.”

Gen was already pulling the quilted pink satin jacket from the bag Oliver had dropped. Behind his back, she made a face that depicted pure horror at the sight.

Bree laughed.

“I know what you’re doing back there, Genevieve Delacourt,” Oliver said. “You can make fun of me all you want, as long as it makes my Cambria laugh like her old self.”

He leaned forward and whispered. “I can’t bear the thought that you might have left me. Maybe I haven’t told you enough how important it is to be able to borrow your clothes.”

“Oliver,” she whispered in reply. “I love you, too. I’m afraid you’re stuck with this friend forever.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if you’d invited me along.”

“Oh, I don’t know. We might have both ended up swimming all night.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Just don’t make a habit of it.” Livvie gave her a parting squeeze, and Gen leaned in to draw the jacket around Bree’s shoulders and guide her arms through the sleeves.

“Perfect,” Oliver said. “Just as I thought.”

His eyes lit up with interest when Mack and Garcia appeared in the hall. Gen introduced them. Oliver served cake and stayed on the periphery of the conversation until the duo said goodbye.

“I’ve met the winsome Garcia, but who’s this gum-chewing Mack person?” Oliver asked. “Looks like a country singer, don’t you think? Right out of the South, with the old ball cap and a two day beard, all the respectful sir and ma’aming. I love the flannel shirt and jeans. It just screams testosterone. Yummy.”

Gen shrugged.

“Cat got your tongue, Genny? Seems to me he spent a lot of time looking at you.”

“He’s a straight arrow. A good guy.” She shrugged again. “I like him.”

“Well, yes, clearly straight, no doubt about that.” Oliver held up his left hand and twiddled his fingers in the air. “And no ring.”

“Oliver, I just got a Dear John. I’m not really in a big rush to interview replacements.”