Lying Eyes (19 page)

The tips of Carlo's ears turned red.

She glanced at the door. "I thought I was falling in love with you.
Silly me.
I was wrong. I could never love a man who calls the off-the-charts lovemaking we shared '
doing the dirty'.
"

Biting her lower lip to hold back her tears, Allison turned her back on Carlo.

He couldn't possibly—

What has come over him?

This is his meds speaking, not the man I love.

She whirled back around so fast she briefly witnessed pain in Carlo's eyes and lines deeply drawn around his sensitive lips.

This scene is tearing him apart, too.

Hugging her tote bag so he wouldn't see her hands shake, Allison nodded resolutely and walked out of his life.

––––––––

A
llison thanked her stars she'd escaped from Carlo's room with her head held high.

Once out in the wide corridor though, tears blinded her eyes. Staring straight ahead, she strode west and fumbled in her tote bag for a tissue to dry her eyes while she waited for the elevator.

The doors silently slid open. Allison stepped inside, right into Marsha's waiting arms.

"Oh, honey, what's wrong?" Susan asked.

"Carlo—"

"Is he all right? Has something happened to him? Please don't tell me he—"

"No. He hasn't," Allison said through clenched teeth. "He dumped me."

Marsha fumbled with the buttons and the elevator doors slid shut. "I'm going to strangle him. You're the best thing to happen to him since he joined Central," she said as the elevator descended.

"I saw a pizza joint up the street. We were going there after a visit with Carlo. He can wait. How does pizza and cold beer sound? Once he's back on his feet Carlo needs a sharp kick in the butt and I'm just the girl to—"

Allison shook her head. "Don't. You have to work with him. I don't."

Susan shook her head. "But—?"

"I don't ever have to see him again," Allison wailed.

"Good thing, too, or Mister Macho will finally get his comeuppance. From you."

"I don't want to fight with Carlo. I love the pigheaded dunce."

Marsha squeezed her hand. "Then give him time. If he has feelings for you—and I truly believe he does—Carlo may still see the light."

*****

R
onald Cummings, the station manager for Cable News said, "Sheryl Tally, our crime reporter is going on maternity leave the first of August," and poured her a cup of coffee. "She's giving birth to twins and plans to take six months off. If you ask me, she is going to make a great mom and I have the feeling she won't come back until those babies are ready to go away to college."

He stirred more cream into his coffee and smiled. "Your résumé landed on my desk at the perfect time. I hate interviewing almost as much as I hate training a newbie. Can you start in mid-July? That allows you a month to give notice, find a place to live, and settle in here before Sheryl's leave begins."

Stunned, Allison blinked. "Sure."

"Is something wrong?"

"No, I'm just surprised. I didn't expect to be offered a job on the spot."

He grinned. "I recognized you from the photograph in the morning paper. The headline said you're considered something of a hero at Central Division. Anyone who saves a police detective's life twice in as many days is bound to know a lot about police procedures, so my offer stands. Or would you rather go back to San Diego and wait two weeks for a call from Human Resources?"

Allison laughed. "Definitely not."

"Good. I'll have HR mail you an employment packet. That way you can be enrolled in our health plan by the first day of August."

"Thank you."

She'd canceled her dinner plans last night, gone from the pizza place to the hotel to lick her wounds, and began searching the Internet for job openings in her field. When she'd happened on an opening at Cable News she'd polished her résumé and sent it off electronically.

The enormity of that simple action hit her.

"This is too easy. I keep expecting someone to knock on the door and tell me there's been a terrible mistake."

"You come highly recommended by Captain Samson. That makes a big difference and six years’ experience with the same station counts for a lot. I feel lucky to get you. Are you having second thoughts about relocating?"

At the present, I'm not sure of anything.

"No, it's time."

*****

A
llison took a cab straight to Union Station where she'd stored her luggage earlier and exchanged the return ticket she hadn't used for one on the first train heading to San Diego.

I don't want to linger around this station. My memories of meeting Carlo here are still fresh and too painful to endure for long.

His deep-voiced offer of assistance had been a life saver, his offer to share his taxi, too.

When a man's voice announced her train was ready to board she followed about thirty other travelers out to the tracks. An Amtrak employee helped with her largest suitcase while she found a seat.

So far, not many riders were seated in her car.

Good, keep it that way. I need a peaceful trip
.

She'd like to close her heavy-lidded eyes and not open them again until the train stopped at the end of the line.

Her eyelids drooped as if she'd wept for twenty-four hours. She almost had.

Allison liked Susan and Marsha, but she wouldn't have been good company last night. As soon as Marsha claimed the last slice of pizza Allison had pleaded a headache and said her goodbyes.

She'd mistakenly wanted to think.

See what it got me?

Swollen eyes and a red drippy nose.

Don't think about Carlo now.

Instead, think about my new job.

Okay. She stared out the window at the empty rail yard as the train began to move.

Except for a place to live, I won't need to go shopping for a while.

Her professional wardrobe would all look new to a different audience.

She'd need to familiarize herself with the stores in her chosen neighborhood and find out if Cable News enforced an employee dress code. She hoped not. She preferred to dress to suit her mood.

She'd need to find a new OBGYN, and a dentist as soon as she was enrolled in the office health plan. No rush to join a gym.

Life would sure have been less complicated if she'd accepted a position with another San Diego station.

I'm glad I didn't. I need a change.

Better watch your step at the Station for the next few days.

A few days of Ellie's sympathetic sighs and Alice's triumphant expressions would be all she could stomach before doing something unladylike and in all likelihood certifiable to one of them.

Maybe I'll start my new book. If I can write fifty pages before I move, relocating shouldn't interrupt my progress.

She swiped away a tear.
I'd planned to model my next alpha hero after Carlo.

Darn.

She needed a vacation. Maybe she could take a few days off before the move?

Where would I go?

Cancun?

Travel to a favorite honeymoon destination alone?

No way.

Darn.

She could rent a cabin at Idyllwild and hike to the Palm Springs Tramway for lunch.

Not likely. I'd want Carlo along.

Darn.

As the train passed through Anaheim Allison squeezed her eyes shut. Exploring Disneyland without Carlo to share the fun would be a drag.

Darn.

The miles clicked by. When her head began to nod she crossed her arms on the table before her and rested her head on her arms.

She woke when the conductor called, "Old Town" and lifted her head.

By the time the train pulled into Union Station she was fully awake and the sun about to set over the Point Loma peninsula.

No one offered to help with her luggage.

Damn, Carlo.

She missed his thoughtful gestures far more than she'd thought possible.

––––––––

D
uring the next week Allison gave notice at the station, subscribed to the LA Times, and cancelled her gym membership. At night, she packed a little, tossed out a lot, including the opened packages of staples in her pantry.

She even placed a few calls about places for rent.

What's the best way to find out the safest areas of LA for a single woman to live?

Maybe Rachael knows. Her college roommate had lived in Century City for over three years.

Early the following evening Allison called her and was delighted when Rachael offered her the use of her condo for the three months Rachael would be touring Europe. Allison accepted on the spot, since her friend planned to leave the first of July.

My work days drag. My packing time flies by but sleep eludes me.

How am I ever going to get this all done?

She struggled out of bed each morning and worked her shift. At night she jogged at least five miles before showering and grabbing a bite to eat.

My social life is nonexistent, my to-do list endless, and my feet are dragging. I'm losing weight and have no reason to get out of bed.

She ate another bite.
No that's wrong.

I
do
have a new job to prepare for.

The thought put renewed spring in Allison's step as she put her soiled dishes in the sink and straightened the living room.

I'll soon be living and working in a new city.

One closer to Carlo.

Darn.

Allison decided not to give notice on her apartment for two more months. She could easily pay the rent on two apartments, and wanted to be certain she picked the right area of LA to live in before she completed the move.

She remembered driving through Studio City once on her way to Universal Studios, but she'd never dreamed she would someday be weighing the wisdom of moving there.

Living in Rachael's condo for a few weeks would give her time to get her bearings and make arrangements to move.

Once she decided the order in which she needed to do things and could plan her future in greater detail, her days and night flew by.

She fell into bed exhausted and resumed packing and sorting as the sun rose.

The end of June and its gloomy days finally came. She said goodbye to her coworkers, took the ferry to Catalina, and for three days moped on the fogged-in beach in front of her hotel. Giving her dinner order to a waiter was about the only time she spoke.

The island's socked-in weather matched her mood. Even strolling through the quaint shops along the picturesque harbor failed to brighten her gloomy outlook. She couldn't
wait
to start her new job.

In the quiet evenings she pounded on her laptop, completing another sixty pages of her novel before she returned to San Diego, loaded her SUV, and set out on the first leg of her move.

Ready or not, LA, here I come.

*****

"O
h-h," Carlo groaned, trying his damndest to lift his right leg higher.

"That's it. More," his determined therapist urged.

"There," he said between gritted teeth, panting like an overheated dog.

He'd had some good days, but far too many bad ones. This session was going well. He'd quickly progressed from wheelchair to walker, and then to a cane.

His right leg had healed quickly and for the most part, without pain. The bullet that pierced his left calf, leaving a small entrance wound had ricocheted off bone and plowed a path through muscle before stopping. The injury had required extensive surgery the day of the shooting to remove the bullet and repair the damage.

For the first time in memory, when the nurses released his legs from traction he'd cried.

His therapy sessions became lessons in perseverance and teeth grinding, but now even those were coming to an end.

The therapist promised tomorrow would be his last day in her torture chamber.

Too bad. She was sweet, gentle, and available. She'd let him know on his first day of therapy. The two of them had shared some painful moments, and many poignant ones he didn't care to revisit.

Now his worst fear was nighttime leg cramps, which hurt like hell.

I'd sooner wear full body armor than risk being shot again.

He'd lost two full months of his life, a life that had nearly ended on those hotel stairs.

Allison had—

Don't.

Remembering the way her eyes danced when she teased him about being an alpha male hurt more than any cramp.

Thank God she can't see me now.

Hospitals and nursing home employees were experts at finding ways to castrate a man without ever laying a hand on him.

At least I won't have to sit at home and feel sorry for myself for the last month of my rehab.

He had it all planned, and couldn't wait to start jogging again. Slow at first, of necessity, but he needed to regain the weight he'd lost and strengthen his legs so he could pass the required physical and return to work.

Internal Affairs harbored doubts about his mental stability and remained the last hurdle he had to clear before being allowed to return to work.

Getting anything past them was next to impossible, he'd learned.

For now, he had too much time on his hands, giving him way too much time to relive the moments leading up to his fateful encounter with Ram.

Haunted by unanswerable questions, he again went over his actions on the day of the shooting.

Could I have gotten off a shot sooner without endangering Allison?

Why hadn't he tried to distract the shooter long enough to nail the perp and not Allison?

I wanted to quickly end the confrontation, but withheld fire to assure Allison's safety.

IA believes his emotional ties to Allison nearly got him killed.

The perp got off three shots.

Carlo's lone shot had gone wild as his legs went out from under him.

To my knowledge that was the first shot fired at a perp I ever had go wild,
a thought that didn't ease his conscience one bit.

Had he let his relationship with Allison put her even further at risk?