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Authors: Ellen Hart

BOOK: Night Vision
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“And you believed her?”
“I don't know what to believe, Gordon! Is it true?”
He pulled the truck to a stop along the dark road. Without looking at her he said, “Yes, I did serve time in prison. But the stalking part never happened. I got mixed up with a nasty woman, a movie star. I dumped her and she retaliated. It's that simple. She didn't know where I was for years, but now she's found me again. She's trying to ruin me. It's an obsession. That woman who talked to you tonight, it's all part of Joanna's revenge. If she breaks us up, Brandy, she'll have won. Do you see that? Don't let her win, please God, don't believe the crap that woman told you.”
She felt more conflicted than she'd ever felt before in her life. “I want to believe you.”
“Then
do,
” he said, looking up at her, putting his arm around her,
pulling her close. “Do you seriously believe I'd ever hurt you—or anyone? I know I have a temper. And I know I'm not perfect, but I love you. You're my life.”
He kissed her so tenderly that for a moment, in spite of what she'd just heard, she relaxed.
And then he asked her for the piece of paper the woman had given her.
“It's her business card.”
“You don't need it, do you?”
“No,” she said, slowly taking it out of her pocket and handing it to him. “I guess not.”
 
 
Bel Air, California
Spring 1989
 
 
J
oanna was lying in a chaise by the pool when Gordon finally returned, shortly after midnight. The evening breeze was cool and soft, a perfect Southern California night. All the lights were on around the pool, which allowed Gordon to see the look on her face from the entrance gate. He must have seen that something was wrong because he stopped about ten feet away and stared hard. “What?” he said, lowering his arms to his sides.
He was barefoot, jeans rolled up past his ankles, with a yellow cotton shirt open to his waist. He looked good enough to eat, but Joanna refused to be distracted. Not this time.
“What's wrong?” he asked again. “You look … funny.”
“Do I?” For the first time, all of it came together. She saw what he was, the lies, the charm. He was simply better at it than most. He'd deciphered her vulnerabilities with the skill of a surgeon. He'd played on her insecurities, promised her a love only a pillar of salt wouldn't have grabbed for. And all the while, he'd been laughing at her. What a sucker she was. What a pumped-up Hollywood big shot, a woman who was so pathetically impressed by a man
unimpressed
with her celebrity that she nearly wet her pants when he talked down to her.
“Joanna, say something. Is it because I wanted to drive up to Sausalito tomorrow and you said you couldn't go? Look, I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have pushed you.”
“No. You shouldn't have.”
He hesitated. “Did something else happen while I was gone?”
“Yeah,” she said, lifting her legs off the chaise and standing up. “I found my brain.”
He frowned, raised his hands to his hips. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“I packed up the clothes you brought over. They're in a box on the patio. Take them and get out.”
His face hardened. “Why are you doing this? I love you.”
She laughed. “You love a lot of things around here, Gordon, but I'm not one of them.”
She could see the flicker of confusion in his eyes. He wasn't sure what had happened and didn't quite know how to arrange his face, what emotional note to play. She'd never seen him in the act of searching for the correct manipulative path. He'd always done it so effortlessly before. She flashed to his comment, that he could see into her soul. She'd believed he could, berated herself for not being able to see into his. Now she understood why it wasn't possible. Gordon didn't have a soul. He had a body, an intellect, and an ego. That was the sum and substance of Gordon Luberman.
Frowning with just a hint of anger, but then thinking better of it and turning the frown to a look of deep sadness, he said, “You owe me an explanation.”
“No, I don't. I don't owe you a goddamn thing.”
“Someone must have talked to you. Joanna, there are people in this town who don't like me. I didn't think I needed to warn you about them, but maybe I should have. Who was it? Who came over here?”
“No one,” she said calmly.
“Then … I don't understand.”
“I called David.”
His face went blank.
“My brother. He's back in Atlanta. We had a long talk.”
“You have to understand—”
“No, I don't. I don't need to hear the spin you're about to put on it. You told my brother to leave—that it was what
I
wanted. You lied to him!”
“I didn't mean—”
“What? What didn't you mean?”
“He's a deviant freak, Joanna. He and that Mexican guy he's with. How could you even stand to look at them, knowing what they were doing in that bungalow?”
“They love each other, Gordon. But then I don't expect you to understand that. If you're speaking specifically about the sex part, leave me out of your prehistoric prejudices. You don't speak for me,
ever
. Got it?” She was so mad, she was shaking.
“They're disgusting.”
“
You're
disgusting. Get the hell out of here and don't come back.”
She could see him flailing around, trying to figure out the best tactic. But in the end, he knew better. Say what you would about him, Gordon wasn't a stupid man. He could see he'd lost. What Joanna didn't realize was that he viewed this as one skirmish in a long war, while she thought she'd planted the flag for God and country and that he'd surrendered.
 
The next morning, Joanna watched from behind the curtains in the living room as a gray delivery truck pulled up in the circular drive in front of her house and a man got out holding a large pink package. When she opened the front door, the man handed it to her, made her sign for it, and then left.
Walking the package over to the dining room table, she ripped off the paper and found a dozen red tea roses inside. And a card.
Darling, I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you, I swear. I love you more than I have words to tell you, but surely you can feel my arms around you, even now. I'll call.
Gordon
“Damn him,” she thought. She took the flowers out to the garbage bin by the garage and dropped them in, rubbing her hands together with satisfaction.
 
Later that afternoon, as she was paging through a bunch of screenplays her agent had sent over, the phone call came.
“Hi, sweetheart. Don't talk. Just give me a minute to explain. First, I love you more than life itself.”
Funny how his words seemed so empty, even trite now. Joanna listened for a few minutes as his deep voice crooned its usual blather, then cut him off.
“Gordon, stop. Apparently you didn't get the message last night. Our relationship is over. O-V-E-R. Don't call me again.” She slammed the phone down, assuming that would be the end of it.
It wasn't.
When she left the house that night, she looked in her rearview mirror and realized he was following her. He must have been outside the house, waiting for her to leave. He tailed her all the way to West Hollywood, where she was meeting a director for dinner. As she was being seated, she saw Gordon enter the restaurant, take off his dark glasses, and stand near the reception desk, waiting to be seated himself.
So this was the way he was going to play it. Joanna decided to ignore him. Eventually he'd get tired and go away. He sat alone at a table not far away and stared at her through the entire meal. And then, on the way home, he followed her again.
After she'd put her car away in the garage, she walked out to his truck. “Leave me alone.”
“Not until you let me apologize.”
It was dark and beginning to drizzle. “You can apologize all you want, it's not going to change anything.”
“Joanna, don't be like that. I was just protecting you.”
“From my
brother
?”
“From an influence that I thought was negative. I was wrong, okay? I shouldn't have done it. I overstepped, but God, Joanna, give a guy a break. I told you that if I fell for you, it wouldn't be just a casual thing. Nothing's changed for me. You're still the center of my life. Can't you just give me one more chance? Other than the mess I made with your brother, have I ever hurt you? All I've done is try to love you the best I could. That's all any man can do. I'm not perfect, Jo. I never said I was. But love should count for something.”
He was so good at it, but she wasn't buying the line anymore. “It's over, Gordon. I can't produce feelings that aren't there anymore.”
“How can you be so cold?”
“I'm not cold, I'm just not in love with you. Maybe I never was.” She backed
away from the truck. “Have a good life, Gordon.” She turned and dashed around the side of the house. When she got inside, she rushed to the front windows. His truck hadn't moved.
She made sure all the doors and windows were locked, checked that the security system was on, then went upstairs, got undressed, and took a long hot shower. She wanted the steam and the spray to wash away—to erase—every trace of Gordon. She wished she'd never met him.
Before she turned out the lights that night and went to bed, she crossed over to her second-floor study and looked down on the front drive.
The truck was still there.
“Y
ou really
can
fly this thing, right?” said David, staring out the window of the Cessna, gripping the seat as the ground dropped away under him. He and Jane had just taken off from Flying Cloud field.
“If I can't,” said Jane, “you're in big trouble.”
“Very funny. FYI, I didn't get in until late last night, so my nerves are already shot. Be nice to me or I might have a nervous breakdown all over you.”
“If you're sleepy, go ahead and rest. These seats are amazingly comfortable.”
“No, no,” he said quickly, sitting forward and looking around. “I'm wide awake. No sleeping for this boy. I close my eyes and I might not wake up.”
She thumped his arm. “How's Joanna this morning?”
Jane hadn't told Joanna about her confrontation with Luberman last night. She hadn't told Cordelia either, mainly because Cordelia was asleep when Jane got back from Eagle Ridge, and she was still in bed this morning when Jane left.
Getting out of town right now seemed like the smart thing to do. Jane had placed herself squarely in Luberman's sights last night. She
had no expectations that he'd cooled off. On the other hand, even if he got her address from the DMV, he'd have a hard time finding her if she was in Nebraska. When she returned home, she wouldn't be returning to her house, since it was unlivable at the moment. She also had no plans to spend any time at either of her restaurants. If Luberman couldn't find her, she wasn't in any immediate danger. If Brandy told him what they'd talked about, he was probably on his way to Minneapolis right now with a loaded gun. But Jane had the sense that whatever Brandy told him, she'd keep it to a minimum. Brandy had Jane's cell phone number. If things turned ugly, Jane had to trust that she'd call.
“Man, you couldn't give me my sister's life,” said David, glancing sideways out the window. “Well, maybe you could at the moment, but being in the public eye—being a celebrity—is hard work. Ever since Joanna broke out with that first film, she's been like a human Rorschach test. People don't see her at all, they just see what they want to see. I read once that Michelle Pfeiffer said she acts for free, but she charges for the inconvenience of being famous. If that doesn't say it all.”
“But Joanna never seems to let anybody too close. Cordelia's one of her oldest and best friends, but it's always seemed kind of superficial to me.”
“I've got a theory about that,” said David. He unzipped his brown suede jacket, fluttered his arms trying to relax them. “I could be wrong, but I think Joanna's always thought that if people truly got to know her—the real her—they'd think, Jeez, she's really nothing at all. She's, like, this adored creature, but she feels like an impostor. Did you know that movie stars are nearly four times more likely to kill themselves than average Americans?”
Jane felt more sorry for Joanna than she'd ever thought possible.
As they moved up through the thermals, David closed his eyes and tightened his seat belt. “Is this normal turbulence? I mean, it's a clear day. Shouldn't it be calm?”
“There's always some turbulence. Don't worry. This plane has lots of power.”
“Power,” he repeated, as if he didn't quite believe her. “Power is good.”
The plane nosed up through the blue morning sky, banking westward, leveling off.
“If you want, I can show you some of the basics,” said Jane. “Who knows, you might enjoy becoming a pilot.”
“Oh, yes indeedie. Becoming a pilot of a Minnie Mouse planelet is right up there on the list of things I
must
do before I die—directly after I master the basics of marine biology.”
“Okay.”
“Just get us there safely and
fast
and I'll be a happy man.”
“Kenzie is meeting us at the airstrip. She'll drive us back to her place. It's out in the country, really beautiful. You'll love her, David. And she'll love you, I'm sure of it.” She covered his hand with hers. “You doing okay?”
“Fine.”
They both knew it was an absurd statement. Laughingly meaningless. He wasn't even in the same universe as fine.
“Kenzie a good cook?”
“Ah, no. Can't have everything. But she buys a mean steak.”
David nodded to Jane's boots. “She's the one who's influenced your move toward your inner cowboy?”
“Don't be snide.” She looked over at him and smiled. She wanted so much for this to be a good trip. It was a touchy thing introducing two people she cared about so deeply, not knowing if they'd even get along, let alone like each other. She felt that David was on the edge of something truly scary. The dark circles under his eyes looked worse every time she saw him. It might be selfish, but she hoped that if he was about to come apart at the seams that he wouldn't do it in Kenzie's living room.
 
By seven that evening, they were all sitting on the deck behind Kenzie's old farmhouse, drinking mojitos and watching the sun set over the golden fields. Much to Jane's relief, Kenzie and David hit it off immediately. On the way in from the local airfield, they'd begun
insulting each other and by late afternoon, they were acting like old friends.
As soon as they reached the ranch, Kenzie insisted that David come out to the barn to meet her horses. She let them out into the field to run around while they all sat on the fence and watched. David seemed to relax for the first time since he'd come back to the Midwest. Jane took it as a good sign.
After a dinner of grilled steak, baked potatoes, and a tossed green salad, David excused himself to go upstairs. He wanted to call Diego and then take a shower. It was going on ten. He told Kenzie that when he came back down, he expected “the women of the house” to have his pipe and slippers ready for him. Kenzie countered by suggesting he might want to get to bed soon because he was scheduled to muck out the barn in the morning.
“‘Muck' isn't in my official Funk and Wagnals Gay Dictionary,” said David on his way up the stairs, “so I have no idea what you're talking about. On the other hand, if the barn needs a good interior redesign, you're in luck.”
After he'd disappeared upstairs, Kenzie leaned toward Jane and whispered, “He's wonderful. Everything you said he'd be.”
They sat for a few minutes, finishing their beers.
Pressing her hand over the cracked surface of the pine table, Jane said, “The problem is, something's bothering him. Something serious. But he won't tell me what it is.”
“He
is
wound pretty tight.”
“You can tell?”
“In case nobody's mentioned this to you lately, Lawless, so are you.”
Jane leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “Maybe. But he came to Minnesota to see me. He wants my help. I think he would have talked to me the morning after he arrived, but then this thing happened at my house. He was terribly embarrassed, so he just shut down. Whatever it is that's upsetting him, I can tell he's scared. Really scared.”
Kenzie got up from the table, carrying the plates and silverware into the kitchen.
Jane followed with the glassware. They set everything on the counter, then moved toward each other. To Jane, Kenzie felt like everything good, everything warm and safe in her life.
“I know you're worried about him,” said Kenzie, resting her arms on Jane's shoulders. “But you can't make him do what he refuses to do. He'll either tell you what's on his mind, or he won't. I suggest, since he's not in any immediate danger, that until he makes a decision, you concentrate your efforts on other matters.”
“For instance?”
“Me.”
“You, huh.”
“I haven't seen you in three weeks!”
“Feels like years.”
“But you've got that plane now, Lawless, except it sure must have lots of
terrible
mechanical problems with it because you never use it.”
Kenzie joked a lot, but Jane could always tell when the jokes stopped and the serious comments began. And this was serious. “It's the club, sweetheart. You're right, I get a little … overinvolved sometimes.”
“Try the word ‘workaholic' on for size. See if it fits.”
“Okay, okay. But it's up and running now. Doing well. The first year is so important in the life of a restaurant.”
“And you're indispensable.”
“Well—”
“So let's agree, you
are
indispensable. But you're indispensable in more than one place. You need to spread some of that indispensability around.”
“I'll remember that. Actually, after David and I fly home tomorrow, I've got only one other matter I need to deal with and then I'll be back.”
“You mean your trashed house.”
“Well, yeah. There's that. But David's taking care of it.”
“Then what?” She looked at Jane hard. “Tell me it doesn't have anything to do with that PI buddy of yours.”
Jane hadn't mentioned anything about Gordon Luberman to
Kenzie because she wasn't sure how long it would take to make progress toward a solution. And she also knew Kenzie wouldn't be thrilled to hear that Jane was working on a case with Nolan. “Well, actually—”
“Be honest with me here, Lawless. Are you putting your life in danger again for some stupid, dumb-ass reason?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. I promise. I'll be back in a few days. By the time I have to leave to go back home, you'll be sick of me.”
Kenzie drew Jane against her. “Not much chance of that.”
Glancing at the kitchen counter, Jane said, “Let's leave the dishes for David. He can put them in the dishwasher as easily as we can.”
“Love the way your mind works, Lawless. When he's done, he can smoke his pipe
and
slippers. They probably taste about the same.”
“Besides, he's a night owl,” said Jane, caressing the small of Kenzie's back. “And I'm kind of … sleepy all of a sudden. Aren't you?”
“Can hardly stand up straight.”
“So we should probably hit the sack.”
“He'll understand that exhaustion overtook us.”
“Exhaustion,” said Jane, closing her eyes as Kenzie kissed her, shivered against her. When they were together, it was as if Kenzie could reach inside and pull the one thread that unraveled all the connections that normally held Jane upright. “God, but I've missed you,” she whispered.
As they were on their way up the stairs, Jane remembered that David had asked her earlier about getting the keys to Kenzie's truck for him. He said that if he had trouble sleeping, he liked to drive around. It settled him down. But Jane didn't want to break the mood. One night without access to wheels couldn't be that big a deal. Holding hands, Jane and Kenzie entered the bedroom and shut the door behind them.
 
In the middle of the night, Jane's eyes blinked open. The bedroom was dark except for the tiny red glow from the digital alarm clock on the nightstand and the weak moonlight streaming in through the open window. The red numbers said two forty-three.
Jane wasn't sure why she'd awakened so suddenly. As she lay in Kenzie's arms, listening, getting her bearings, she had a nagging feeling that she should check on David.
It took almost a minute to disengage herself from Kenzie without waking her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pulled on her jeans and sweatshirt. She found her boots and socks near the foot of the bed and left the room, closing the door behind her. She stopped by David's room first but found that it was empty. The bed didn't look like it had been slept in.
Tiptoeing down the drafty farmhouse stairway to the first floor, she sat on the piano bench in the living room and yanked on her socks and boots. Glancing to her right, she noticed that there was a dim light flickering in the sunroom at the back of the house. She assumed that David was up watching TV, although he must have the volume pretty low because she couldn't hear a sound.
When she entered the room, she saw that someone had been sleeping on the couch. The side pillows had been propped against one end, and an afghan was bunched up at the other. An empty fifth of rum was lying sideways on the floor next to the couch. The bottle bothered her. David had been drinking too much lately. She felt guilty now for disappearing the way she had. She should have at least said good night. Maybe he felt abandoned when he came down and found that Jane and Kenzie had gone to bed, although he would certainly understand that they hadn't seen each other in weeks. Still, it bothered her.
Opening the double doors to the back deck, she stepped out into the dark country night. A cloud partially obscured the half-moon, but as it sailed away, she could just make out the forms of Ben and Rocket standing outside the fence, their heads down in the grass. A light was on in the barn. Kenzie would never leave the light on and the horses out at night.

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