Shattered Dreams (16 page)

Tears threatened. The sincerity in Crystal’s eyes as well as the genuine concern in her words affected Claire. She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she just nodded.

“Have you two decided?”

The waitress’s interruption saved Claire from having to say more. The brief distraction allowed her enough time to compose herself.

Once the waitress had plopped two salads in front of them, Claire asked nonchalantly as she picked up her fork, “Working on any interesting cases?”

“One big one, besides Jason’s,” Crystal answered. “A high-profile divorce. Can’t talk about it because we’re in the middle of negotiations.” She sighed, took another forkful of food, and chewed thoroughly before swallowing. “It’s amazing what people who promise to love, honor, and cherish till death will stoop to for money once they forget they made those vows.”

“We’re fools when we fall in love.” Claire’s smile turned rueful. “I’m a perfect example.”

“Maybe. But you’re also honoring him in a way he doesn’t deserve.”

Her laughter burst free. “That’s not for him. That’s for me. I want to be able to look back twenty years from now and be proud of the way I walked away. I may hate Carl, but I won’t let him change me.”

Crystal frowned. “You’re a better person than I could ever be. You always have been, even when we were younger.”

“Why do you say that?”

All humor died as thoughts of their childhood flitted through Claire’s brain. At one time, the two had been very similar in personalities. When had they taken such separate roads?

“I’ve always had the impression you were a bit contemptuous about my nice ways.”

“Jealousy?” Crystal shrugged. “Who knows?” Then she smiled and added in a cynical voice, “God, listen to me. I’m turning soft. I’ve got to get laid.”

Claire laughed again. Leave it to Crystal to say something so outrageous. Oh, how she had missed her sister over these last three years.

She took another sip of water before changing the subject. Maybe time did heal wounds of the past, after all.

Chapter 19

Jason charged into the racquet club Monday afternoon and headed for the locker room. Spying Jimbo already seated at a bench tying his shoes, he hurried up to him.

“I have to pick up the girls from school by six, so I only have time to play a few games,” he said, opening a locker while unbuttoning his shirt. “We’re going to their favorite restaurant for dinner.”

“How can you eat that shit?”

“It’s not bad.”

“Sure it is. You’ve read about the guy who ate fast food every day for a month? Gained thirty pounds.”

“Yeah. But that was three meals a day, and he had to super-size the meal if the clerk suggested it.” Jason grinned. Jimbo always gave him grief about the girls’ choice. “A meal at Mickey D’s every two to four weeks isn’t gonna kill me, and I play enough tennis with you to stay fit,” he added.

He left out his thoughts about how Jimbo couldn’t understand because he didn’t have kids. Only someone with children could understand the draw of fast food toys with kids’ meals. Amelia was starting to outgrow it, but not enough to say no. Chloe was a romantic and still loved collecting anything to do with her favorite movies.

“It’s your body.”

“Your turn’s coming,” he said softly.

“What?”

“Nothing. Forget it.” He tucked in his shirt, slammed the locker shut, and grabbed his tennis racquet. “Let’s go.”

Jimbo trailed behind him, saying in his Texas drawl, “Nothing, my ass. Tell me.”

“You judge life as a single person. Priorities change when you have kids.”

“Good thing I plan on staying single.”

“That’s only talk. You were throwing out the L-word not so long ago.”

Jimbo snorted. “Won’t be making that mistake again.”

Even though he spoke in a jovial manner, Jason knew it was all an act. He’d spent too many nights listening to his friend rant and rave about Crystal’s actions three months ago, about the information he’d uncovered, and about how Crystal had tried to deny it all, saying she had an explanation. Maybe it was time to hear an explanation.

“She wasn’t having an affair with Carter,” Jason said as he opened the door to the courts.

“You on drugs?” Jimbo’s expression turned skeptical. “She was at the hotel last week visiting the bastard. Before that I saw pictures. Saw a report with details.” He pushed past him and started for the far court that was empty.

“You can’t believe everything you see.”

Stopping in mid-stride, Jimbo pivoted. “The pictures I saw made it hard to believe anything else.”

“Not if it was set up to look that way.” He smiled at his friend’s obstinate stance.

Jimbo’s narrowed gaze scrutinized his face as if searching for hidden meaning. He shook his head and resumed walking. “Doesn’t matter.”

Jason followed him as far as the net. “You don’t even want to know what I found out?”

“No.”

“You should listen.”

“No. You gonna play or jabber?” Jimbo moved to the corner behind the line and got into position to play, bouncing a tennis ball first off the racquet and then on the court a couple of times. “You ready?”

“You’re one stubborn son of a bitch, you know that?” Jason yelled before retracing his steps to the back of the court. “Go ahead. Serve.”

They played a fast set—one that Jimbo won.

“It’s a good thing I have to leave,” Jason said. “My ego can’t take two sets.”

“You were starting to come alive.”

“Yeah, right.” Jason grunted as he picked up a towel and wiped his face. Both started for the locker room. “I can’t beat you when you’re out for blood. That look says it all.”

“There’s no look.”

“Yeah, there is, and I know why it’s there. Talk to Crystal, if you don’t want to listen to me.”

“Damn, Roberts. You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

Jimbo took the towel from around his neck and wiped the sweat off his face before he grabbed his clothes, along with another towel, and stalked toward the showers.

Jason snatched his stuff and followed. “You’re being a jackass. Worse! A jackass has more brains.”

“Drop it.”

“You should listen to what I have to say. Then if you still feel the same way, I’ll drop it.”

“Shit!” Slamming the side of a fist into the tile while his face contorted in anguish, Jimbo hissed, “I spent two frickin’ months trying to forget her. Nothing you can say will make me want to go there again.”

Despite the pain in his friend’s eyes, Jason persisted, unable to let the subject go without another try. “Let me ask you this. Did you listen to her explanation?”

“All of a sudden you’re defending her. Why?”

He shrugged. “Everyone deserves defending. Everyone has motivations for doing what they do. You should listen to hers.”

Jimbo muttered a strong expletive under his breath while shaking his head and raking a hand through his dark brown hair. “Seems to me your opinion of Crystal was lower than mine, and now you’re her champion. God, Roberts, you’re taking this motivation shit too far.”

He turned his back and stepped into the shower, ignoring Jason while he lathered up.

Jason sighed. Cursing his friend’s stubbornness, he stepped under the water and quickly showered. After drying off, he dressed. Neither said another word.

Finally, Jason grabbed his bag, ready to leave. “I have to pick up my girls. If you ever lose that stubborn streak and decide you’d like to know more details, give me a holler.”

Without saying another word, he turned and stalked out.

• • •

Two nights later, Jason and the girls were just finishing dinner when the doorbell rang. He pushed back from the table and stood. “Whose turn is it for dishes?”

“Mine.” Amelia rolled her eyes.

“Ha, ha.” Chloe stuck out her tongue.

“Twerp. Help me clear the table.”

“No. It’s not my turn.” Chloe got up and dashed out of the room.

“Dad? Why can’t she help me? You made me help her last night.”

“You’re older. So just do it,” he said on his way to the living room, ignoring their usual squabbling. Lately, it seemed they were always at it. “And don’t worry about Chloe.”

Amelia scowled. “Stupid sisters. I hate being the oldest. It sucks.”

Jason smiled, remembering a time when he’d said much the same thing to his mother about his younger brother. His smile broadened when he realized he’d just now repeated almost word for word his mother’s response.
Damn
! He was turning into his mother.

When he opened the door, his eyebrows rose with surprise. Jim O’Malley stood in front of him.

“Hey. Got a minute?” Jimbo asked.

“Sure. Come on in. I’m glad you showed up. I’ve pulled up the linoleum in the master bath and could use another pair of hands.” He stood aside and waited until Jimbo was inside before asking, “Have you eaten? I’ve got leftovers.”

He shrugged. “I could eat. Sure you don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I did.” Jason led him into the dining room and pointed to a chair. “Sit. I’ll bring you a plate.” He turned and said over his shoulder, “You want a beer?”

Jimbo’s
yeah
registered as he entered the kitchen. Amelia was busy rinsing dishes and placing them in the dishwasher.

“Chloe could’ve helped. I always have to do more’n her.”

When she offered him a petulant pout, Jason snorted. “Get used to it.” He pulled out a plate and began filling it with food that hadn’t been put away yet. “You’re the oldest, so more is expected of you. That’s life, kiddo.”

“It’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not, but nothing will ever change the fact that you’re two years older. If it makes you feel any better, she’s stuck being the youngest.” Jason moved to the refrigerator and rooted through it, grabbing a beer. “That has its own set of problems.”

“What’s so hard about that? All she does is act annoying and follow my every move.”

“It’s called hero worship, and you know you love it. How about if I let you pick out the movie to watch tonight?”

“Really?” Amelia’s eyes lit up with mischief, and she giggled.

He nodded. “When you’re done, go on up. Uncle Jim’s here. We’ll probably spend an hour or so working on the bathroom. Then I’ll be up for the ending. Okay?”

“Sure, but I’m picking something she hates.”

Ah yes.

He lifted Jimbo’s plate, along with the beer, and headed for the dining room. Amelia was becoming more like him every day, employing the same subtle tricks he’d always used to annoy his younger brother.

Coming up to the table, he placed both the plate and beer in front of Jimbo. Then he sat next to him, grabbed the wine bottle, and poured himself another glass.

After silently observing his friend eat for several minutes, he asked, “So, what’s up?”

Jimbo shrugged and continued eating.

Jason sighed and took another sip, and slumped into the chair to wait. Jimbo would eventually get around to the reason for the impromptu Wednesday-night visit.

His friend must really need to talk, he surmised, when no more than five minutes passed before he said, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Maybe I
am
missing some details.” Jimbo gulped a hefty swig of beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “When I ran into Crystal last week at the Ocean View, something about her parting shot and attitude got to me, especially after listening to your jabbering.”

“And?”

Forty-eight hours was a record for his stubborn friend. Jason’s fingers went to the stem of his wineglass. He swirled the dark red liquid inside the bowl, eyeing it.

“I gotta hear Crystal’s explanation.”

“Maybe you should talk to her.”

“She’ll just tell me to go to hell.” Jimbo sighed and rubbed his face. Then he pushed the empty plate away and sat back. “That woman has more piss ’n vinegar than any woman I’ve ever dealt with.”

“Crystal can be a handful,” Jason agreed, using the act of sipping wine to hide his smile.

“Fricking understatement.” Jimbo grunted. “Unfortunately, it’s the same aspect that attracts me. I never know what to expect from her. It’s goddamned exciting, but it’s also frustrating at times.”

Jason laughed and stood. “Come on. Let’s go tear up the bathroom and work off that frustration. I’ll tell you everything I know.”

Chapter 20

Two weeks later

Jason stood ready to head out the door, thankful it was Friday. It had been three weeks since his sail with Claire, and although he hadn’t spoken to her, she was never far from his thoughts.

His desk phone rang, and he paused from stuffing his laptop inside his briefcase. After answering, he recognized Deputy Snyder’s greeting.

“What’s up?” Cradling the phone between neck and ear, he shoved the device the rest of the way in the case, zipped it up, and set it aside.

“Actually, it’s not you I need to talk to. I’m trying to reach your client.”

Jason stilled. “She’s not my client any longer, remember?”

“Yes, but I was hoping you’d know how to get in touch with her. She’s out of her office, her cell phone’s off, and she’s not answering her home number.”

Jason sat down and swiveled his chair around. “Why do you want to reach my ex-client?” he asked, searching the horizon. “I thought your investigation ended.”

“New developments. Fishermen found a body that washed up along the shoreline. A straight shot in from where she was anchored. Body’s beyond recognition with no identification. Can’t get any fingerprints because the fingers have been nibbled on, so he’s classified as a John Doe. Coroner says preliminary COD indicates he was stabbed to death.”

“You can’t be thinking it’s Carter? He’s alive and kicking, according to my investigator.”

“I know it’s a long stretch, considering the timing. Especially since you called and filled me in on his whereabouts.” The deputy broke off and heaved an audible sigh into the phone. “This guy’s been dead for a few weeks. But it’s my only lead, so I’d thought I might as well follow up on it. I called the Ocean View Resort asking for Carter, but apparently he checked out over a week ago. I’d like to speak with Claire Carter as soon as possible. Ask some questions that are niggling in my mind.”