Pineapple Pack III

by Amy Vansant

  Three points of egress: Important! A window behind her desk and one on the side wall, in addition to the door through which he’d just walked.

  A desk, full of drawers, containing unknown weapons.

  A bookcase that could easily hide another cache of weapons.

  What looks like a toy grenade, but knowing her—

  She moved to a small table and rested her fingertips on a crystal decanter filled with tawny-colored liquid.

  “Something to drink?”

  “It’s nine-thirty in the morning.”

  “You have a point?”

  He noticed a finger of whiskey in the crystal glass sitting beside her laptop on her desk.

  “Not like you to drink when you’re in the middle of a campaign.”

  “What campaign is that?”

  He hesitated, unsure if he wanted to reveal that he’d recognized her attempt to manipulate him with his own childhood memories.

  “Making me come here in the hopes it would bother Charlotte.”

  She laughed. “I’d hardly call messing with your girlfriend a campaign.” She stepped closer to him. “Can’t I just miss you?”

  He held her gaze. “I wouldn’t underestimate Charlotte if I were you.”

  Stephanie scoffed and looked away. “How is sweet Charlotte?”

  “She’s fine.”

  “Little boring though, right?”

  “Stephanie, I swear to—”

  She laughed and held up a palm. “Sorry, sorry. Cheap shot.”

  Declan pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and opened it to reveal the oversized printout of a fingerprint. “Point me to the book I’m supposed to compare this to.”

  “Sure. Have a seat. I need to go over it with you.”

  He remained standing and she shrugged. Taking a large photo album from the bookshelf, she placed it on the desk in front of him.

  He glanced at her as she opened the book and she flashed him a smile. An almost shy smile.

  Something was off.

  Declan’s gaze flicked to the whiskey glass.

  That’s it. She’s half drunk.

  He didn’t like it. It wasn’t like Stephanie to take time planning her outfit and then muddle her brain and potentially miss a move on the imaginary chess board on which she lived her life.

  Declan turned his attention to the book, but the gears in his head continued to grind out Stephanie’s end game.

  A disturbing thought occurred to him.

  Am I reading too much into her outfit?

  Maybe that’s just the outfit she wore to work today. Maybe she didn’t care if she was a little buzzed during her interaction.

  Maybe she doesn’t care.

  That would be good. It didn’t help him sleep at night knowing a wildcard like his ex might be somewhere out there with him on her Machiavellian mind.

  But if that were the case, why had she insisted he come over? Why didn’t she let Charlotte compare the fingerprints?

  “Hello?”

  He snapped his attention back to Stephanie.

  He sniffed. “Sorry. Things at the shop on my mind.”

  Stephanie smoothed the pages of the opened book, standing close to him. When he peered down to look at the fingerprints, he couldn’t help but catch a bird’s eye view of her cleavage.

  “They’re fingerprints. I get it,” he said, trying to move things along.

  “Ah, but they’re more than that. See this little code down here?” she asked, pointing at two numbers written in the corner of the first fingerprint. There were two fingerprints on each page, printed out and sealed behind the album’s plastic pages. The second fingerprint on the page had three digits in the same lower right corner.

  “Yes?”

  “Code.”

  “For what?”

  She curled her long fingers around the nearly empty glass and raised it for a sip, her eyes locked on his. “Not entirely sure.”

  He closed the book and picked it up to tuck it beneath his arm. “Great. Do you have a spot I can start on this?”

  Stephanie put down the glass and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, the fabric balling in her fist. She tugged him towards her, staring up at him, her breath rising, covering him in a cloud of sweet whisky-scented air.

  “You think I want you back, but you’re wrong,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “Good. Glad to hear it.” He tried to turn and go but she tugged him back.

  “I just want us to have fun again.” She bit her lip and grinned, as if the pressure of her teeth on her lower lip served as the only thing restraining her from kissing him.

  He raised a hand and placed it on her upper arm.

  “Stephanie, I’ll be honest. Now that you mention it, there’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for a very long time.”

  Her smile broadened.

  “What’s that?”

  He leaned in and whispered into her ear. “You need to seek the help of a licensed, professional therapist.”

  She jerked back, releasing him.

  “Take the book,” she snapped.

  “What?”

  “Take the book. She can have it. She’ll still do what I asked her. I don’t need to hold the book over her. That’s the kind of girl she is, right?”

  She perched herself on the edge of the desk and crossed her legs.

  Declan hesitated. Such sudden acquiescence had to be a trap. “I can take the whole book?”

  She waved him away. “Go.”

  “Okay.”

  He’d nearly made it to the threshold of her office door when she cried out behind him.

  “Wait!”

  He turned, struck by the desperation in her voice.

  She strode across the room to him, moving in heels with the ease another woman might have walking barefoot.

  “What if I changed?” she asked, a crack in her voice.

  “What?”

  “What if I changed? What if I was good? Like Charlotte?”

  Stephanie’s eyes rimmed with tears.

  Declan felt his cheek twitch. He’d seen Stephanie’s crocodile tears too many times to fall for them again. But something about her expression...

  Is this true emotion?

  If it was, it was even more terrifying.

  He sighed. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I don’t have the time for your games today.”

  He turned to leave.

  She grabbed his arm. “I need you.”

  “Stephanie, we’re not doing this again.”

  She shook her head, almost violently. “You don’t understand. It’s different this time. I need you. You’re the only one who knows me. Hell, I don’t know me. You do. I need you to ground me.”

  Declan took a deep breath. “When I left you in South America, I asked you to come with me. I told you life there wasn’t healthy for you. Not with your...family predilections.”

  “And I did. I came back.”

  “Months later. Months you spent down there, killing people under the guise of fighting the good fight. Months without me acting as your conscience.”

  Stephanie curled her hand into a fist and held it against her quivering lips. “But I did come back.”

  “You did. And I tried to mend the damage. And then you cheated on me and ran away with a polo player.”

  “But I’m back again now.”

  “That’s not how love works.”

  “It has to!” She screamed the words, shaking both fists at him, tears flowing down her cheeks.

  Declan wrapped his fingers around Stephanie’s wrists and pulled her hands towards him, taking them in his own.

  “Hey. Breathe.”

  She closed her eyes. Her breathing slowed.

  “Good. Now listen to me.”

  She opened her eyes.

  Book still tucked beneath his arm, he held out her hands to either side of him. Keeping distance between them and himself felt like the wise thing to do. “Steph, I’ve alwa
ys felt responsible for you. I’ve watched over you since we were kids.”

  She nodded. “You’ve always been there for me.”

  “I know. But you have to understand. It took its toll on me. After you left the last time I had to make a decision. Was I going to take care of you? Or me? I couldn’t do both.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’re too much, Stephanie. You’re not well. You make me not well.” Declan heard the passion in his voice rise—heard the words before he said them—but he couldn’t stop them.

  “You’re like a disease.”

  Stephanie jerked her hands from his, her mouth agape. She stood that way, panting, until finally her mouth snapped shut and she spoke through gritted teeth.

  “I hate you.”

  He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I could have worded that more kindly.” He lowered his hand and opened his eyes. “But maybe not better.”

  She turned away. “So you give up? You’re officially giving up on me?”

  “I had to. I have to.”

  “Because of Charlotte?”

  “Not because of Charlotte. I told you. I made this decision a long time ago. And doing it didn’t mean it was easy for me to trust someone new. I didn’t think I ever would.”

  Stephanie sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “But you trust Charlotte with your heart.” She turned back to face him, sneering. “Awww. That’s adorable.”

  She spat the last word like a dagger.

  He sighed. “I’m going to go. We’re done here.”

  “Fine. Go.”

  Stephanie followed him to the door, on his heels like a shadow. He’d nearly reached his car when she called after him from the doorway.

  “I can change. You’ll see.”

  He paused. “I hope you mean that, but for your sake. Not mine.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Whatever, Dr. Phil.”

  He slid into his seat. “Take care of yourself, Stephanie.”

  She remained in the doorway as he pulled out of his parking spot, one hand on her hip, the middle finger of the other prominently displayed for him to see.

  Chapter Nineteen

  On Saturday morning, Charlotte had Bob drop her off at Arnie’s car dealership to buy the Volvo that had caught her eye. She’d originally asked Mariska for a lift, but Bob overheard and insisted on taking her. At the dealership he turned off his engine.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I’m going in with you.”

  “It’s okay, I can do it.”

  “No, no. I’m a master at haggling with car salesmen. It’s an art. They’re animals and you have to become an animal to beat them.” He grit his teeth and flashed his canines.

  Charlotte chuckled. “Okay...”

  “What are they asking?”

  “Six thousand. I did the research online and it looks like a pretty good deal—”

  Bob waved her away. “Nah nah. Let me handle it.”

  They got out of the car and Charlotte spotted Arnie Jr. heading towards them.

  “She’ll give you three thousand,” Bob said, as soon as he reached earshot.

  Arnie Jr. took a sip of his coffee and cocked an eyebrow. “For this Volvo? Come on. It’s worth twice that.”

  Bob grunted and crossed his arms against his chest. “Your dad would take it.”

  “No, he wouldn’t.”

  “We bowl together.”

  “That doesn’t mean you get to steal his car.”

  “Three thousand is a fair price.”

  “Can I ask what makes you say that?”

  Bob shrugged and Charlotte watched his bravado slip an inch. “It seemed like a nice round number,” he muttered.

  Charlotte laughed and put a hand on Bob’s arm. “I was thinking five-five would be fair.”

  Arnie Jr. considered the offer. “I could do five-six fifty.”

  “Plus new tires,” added Bob.

  “It already has new tires on it.”

  “Plus floor mats.”

  “We don’t sell Volvo floor mats.”

  “Plus a satellite radio subscription.”

  “They didn’t have satellite radios when they built this car.”

  “I knew you when you were knee-high to a grasshopper, you know.”

  Arnie Jr. nodded. “Uh huh.”

  Bob elbowed Charlotte in the arm. “He used to have a problem with wetting the bed.”

  Arnie Jr.’s cheeks flushed. He glanced at Charlotte and then glowered at Bob. “Come on. That’s not cool.”

  Bob shook his head. “It certainly isn’t. Your poor mother, having to change the sheets every morning.”

  “Come on.”

  Bob leaned forward. “Throw in free car washes for life.”

  Arnie Jr. sighed and turned his attention to Charlotte. “Fine. Anytime you want to bring it by for a car wash, feel free. Deal?”

  Charlotte clapped her hands together. “Merry Christmas to me. Deal.”

  Bob elbowed her again and winked, gnashing his teeth. “Told you. Animals.”

  Charlotte shook Arnie’s hand and they started towards the showroom to fill out the paperwork. Twenty-seven years old and she still had moments that made her feel like an adult for the first time. This was one of those times.

  Arnie Jr. jerked open the front door of the showroom and walked inside.

  Bob stopped, leaving Arnie Jr. holding the door, air conditioning blasting out of the showroom to cool them. He turned and stared back at the Volvo.

  “Your mother had a car just like that, you know.”

  Charlotte turned and grinned at her new car that gleamed beneath Florida’s morning sun. She’d been drawn to the vehicle and hadn’t known why. Now that Bob made the connection for her, the threads of her memories wove together, completing the picture.

  “She did?” she whispered, but she already knew it to be true. She’d been so young but she could picture the car now. Before her mother died. Before she went to live with her grandmother in Pineapple Port. Before her grandmother died, leaving her an orphan to be raised by Mariska and Bob, Darla and Frank and the rest of the community. Before any of that, she could remember getting into a white Volvo, her mother buckling her in. She remembered her mother holding out a cup with a straw. She could taste it.

  Chocolate milkshake.

  She turned to find Bob holding the door open for her. Arnie Jr. had given up on chivalry and stormed inside.

  “I remember Mom taking me to get hamburgers for dinner in a car like that.”

  He nodded. “Your grandmother had her Lincoln. Didn’t need a second car. She sold the Volvo shortly after you came to live with her.”

  Charlotte glanced back at the car. “Huh. Isn’t that funny?”

  After buying the car, Charlotte drove it directly to the home of Assistant District Attorney Jason Walsh, ready to start the first day of her assignment for Stephanie. The previous night she’d set up motion cameras outside his front and back doors, and knew he hadn’t done much other than pick up his newspaper in striped pajama pants.

  From her parking spot across the street and down the block, she could see him through his front window, reading his paper and drinking coffee. His wife walked back and forth in a t-shirt and tights. It appeared as if she were interacting with something too low for Charlotte to see. A kid or a dog. She wasn’t sure which. Stephanie hadn’t provided her with any background information.

  Just watch him. And let me know if he gets anywhere near this woman. If he does, I need to know every word they say. That’s all Stephanie had said before sending her an email with a name, photo and address in Ybor City. Now Charlotte prayed Jason wouldn’t get anywhere near the woman in Ybor City. She had no idea how she was going to listen to their conversation if he did.

  Charlotte checked her watch. It was nearly ten a.m. At that very moment, Declan was probably sitting in the demon seed’s office, comparing the fingerprint she’d g
iven him to Stephanie’s book.

  She felt bad.

  Her phone rang and she saw it was Declan calling.

  “That was fast,” she said, answering.

  “I didn’t have to stay. She gave me the book.”

  “The whole book?”

  “Yep.”

  “Wow. Aren’t you smooth. Good job. You didn’t have to sell your soul or anything, did you?”

  He chuckled. “I got that back from her years ago.”

  His voice lacked energy.

  “You sound tired.”

  Declan cleared his throat. “Sorry. She was sort of a mess. It can be exhausting dealing with her highs and lows.”

  Charlotte frowned. “I’m sorry I put you through that. I was desperate.”

  “It’s fine. I’m used to it. Out of practice, but used to it. And this time I could see the light at the end of the tunnel.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You.”

  She smiled broadly enough to imagine he could see it through the phone. “You’re okay?”

  “Of course. I’m fine.”

  “And her?”

  He sighed. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? It was that bad?”

  “No. I mean, she’ll be fine. She’s always fine. She was a little drunk.”

  “At ten a.m.?”

  “More like nine. Where are you?” Charlotte could tell he wanted to change the subject.

  “I’m sitting outside Assistant D.A. Jason Walsh’s house, as promised. I have to watch him night and day until Monday.”

  “It’s only Saturday. You can’t not sleep for two days.”

  “I assume he’ll sleep. Then I’ll catnap.”

  “But you won’t know if he leaves the house.”

  “I setup motion cameras next to his front and back doors. It will ring on my phone and wake me up if he tries to leave.”

  Declan whistled. “Look at you. You’re like a real private eye now.”

  “And deputy.”

  “Right. I almost forgot. So I guess I won’t see you for a couple days. Maybe I could swing by and hang out with you.”

  “You’ll have to look for a white Volvo 240 wagon.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I bought a car.”

  “You bought a car?”

  “It’s my Christmas present to myself.”

  “What kind?”

  “A Volvo. It’s old but it’s in really good shape.”