Should have asked him for his card.
Would’ve made things a whole lot easier.
Well, I didn’t, did I?
Good thing, too.
I can see it now…
Phone up this guy you hardly know, tell him the detective from Mill Valley PD stayed with Mom last night. Remember, the one I told you about? Yeah, that one.
And he’d say, “Okay? So what business is this of mine? Moms have a right to private lives, too, y’know.”
Deana replaced the phone book in its alcove.
Wandering aimlessly into the living room, she stared through the glass wall at the panorama below.
The day spread out before her like an empty, rainwashed sky.
What shall I do?
Read a book?
What book?
How about I ring Eureka and order, say, Get Shorty by Elmore Leonard.
The mad adventures of small-time Miami loan shark Chili Palmer, Miss…er, sorry, I didn’t catch your name?
Yes. That’s the one. Please express it over to me.
Oh, and thanks for your trouble, Mr. Hastings.
Or maybe she should watch daytime TV?
Yawn.
A video?
There’s always Reservoir Dogs.
She’d seen it before. Twice.
Good film, but boring old diamond heists and Harvey Keitel weren’t exactly what she was looking for right now.
What about…
She rushed to the hallway. Grabbed the phone book and looked up “Hastings.”
Dummy!
Warren was new to Del Mar a couple of days ago, so his name wouldn’t be listed yet.
Three blocks away. That would probably make it in the three hundred and sixties…
And under the name of the last occupant.
She’d never work it out that way.
Shit.
Maybe she had enough to occupy her mind, thinking about Mace calling Mom, telling her I was out last night…
Leigh, darling. Did you know your daughter was out there on Del Mar, seeing some guy?
He’d just love that…
As she went to her bedroom, Deana pictured Warren’s kitchen. Cozy. Friendly. Smelling of pot roast…
And Sabre, harboring dark thoughts beneath the kitchen sink.
Some dog, that.
Dangerous.
At least he rescued my cap for me.
Cap.
She’d tossed it, and her black sweats, into the hamper. They sure could do with a wash, after all that excitement.
Probably stink like hell.
“That’s what I’ll do while Mom’s out,” she decided. “Wash my black things. Get them dried and put away before she sees them.”
Deana opened the hamper. Dragged out her sweats.
Her knitted cap fell to the floor.
So did Warren’s card.
Showing his business address and a scribbled phone number on the reverse.
His home number!
“Eureka!”
Must have put it inside her cap before he handed it to her. When he scrabbled about in the cupboard under the kitchen sink.
Smart guy.
Now what?
Call the number, dummy. Even if he’s not home, his sister will be…
A squirm of excitement stirred between her legs.
Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a boring day after all.
Do it, Deana. Go for it.
She sat on the bed, dialing out the number on her extension line.
Brrinngg…Brrinngg.
“Yeah. The Hastings residence…”
The woman’s voice was deep, brisk. Businesslike.
For someone who didn’t get home till five-thirty a.m., this sure was some together lady…
“Er…May I speak with Warren, please?”
“Who’s asking.” A statement. Not a question.
“A friend. Just say, the midnight runner. He’ll know who it is.”
At the other end, Sheena gasped. A shiver played up and down her spine.
It was back.
Her premonition.
Deana heard the phone slap down onto a hard surface.
Silence. Then, in the background:
“Hey, bro. Gal here says she’s the midnight runner.”
Deana blushed.
My God.
Sounds like I’m some kind of weirdo.
Giving out code names over the phone.
Silence.
More conversation in the background. Garbled now. Farther away.
Then Warren’s voice, slightly breathless.
“Hi. You just caught me…To what do I owe the pleasure? So soon.”
Deana heard the smile behind his words.
She felt foolish, not quite knowing why she’d called.
Of course she knew.
She’d called for the hell of it, hadn’t she?
No, not that.
What she’d really called Warren for was to talk about Mace.
Come to think of it, what could she say about Mace without being a traitor to Mom?
“Hello? Are you there?”
“Sure…Hi, Warren,” she said weakly. “Sorry to bother you. Tell me I’m a nuisance.”
“No, I won’t. What is it, my midnight lady? Hey. What’s your name, anyway? Can’t keep coming over all Shakespearean. It’s enough to take the edge off any budding friendship.”
“Deana. Deana West.”
“Deana. Mmm. Nice name. So…Deana. How can I help?”
He sounded calm, sensible. Understanding.
She snuffled, feeling hot tears well up.
“Why don’t I come over there? Cheer you up a little?”
“That’d be great, Warren, if you could. What about Eureka? Shouldn’t you be there by now?”
“There’s nothing spoiling back at the store. A quick call and my trusty assistant will open up. She has a key.”
She?
Deana suddenly felt too tired, too exhausted to talk or even think anymore. The events of the last few days, never mind Mace being in the house last night, were just about all she could handle at the moment.
“I’d like that, Warren,” she said quietly.
“See you in five minutes.”
“Oh, Warren?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t bring Sabre, will you?”
She pictured him smiling at her.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
THIRTY-ONE
“So Nelson’s dead.”
Leigh gripped the phone, feeling startled yet vastly relieved. She heard her voice shaking.
What Mace had to say was good, yet bad, news. He chose his words carefully.
“We have a body, Leigh. But it hasn’t been officially identified yet. Nelson have any family?”
“None that I know of. Parents died in a fire when Nelson was ten or so, I believe. He never spoke of brothers or sisters. Something of a loner, I gathered.”
“We need someone to identify him, Leigh. Feel up to it?”
Oh my God, she thought. I’m not sure…I need time to think about this.
Avoiding his question, she asked, “Where’d you find him, Mace?”
“Buncha kids spotted something out on the Headlands. Washed up on the beach. Thought it was a mess of old rags at first. Turns out it was a body. Been in the water five, six days by our reckoning.”
Five or six days. What’s left to identify?
“Okay,” Leigh gave a deep sigh. The last person she wanted to see was Nelson. Especially a dead Nelson. “If it has to be done, I’ll do it.”
“ ’Preciate it if you would, Leigh. But I warn you. He’s not a pretty sight.”
I bet.
“Pick you up in, oh, twenty minutes?”
“Sure.”
Stepping out into the hallway, Leigh went through to Deana’s room. She lay in bed, awake. Leigh went over and sat on the bed. Stroking Deana’s hair, she said, “Nelson’s gone, honey. He w
on’t bother us anymore.”
“He’s dead?”
“That’s right. They found him washed up on a beach over on the Headlands. Must’ve jumped off the Bridge.”
“My God.”
“I have to go identify him, honey. Mace’s due to pick me up shortly. You be okay?”
“Sure. I don’t envy you, Mom. Identifying a corpse. Especially one that’s been in the water so long.”
“Somebody’s got to do it, hon. No one else around who knows him…Staff back at the Bayview, maybe; but when all’s said and done, as his employer, it’s probably down to me.”
“Sure. Okay. Oh, Mom…”
“Yes?”
“In an awful kinda way, everything’s turned out for the best, hasn’t it?”
“Sure it has, honey. Thank God it’s all over now.”
THIRTY-TWO
Leigh looked at the lights sweeping down to the Bay, twinkling like stars in the darkness.
She smiled and said softly, “What a wonderful view. Know something, Mace? I’m one lucky gal.”
Mace grinned. “Sure you are, Leigh. The luckiest. Fabulous house. Great restaurant. Looks. Style. Smart kid—and me.”
Facing her in the tub, he traced swirls through the bubbles on her left breast. Fascinated, he watched her nipple emerge as he teased the foam with his forefinger.
His other hand caressed her thigh.
She lifted her head and took a deep breath. The warm night air was balmy on her wet skin.
She met his eyes and smiled.
Bathing together in the hot tub had been an idea she’d played around with all day.
Well, at least from lunchtime.
After identifying Nelson this morning, hot tubs, not to mention fun and games with Mace, had been a million miles from her mind.
Later, she’d reneged on that.
Why not chill out in the redwood tub?
With Mace…
Could help to clear my mind of Nelson.
The remains of Nelson, she corrected herself.
On the way over to the morgue, Mace told her to think objectively. “It’s a corpse we got here,” he’d said. “Not a human being. All you gotta do is identify some itty-bitty thing—a signet ring, clothing, anything on the body you recognize as belonging to Nelson.”
One look at the gray, sodden, eaten face with holes for eyes, the chewed, ragged hands, and she’d gagged, found herself folding to her knees. Mace caught her and held her tight. She leaned into him gratefully.
As she fought back vomit burning her throat, her gaze returned to the sheet-covered body. The chewed stringy arms lay outside the sheet.
She saw a gold ring—Nelson always wore one on the forefinger of his right hand.
Except now it clung perilously to a flimsy gray stump that used to be the forefinger of the corpse’s right hand. Dumbly, she nodded. As far as she could see, this was Nelson, all right.
Mace took her home and poured out a brandy. He stood by while she drank it down.
Surprisingly, Leigh wasn’t feeling as wrecked as she’d expected. At least seeing Nelson’s remains meant she and Deana could put him, and his sick little games, behind them now. Reluctant to leave her alone, Mace asked, “Sure you’re gonna be okay?”
“Yeah. No worries,” she answered with a brave smile. Seeing his concern, she added, “Really, Mace. I’ll be okay.”
“You make sure you rest, now. I’ll drop by later. Check you out.”
As good as his word, Mace arrived after dinner—complete with Dom Perignon champagne.
Deana pouted when she saw him, and stomped off to her room.
Shit.
Screw Mace.
It would have been nice to spend just one evening alone with Mom!
She switched on her TV, channel-hopped for a while, then decided on a rerun of Friday the 13th.
She’d seen it before.
But tonight, especially tonight, Friday the 13th suited her mood precisely.
THIRTY-THREE
Leigh planned the hot tub, intending it to be a nice, relaxing thing for them both to do. And if they moved on to other things—then so be it.
She figured either way would be great.
But the end result wasn’t working out quite as she’d planned. For one thing, Mace still wore his white T-shirt. And his undershorts.
She reminded herself that it was she who’d pulled him into the tub. Fully clothed. And strangely, it seemed like Mace was in no rush to remove them.
Except his jeans. He’d tugged at them, under water, struggled around, then tossed them onto the decking.
She grinned.
Good thing he’d left his leather jacket and gun holster in the living room.
She turned up the bubbles.
Mace was ready to play.
But, suddenly, she wasn’t.
What is it with me?
Why don’t I want to join in the fun?
Admit it, Leigh. You can’t get Nelson out of your mind.
Okay. He’s gone. But she still couldn’t shake off the feeling that she was partly responsible for his death.
She shuddered.
It had been so horrible, identifying his body this morning…
Thank God that was all over now.
Catching Leigh’s faraway look, Mace frowned. Christ, he thought impatiently, is she still thinking about Nelson?
Or was something else playing on her mind?
Right now, Mace had something on his mind.
And it sure wasn’t Nelson.
“Leigh. You know how I feel about you…”
“Don’t spoil it, Mace. Let’s just enjoy ourselves for now. Save the serious stuff for later, huh? It’s been an emotional time all around, and I think we’re both feeling the pressure. Let’s just relax…”
She slid down into the bubbles till only her head and the tops of her shoulders were visible. She felt Mace’s thighs moving in the water, touching hers.
Steam rose and puffed around them. She fought to stay awake, but her eyelids were drooping. As the bubbles massaged her body, her limbs began to feel heavy.
Her eyes closed all the way.
Mace slipped down, too. Tangling his legs with hers. Under the water, his hand reached out…
She jerked, went taut, pressing her legs together. Waves swelled up over her chin. She swallowed a couple of mouthfuls, and for a moment her face was submerged.
She swooshed to the surface, shaking her head, running fingers through her wet hair. As she struggled around on the seat, her pale skin gleamed in the darkness.
“Mace,” she snapped. “Quit foolin’ around!”
“Ssshhh!” Mace put a finger to his lips. “You’ll wake Deana. Do that, and she might want to join us!”
“MACE!”
Still feeling on edge, Leigh rose from the tub. The turbulent water swished and swirled around her. The cool air chilled her body. She shivered and folded her arms tight across her breasts.
Mace leaned back, admiring her slick form, glowing in the darkness above him. He whistled softly. She looked like da Vinci’s Venus rising from the foam.
“Mmmm. Ms. West. D’you know you have the most desirable body? Stay as you are…I’ll go get my camera.”
She gave an abrupt laugh and Mace stood up, water sluicing his body. He stepped out of the tub.
“Hurry,” she said tersely. She felt impatient, but managed to smile and shudder with cold at the same time.
“Can’t wait, huh?”
He held out his arms. She climbed out of the tub, hesitated a moment, then snuggled into them. Clinging together, they shivered a little in the night air.
Murmuring into her smooth wet hair, he said, “Forget the shots, baby. They can wait. Let’s go get us a drink.”
Pressing into his body, she felt his erection growing, pushing, probing her pubic hair. She leaned up toward him, her open mouth closing on his.
Slipping her hand inside his wet shorts, she found his shaft and curled he
r fingers around it. Sliding her hand up and down, she felt him growing stronger all the time. Her mood changed. The yearning ache returned.
Taking his hard-on with both hands, she pulled it to her, jabbing it against her opening.
Gasping with longing, she tightened her legs around him, her rim throbbing painfully.
“I want you in me, Mace. In me, now. For godsake, Mace…”
“No,” he said, holding her hair, pulling her head back and up to meet his face. “No, my angel. Down here first.”
Drawing back, she let go of his erection.
Her heart sank.
Smiling, he lowered his gaze, looking at his shaft, pushing her down till she was on her knees before him. “Some head first, honey,” he said huskily. “Just to get things moving.”
Disappointment sliced through her like a knife.
She wanted him.
In her.
Not this way.
She wanted him to ram deep—like he’d done last night.
She grabbed at him, disappointed, impatient. Holding his shaft with both hands. Feeling it jerk in her grasp.
God, she was desperate.
She needed him.
But if this is what it takes, she thought, then so be it…
She took him in her mouth, sucking, swirling her tongue around his bulk, feeling the ridges, the tight silky skin.
Then gagging as he thrust himself deeper and deeper into her, holding her head hard against him.
She broke away, choking, gasping, looking up at him, her eyes bright, wide with shock.
“Mace,” she whispered thickly. “That was too much. I nearly choked on you, there.”
“You loved it, Leigh. You know you loved it.”
“No, Mace. It was too much. Just hold me, will you…” She broke off, her lips trembling, hot tears falling down her cheeks. His bittersweet taste strong in her mouth.
She’d ached for him, wanted him inside her. She’d do almost anything, but, Christ, that…that hadn’t been the most sensitive way of making love tonight.
She choked back a sob. How could he treat her like this? After all she’d been through today…
Shivering, she struggled to her feet, brought up her arms, wrapped them tight around her body. She swayed slightly, still hugging herself.
God. The disappointment. The tension.
It was all too much.
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