by Linda Style
“Sounds important,” Rico said.
“Yeah. It is.” Luke quickly explained the threatening e-mails, and that Jules’s life might be in danger.
There was a long pause on the line before Rico asked, “Can you express mail it to me?”
“That’s a thought. I can do it tomorrow morning.”
“You said two things.”
“Yeah.”
“What’s going on?” Rico sounded more awake now.
“Renata Willis. Seven years old. Abducted and murdered fifteen years ago.”
“That’s an old case. Really old.”
Before either Luke or Rico worked in the RHD. “I understand there were no viable leads and the case went cold.”
“You got a lead on it now?”
“Not exactly. I asked Jordan to pull the old file.”
“You think the e-mail is connected to the case?”
“Maybe. Keep that in mind when you’re working on it.”
Clicking off, he braced for Jules’ response. “Rico thinks he can find out where the messages came from but he needs the computer.”
She shook her head. “I need my computer. I can’t finish my work without it.”
“Would that be the worst thing in the world?”
Silence. “If you want to track down this guy, you’ll have to do without your computer for a while.”
“I have a deadline to meet.”
“What’s more important, a deadline or your life?”
“It’s just an e-mail. It doesn’t mean he really wants to hurt me and it doesn’t mean he really knows where I am. He probably thinks I’m still in San Francisco. For all we know he’s just a crank who gets his kicks scaring people.”
“But we don’t know any of that and we won’t know until we find out who this creep is. We have to assume he means what he says. So, save your stuff on a flash drive or in a drop box you can access later and we’ll get you another laptop.”
Lines formed around her mouth, the way they always did when she dug in her feet over something. She closed the lid on the laptop.
Scrubbing a hand over his chin, Luke stood, paced, then stopped in front of her. “I have a better idea. Pack your things.”
“What—”
“We’re going to L.A.”
“L.A.? But…what about your father?”
“I’ll call the doc and find out how long he’s going to be there. If we leave early in the morning, we’ll be in L.A. in a couple hours and on a plane back by evening.”
“I—I don’t know.”
“What don’t you know? You do want to know who this sicko is, don’t you?”
She nodded. “But if the police already refused to do anything, what good will going to L.A. do?”
“We’ll take the laptop to Rico. Then I can check the Willis file myself.”
“So, you go then. I’ll stay here in case anything comes up with your father.”
“I’m not leaving you here alone. Your only other options are to get another computer so we can send this one to Rico, or to quit writing the story.”
She gave him a look that could’ve wilted steel.
“That’s what I thought. So, we’ll leave first thing in the morning. You can write on the plane and won’t lose a minute of writing time.”
~~~
LUKE FULLY BELIEVED whoever was threatening her meant business. Otherwise he’d leave her here and go to L.A. alone. He’d never had any qualms about doing that. Ever.
Feeling a chill, she rubbed her arms. It wasn’t like she’d never wondered how serious the guy really was. She’d wondered more times than she wanted to admit, but like always, she talked herself down. She was overreacting because of the past. It had taken her forever to get to that place, and she wasn’t about to go back.
After losing Mikey, every noise, every look from a stranger had seemed threatening, every person she passed seemed sinister in some way, and she’d spent her days in a perpetual state of suspicion and fear.
Finally, she’d had to seek more grief counseling to help her crawl from the abyss of sorrow that almost destroyed her.
Now, no matter how much she protested against herself, no matter how logical she was about it, she couldn’t escape the dark feeling of dread hanging over her. Was the threat as real as Luke thought it was? Or was Luke making her paranoid? Making her relapse.
“You okay?”
“Yes. Fine.” Looking down, she rubbed her arms again.
“It’s okay to be scared, you know. I’m scared every day when I go out on the streets.”
She raised her head at his admission. Luke scared? “I—I didn’t think it bothered me, but tonight it feels…eerie. We’re so far away from everything.”
He reached out, lifted the laptop off the bed and set it on the night table. Then he sat next to her and slipped an arm around her. “I’ll stay here with you tonight.”
It was a bad idea, but an offer she couldn’t refuse. It wasn’t like she’d never slept with him before, and tonight, she needed to feel the physical warmth of another human being. She needed to draw on his strength. To be close to someone who cared about her.
Despite their divorce, she believed he did care, if for no other reason than their history together. The fact that they’d had a child. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.
Still holding her, he leaned against the pillow, his face nestled in her hair. She felt his chest lift when he drew in a long, deep breath, then he stroked her head. “Go to sleep now,” he whispered. “We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
MORNING CAME too soon, and after a drive to Albuquerque and the short flight to Los Angeles, they were in a rental car speeding down the freeway to Rico Santini’s house in Anaheim.
A wave of apprehension swept through Julianna. She’d last seen Rico not long before she and Luke had separated and it hadn’t been pleasant. Heat reached her cheeks just thinking about it. She’d found Luke and his friends at Bernie’s and she’d gone inside and stood there shrieking at them like a banshee, telling them that sitting around watching football wasn’t going to help find her son. She’d said some horrible things, including that they were to blame for not finding Michael. God. She’d totally lost it.
Apparently, Luke sensed her nervousness and took her hand. “It’ll be fine,” he said.
“The last time I saw Rico, I was so horrible to him…to all of you.”
“Don’t worry, guys get over things like that. They know you were emotionally stressed. I was, too.”
She inhaled. “I don’t know how you can handle what you do all the time. I’d be a wreck.”
“That’s why you’re not a cop,” he said, apparently making light to diffuse her nervousness. “Hey, come to think of it, I used to know a good remedy for stress.”
Julianna couldn’t help smiling. Whenever things got too bad, they’d wind up in bed. And he was right. It was the best stress-buster around.
But even good sex hadn’t been able to save their marriage—or mend their broken hearts.
“Here we are,” Luke said, pulling into the driveway of a small cottage that sat back from the tree-lined street.
She’d been to Rico’s home many times before and felt a twinge of nostalgia. Rico had always liked big barbecues and coming from a large Italian restaurant family, he knew how to cook and did it well. All the fun times, long gone. Her gaze wandered over the fresh cut grass, the hibiscus plants near the door. Red, she remembered. The flowers were red.
She sighed letting the familiar wash over her. She missed doing things with their friends, she realized. Missed being a couple.
“I can’t believe Rico, the quintessential playboy, is married now. It’s so…unlikely.”
“Yeah, I couldn’t believe it either. They adopted a little boy that Macy had in her charge as a ward of the court and voilà, instant family. Billy’s great, too.”
She couldn’t help but wonder if Billy reminded Luke of
Mikey…if every time he saw a child that age, the pain swept back, again and again.
Luke smiled, then reached across her lap to open the car door on her side. “Life is full of surprises.”
That it was. Julianna climbed out and hoisted the strap of her laptop case over her shoulder. “Do you think Rico can do it?”
“Rico’s brain is a computer. If anyone can do it, he can.”
“Do you think it’ll take very long?”
“No clue. But you know me and computers. Two left hands.”
Rico opened the door almost as they reached it. “Yo, buddy,” Rico said, doing one of those handshake hug things that guys do. “Hi, Julianna.” He reached over and gave her a quick hug too. “Really great to see you again. Come in.”
As they went inside, Julianna noticed the house seemed warmer, homier than before.
“Macy’s made a few decorating changes around here.”
“It looks wonderful. She has a designer’s touch.”
“Where’s Macy now?” Luke asked.
“She’s at work and Billy’s at school. I’ve got to leave shortly, too. Just had a call from the boss.”
“Do you have any idea how long this will take?” Julianna asked.
Rico shrugged. “Could take an hour or a couple days. I won’t know until I get into it.”
“She’s worried about a deadline on a story.”
“No problem. Follow me.” Rico led them down the hall to one of the bedrooms that he used as his office. Three computers were lined up across the oak desk that took up most of the room. “Here,” Rico said, picking up a laptop from one of the bookshelves. “Download what you need and use this one.” He handed her the laptop. “I never use it.”
“Oh, I couldn’t—”
“Yes, you can. Take it with you. Really.”
“Geez, Rico. What do you do with all these computers?” Luke waved a hand at the lineup. Technology wasn’t Luke’s thing. Not that he’d admit anyway. She had suspicions that he was savvier than he let on. He had to be just to use the police systems.
“One belongs to Macy.”
“So, when will you be able to work on mine?”
“Later tonight. I’ll give you a call when I get back and let you know if I need any information.”
“I’ll be at the station later to take a look at the Willis case,” Luke said.
“Where are you headed now?”
Luke avoided looking at Julianna when he answered, “My place. You can get me there or on my cell.”
~~~
WHEN IN THE CAR and on the 405 toward Venice, Julianna was as silent as a stone, the tension in the air palpable. Luke knew she might rebel at going to the home they’d shared, a place where memories were embedded in every room, in every knickknack and piece of furniture. “We have to go somewhere,” he said. “We might as well be comfortable.”
After that, he couldn’t think of anything to say that might assuage her fears. He’d had his own misgivings about staying in the house after the divorce. It had been the place where they’d shared their dreams and fantasies—and the place where they’d lost Michael.
Yet for Luke, the house was comforting. It had been their home. Where they’d lived as a family. And every day since then, he sensed Julianna and Michael’s presence there. For him, that was a good thing. She obviously didn’t feel the same. She’d been intent on leaving. Intent on putting him and their life together behind her.
“It’s apparent we’re not going to get out of L.A. until tomorrow, and this is the safest place I know. If someone is trying to find you, he’s not going to look for you at your ex-husband’s house. But…if you’re uncomfortable with going there, we can check into a hotel.”
When she looked at him, her eyes were dark and unreadable. “No, it’s okay.”
Okay. Why wasn’t he convinced? Still, there wasn’t any point in pushing the question. Take her at her word and move on. They rode in silence, and deep in thought, he jumped a little when on the way past the beach, Julianna said, “Can we stop at the pier?”
“Uh, yeah. Sure.” He made a sharp turn and pulled into the public lot. Even though it was early fall, tourists still showed up in droves, most of them to gawk at the unusual, visit the funky shops, get a quick diagnoses for medicinal weed, and be entertained by the jugglers, dancers and musicians. It took a couple circles around to find a parking spot.
For Luke, the uniqueness of Venice Beach was what made it appealing. Jules used to feel the same way, and he hoped that was why she wanted to stop. When they got out of the car, she didn’t say a word, but simply stood with her eyes closed, inhaling the salty sea air.
A cool breeze ruffled her hair, blowing it back from her face. “It’s…revitalizing,” she said, then started walking toward the sand.
Luke followed. “Do you want my jacket?”
“No, thanks. I need a jolt of fresh air.”
They walked leisurely over the hard-packed sand, then she stopped at the water’s edge and kneeled down to pick up something embedded there. “A sand dollar,” she said, then looked up at him, wistfulness in her eyes. “I—I came here a lot with Michael so he could play on the beach.”
“He loved the water.” Luke had been teaching Mikey to use a boogie board and Jules had had a fit, thinking her little boy was going to get hurt or washed away.
“On the way here I didn’t think I could do this. I thought all the reminders would make me fall apart.”
“And now?”
She turned away, but not before he saw, her eyes well with tears. “I—I don’t know. It’s…almost like I can feel him here. Like the wind is Mikey, wrapping his arms around me.”
Luke swallowed hard, put his arm around her and they slowly walked back to the car. No words were necessary. They both knew what they’d lost.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
JULIANNA’S BREATH CAUGHT, her palms were slick with sweat and a tingling went from her fingers all the way up her arm, almost as if she was having a heart just thinking about going into the house. Coming in the back way from the garage into the kitchen, her anxiety eased little by little. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Luke still had her photos, yellowed and curled as they were, pinned on the cork board.
“Can you wait here for a few minutes,” she said, her eyes catching his. “I’d like to walk through alone, if you don’t mind.”
He ticked his head in a mini-nod.
She had to do this. And she had to do it alone. Dispel the demons…and do it before they had a chance to resurface and fester within her…suck her back into heartbreak hell.
As she moved slowly from room to room, like ghosts the memories whispered from every corner. Upstairs, she stopped in front of their bedroom. Luke’s room now.
The family photo was still on the dresser, the furniture arrangement was still the same, even the lace coverlet she’d so desperately had to have was on the bed. And the horribly distorted afghan she’d made, when she first learned to knit, lay over the top of the rocker in the corner. She brought her hand to her mouth, her fragile emotions banging at the protective shell she’d built around them. Tears welled.
Luke had kept everything as it was before she left.
Except for Mikey’s room. Only that had been her doing. During one despairing rage, she’d gone on a rampage and cleared everything out of Mikey’s room, giving away her only son’s clothing and toys to the children at the shelter. But nothing could purge the heartbreak.
Afterward, realizing what she’d done, she’d made a frantic effort to get her son’s things back. But it was too late. Bone-deep regret consumed her and she’d sunk deeper into her despair.
The things she had saved were some pictures, some shells Mikey had collected on the beach, and a jar full of colorful stones worn smooth by the water. Odd stuff, she realized now. Later, every time she’d looked at his empty room she was devastated all over again. By getting rid of everything, it was as if Mikey had never existed. She wanted to take it al
l back. But she couldn’t, and her despair grew even darker.
Luke had never said a word to her about what she’d done. She guessed he hated her for it, but was battling his own demons and couldn’t be bothered dealing with her. The irony was that she’d always heard families drew together to get through the bad times, that sometimes a crisis made them stronger.
But they’d failed the test. Neither of them had been able to help the other.
“So,” Luke said when she came back into the kitchen. “You okay?”
Looking around, she avoided his questioning gaze. “I’m fine.”
He nodded. Waited for her to speak again, as if knowing she had to work this out on her own.
“The place feels more like you than before.”
“You mean it’s messier.”
She managed a tiny laugh. “Something like that.”
“Are you hungry?”
They’d left so early this morning it seemed like it should be bedtime already, but it was only early afternoon and they hadn’t had lunch and she was starving. “I’m famished.”
He peered into the fridge. “Well, I didn’t buy any groceries before I left for New Mexico, so maybe we better go out and get some fast food or something.”
“Okay. Or I can look and see what you have that I can whip up.”
He beamed in surprise, then motioned toward the cabinets. “Be my guest. But I think all you’ll find is that stuff to mix with hamburger.”
She stuck a finger in her mouth in a gagging gesture. “Maybe you’re right. But instead of going out, why don’t we order takeout?” She pulled open the drawer where they’d always kept the restaurant menus, took a couple out and started to look them over. “What’s on the agenda after we eat?” she asked, still checking the menus.
“I need to go to the station to look at the Willis file.”
She stopped reading. “You’re really going to look into it?”
“As much as I can. But no guarantees. The case went cold for a reason.”
“But it’s important. Why don’t you go there right now and grab a bite to eat along the way. I’ll find something here and that way we’ll save time and I can get some work done, too.”
