“She’ll call you back. Ask her where she’s staying. I’m going to call you later and you’re going to give me that address, Simms.”
Simms frowned.
“For her own safety, you’ll give me her address. I swear to you I would never hurt her.”
Simms fell back into his chair, resigned. “Give me your number. I’ll call you the instant I hear from her.”
“Thank you.” Kyle wrote his published cell number on a slip of memo paper. “I don’t usually answer this, so leave me a message. If you get a call from me, it won’t look like any number you’re used to.”
“Got it.”
If he couldn’t get it from Simms, he’d have to try to convince Sergeant Mayfield. But he wanted to stay clear of the locals. Now the hard part was starting. The waiting.
Chapter 31
Simms was relieved the SEAL was out of his office. He waited until he saw the soldier exit the parking lot in an old green truck with red Forest Service logos. He locked the front door.
“Stacey, I’m calling the police. Let in only people you know.”
“And the police,” she quipped.
He didn’t have time for her backhanded challenge today, but made a note to talk to her about her attitude. He went straight to his office and picked up the phone. He fumbled a card from his middle desk drawer and dialed.
“Yeah?”
“This Deputy Hilber?”
“Who’s this?” The deputy said without confirming.
“This is Carl Simms. I’m manager at the Patterson Realty office in San Diego. You asked me to call you if I heard from Kyle Lansdowne.”
“Yes. So I take it you have?”
“He was just here.”
“Where’s that exactly?”
“Here. In my office. I’m the manager at Patterson…”
“Yes, yes,” Hilber interrupted. “I got it now. Okay, what did he want?”
“He wanted to know where Christy was.”
There was silence on the other end of the line. Then Simms heard a woman’s voice in the background and the sound of what could be rustling sheets. He continued, “I’m sorry if I woke you up, sir. I get into the office early and…”
A hand muffled the phone, but Simms could hear the deputy swearing at someone, and a woman giggling in response.
Probably caught him having sex with his wife.
“No problem, Simms. I’m all ears now. So, he asked about… Ouch! God dammit. Fucking stop that.” Hilber lowered his voice and said, “Excuse me,” to Simms. “Having a little problem here on the home front, if you catch my drift.”
Simms got quiet. Maybe he shouldn’t have called. He’d never spoken to his wife like that. Ever.
“Officer Hilber, Lansdowne doesn’t know where Christy is. Neither do I, but I can find out, and he wants me to. Didn’t want to call from his own phone. Used mine here at the office. That sound fishy to you?”
“Absolutely. Do you have the number he called?”
Simms pushed down on the silver button at the middle of the headset. A phone number displayed in red digital numbers. He recognized it as Christy’s cell. He gave it to the deputy.
“Good. This helps. When you find out her location, let us know first, okay? We need to give her some protection before he gets to her. It also would be a great way to catch him.”
“You think he would harm her?”
“Look Simms, he’s already killed four. He has the taste of blood in his mouth. He’ll do it again.”
“But I think he cares about this woman.”
“I’d say more like he’s obsessed. And maybe he’s trying to cover his tracks. God only knows what info she has on him. Look, Simms, I don’t think I have to tell you that these men are trained dogs. They are trained not to care about anything or anyone in order to do their jobs. But this isn’t fucking Afghanistan.”
It was partially true, Simms thought. But he’d never seen a SEAL member hurt a civilian. There were some stories about it, though, especially among the haters in the San Diego community. There were always a few of those.
“Anything else?” Hilber sounded impatient.
“No, sir. Just trying to be a good citizen,” Simms answered. “What do I tell him when he calls?”
“Don’t give the address to him when you get it. Don’t call him back. Just call me.”
“Oh. What happens if he comes back over here?”
“Call the locals. Geez, Simms, use your fuckin’ head. Look, I gotta go. You got more questions than a schoolgirl on her first date.”
“Just trying to cooperate fully, as you asked.”
“Well, we thank you for that. Talk to you soon, then—oh, say, did you happen to notice what car he was driving?”
“Truck. Green truck with a red official logo on the door. Never seen it before today.”
Simms glanced over contracts he was supposed to review this morning. He couldn’t concentrate and had to read over everything twice. He’d wasted five minutes. He was seeing letters and numbers, but none of it was making any sense. Like this situation with Christy.
The secretary appeared at his doorway.
“There’s a crowd outside the front door. They’re wondering if we’re going out of business.”
“I told you to let in people you knew. Christ, I don’t want to lock out my own agents.”
Simms was irritated. He needed this little wrinkle like he needed the mumps. He made a mental note to fire Stacey at his first opportunity. After all this crap with Christy was over.
Stacey was still looking down at her shoes.
“Well, go ahead and let them in, or is there something else?”
“I want a word with you later, Mr. Simms.”
Fine. Leave me alone. He grinned. “I’d be happy to speak with you after I return a few phone calls and review these contracts.” He pointed to a stack about a foot high, all files he was supposed to review and sign off on.
He heard her heels clickity-clack down the tiled hallway and then heard the turn of the lock on the Patterson Realty front door.
Simms poured himself into the contracts again.
Christy was such a levelheaded lady, he thought. Not one to pick some loser rogue military guy. She seemed to be able to slice through people nicely without them knowing they’d been outmatched. Wayne Somerville had discovered that. Yet, she did it in such a way that Wayne was only too willing to come to her beck and call the instant she requested it. There was talent there, strength of personality and something else sorely lacking in his profession: she cared about people.
The phone rang and it startled him.
“Mr. Simms, this is Christy. You called me this morning when I was in the shower. Your message didn’t record.”
Of course she would assume it was an error, not a trap. Her basic faith in human nature was key to who she was.
“Christy, I gotta have your address, since you’re not sure how long you’ll be gone. I could use the address of the shop, if you want.” Simms felt like a complete jerk.
“No. No, I don’t want Madame M to get mixed up in this, and somehow that will happen if I start giving her address out. I’m staying at 484 Stanyan Street. I think the zip is 94117.”
“Great. Thanks. I’ll keep it in my file here in case I need it. So how long do you think you’ll be, or do you know yet?” He asked this for his own sake of mind.
“Haven’t talked to Madame M this morning. She’s supposed to pick me up for breakfast.”
“Oh, great. So you are okay?”
“Yes.” She paused. Would she feel obligated to further explain? Something else was there, in the tone of her voice, as she continued, “I think the change of pace will be good for me right now.”
“Much as I wish you were back here, I have to agree with you,” Simms said. “You need any help on any of your work?”
“No. I gave Wayne my two buyer leads, but would you check on him? I’m thinking he won’t be the exact fit for those clients. He�
�s so different than I am, you know.”
Tell me about it.
“Christy, why didn’t you call me? I could have helped.”
“Fact is, those two guys from the Sheriff’s Department, well one from the sheriff’s office and one Navy guy, surprised me. Just showed up on their own without announcing themselves. I just felt a little uncomfortable with them, being alone.”
“So you called Wayne? Not me?”
Christy gave a nervous laugh. “He called me.” Her voice faded on the other end of the line, then returned. “I asked Wayne to come over, sort of for protection. I knew he’d come right away. And I know how busy you are…”
“No problem. Just call me instead, okay?”
“Thank you. It’s nice to know I have people around me I can trust.”
Simms had a sharp pain in his gut. Felt like a hot poker of regret. And shame. He didn’t want to tell her about Kyle, but felt he should.
“Christy, I haven’t been entirely honest with you. Your Navy guy made that call.”
“What?”
“He came by this morning, telling me you were in danger.”
“And?”
“He demanded to know where you were.”
Cold silence.
“Mr. Simms, I have to go. But please, please do not tell him where I’m staying.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t. You can count on that.”
“Don’t even tell him I’m in San Francisco, or he’d figure it out.”
“Right.”
“Thanks for telling me. Keep the address private. Tell no one.”
“I won’t,” he lied.
“Thanks for looking out for me. I appreciate it.” She hung up.
Simms tapped the pad that had her address written on it. He had a choice to make and neither option facing him was good. One got him more involved and perhaps put Christy in danger. The other allowed someone he clearly didn’t trust to have information he wasn’t sure should be given out. He’d always believed in law enforcement. Maybe this sheriff was just a quirky guy with some unusual habits. Maybe that was what he was picking up from the man.
But one thing was for sure. He didn’t want to mess with the Sheriff’s Department. And the Navy should be taking care of their own. He dialed Warren Hilber.
“Got the address.” He gave it to Hilber and got a curt thank you. Before the phone went dead, Simms knew he’d made a big mistake.
Chapter 32
Christy dressed and waited. She’d decided to wear her new black stretch pants and a new pair of patent leather, four-inch spiked heels. When she used to work at the little shop, walking all day on tiptoes had made her top heavy and she had to press out her chest to keep her balance. By the end of the day her calves would ache, but she loved the way they felt.
She recalled what Madame M had said when she first told her of the shoes requirement. “I like the high heels because it simulates a woman’s legs in orgasm. It brings sexual tension, and sexual tension is good for lingerie sales.”
At first, it made Christy blush. But she eventually got comfortable with the look and feel of the shoes.
Madame was right about the impact it had on shop sales. The male customers didn’t seem to mind when she accidentally bumped her chest against them.
To complete today’s outfit, she wore a red stretch oversized top that showed off her soft ample bosom and matched the color of her flaming red lipstick.
She observed Tom’s kitchen door was open, revealing a shiny inner screen door.
Inviting. Welcoming her to come into his house. She hadn’t taken him up on his offer of last night.
Her cell phone chirped.
“Hello?”
“Cheríe, are you up? Refreshed?”
“Yes ma’am. Been up for awhile now.”
Madame giggled. “I am so glad you are in town. You have spent some quality time with Mr. Bergeron?”
“Yes. He cooked me dinner last night. I was tired and turned in early afterward.”
Madame giggled again.
“Alone. I went to bed alone.” Christy didn’t want to offend her former boss, but she needed to make it clear where she stood. “You didn’t tell me about his divorce.”
“Oui. I thought he should be the one to tell you, if he wished. And I see he has.”
“Yes.”
“C’est bien. I will be over in about twenty minutes. Tom told me he is cooking breakfast for us, if that is all right with you. I am running a little late, and a restaurant trip would make us even later.”
“Fine.” But Christy couldn’t deny the knot in her stomach.
She walked across the brick patio that gurgled with water sounds from two fountains. Bright multi-colored lilies stood at attention along the path and gave off a heady aroma. She stopped and inhaled the glorious scent, filling her head with toxic thoughts of Kyle and how much she missed his hard flesh next to hers. How much she missed his kisses. How much she missed the way he used her body to bring them both such pleasure.
She opened the screen door and stepped into a kitchen filled with cooking smells and the light lacing of jazz in the background. Tom was in faded blue jeans with another blue shirt, buttoned low. But he had a flowered apron on, and that made her chuckle. He turned and flashed her a smile right out of GQ, holding a green spatula in his right hand.
“Wow. You are a vision, Christy. I’m…I’m speechless.” He took a long, lingering look down the entire length of her body and back up, his eyes hungry. She hadn’t dressed for him, but for Madame M’s customers. But she liked it that he found her attractive. She couldn’t help it. He wasn’t bad to look at either.
She smiled, which pleased him.
“Thanks for cooking breakfast for us. Madame M just called. She’s on her way now.”
“Yes, I know. She called me too.” He remained fixed in place, the utensil held like the Statue of Liberty’s torch.
Christy cocked her head. “You guys are conspiring. I can tell.”
He set down his spatula and stood in front of her. She could feel his body’s heat. “It’s a deadly game. I needed her help.”
“You?” she asked, stepping back to a cool distance.
He looked at his feet and slid his palms into his front pockets, then shrugged his shoulders. “I had hoped you would come see me last night.” He raised his blue eyes to hers. They watered. He licked his lips and focused on hers. She wished now she was wearing pink, not red.
“Tom.” Christy stopped. Her words were going to come out harsh, and that wasn’t what she wanted. “Look, I thought I made myself perfectly clear last night. I’m not interested in a relationship right now.”
“But we already have one.”
She looked down.
I’ve used this line. Places reversed.
She looked back up at him and studied his kind face. She could have loved him, at another time and place. But not now. Not after meeting Kyle.
“Yes, and I’d very much like to keep that friendship, if that is possible. I’m grateful for your generosity, Tom, for letting me stay here. But let’s not get carried away.”
It was hard to look at him. His tanned and lean body came close again. He held her face in his hands as he bent down. She was afraid he would kiss her, and she knew she would break away. Could he feel how her spine went stiff?
“I’m sorry, Tom.” She placed her hands over his. She tried to reflect back to him the kindness she saw in his eyes. Without the need.
He pulled her body to his chest and embraced her. “Not to worry, Christy. Just know that I am here.” He kissed the top of her head, and whispered, “But just give me a chance to make you happy.”
She nodded to his chest. But these were not the arms she wanted to be enveloped in.
Will I ever be able to forget him?
They dropped their arms and the awkward silence forced them both to smile. Something was smoking on the stove. He ran to the smoking pan of bacon, which was spattering all over the stovetop. H
e reached up and turned up the six-foot stainless steel commercial hood fan.
“I know this isn’t good for you. But I love bacon for breakfast sometimes,” he said.
“Yes, thank you. I’m somewhat of an expert on things that are bad for me.”
With the smoke under control, Tom fired up his espresso maker, busying himself with making her a cappuccino. He delivered the little cup and saucer filled with foamed half-and-half and garnished with a little nutmeg—just the way she liked it. And he smiled as she took it.
“Thank you. This is perfect.”
“I am a student of what a beautiful woman desires.” His voice was low and raspy.
Where had he learned she loved cappuccinos? She slipped by him and planted herself at the eating bar. The espresso drink was indeed as perfect as it looked. He’d even sculpted a heart into the creamy foam on top.
Why couldn’t this be Kyle in the kitchen? Why couldn’t we be here, thinking about what we could do today? We could go to Chinatown. Walk along the piers. Eat oysters and warmed olives. Sip wine and watch the Marin Ferry go and come.
Tom turned and she could feel his eyes on her, though her gaze had traveled out the windows toward the bay watching all the little sailboats already out on the dark blue water.
“It’s going to be a lovely day. No fog,” she said as she sighed.
“I ordered it special,” he answered. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to make you happy.”
Christy sipped her cappuccino. “You don’t make it easy, Tom.”
“Nor do you. I look at you, and, well…I think to myself…”
“Are you sure it isn’t just loneliness, Tom?”
“Does it matter?”
Oh, yes. It matters.
Christy couldn’t answer him. She now knew it was not a good idea to stay here. Tom was not picking up the message like she’d hoped. She stood and walked with her cappuccino to peer out the front living room windows. She heard the slam of a car door down below. Madame M’s driver in the black Lincoln was rounding the rear. He stopped, got out, and then opened up the passenger door. Christy noted how frail the older woman was as she extricated herself from the rear seat, refusing assistance from the driver.
SEAL Firsts Page 25
