by Lee Taylor
"He's your father. Don't you care?" Cliff jiggles my shoulder.
"Don't touch me." I cross my arms and stare out the window. "He killed Zach's mom and took on that phony name. He should face justice for what he did."
"You're a traitor to your family." He speaks as if through gritted teeth. "What kind of Filipina are you?"
"I'm Mrs. Spencer now." I twirl the ring on my finger. "Zach is all the family I need."
"No way! Did he compromise you? Rape you?" Cliff shouts.
"Shhh. . . Of course he didn't." I'm afraid he's going to get Zach in more trouble.
The two officers turn around and stare at us through the grill.
"Is there a problem?" the policewoman asks.
"Yes, leave this man at the roadside." I glare at Cliff. "He's harassing me."
"We'll be at the station soon," the driver says, clearly not about to stop and drop off Cliff.
My lower lip trembles, but I refuse to give Cliff the satisfaction of seeing me worried. There has to be an explanation. Zach's father had better be there to set the record straight.
***
It's afternoon, and other than my interview with the police in which I tried to convince them of Zach's innocence, I haven't been able to talk to anyone. They leave me in the waiting room in my sandy jeans and the oversized windbreaker. I ask to make a phone call, but international numbers are not allowed. Finally, I call the US Embassy, but their only advice is to get on an airplane and go home. They ask me if I've lost my passport or wallet but the local police had retrieved my purse from Dex's jeep, so they were satisfied I needed no assistance.
The policewoman stops in front of me. "Here's your purse. Your mobile's still charging in my office, so I'll get that for you before I leave. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"Thanks. I'd like to see Zach. Is he okay?"
"He's been cleared by medical." She looks me up and down, then gestures. "Come with me. I can lend you some clothes. I have my gym bag here."
I take my purse and follow her down a busy corridor. She pushes through a swinging door, and we enter a locker room. "Here you go: sweatpants, a tank top and a warm-up jacket."
"I appreciate it." I eye the stalls. "Think I can take a shower?"
"Sure, help yourself. Here's some soap and shampoo. We'll get you prettified before I take you to the men's prison."
"I'll get to see Zach? Oh, thank you!"
She winks. "You've had a rough couple of days. I figure it's the least I can do. But I can't talk about the case officially, you understand."
"The whole situation is too strange. I can't believe his father would let him hang."
She makes a clucking sound. "You'd be surprised. I've seen everything. Go ahead and shower. I have to stay here to escort you, so don't mind me."
I peel off my salt-crusted clothes and throw them in the trash. "This is embarrassing. I don't even have underwear."
She smiles. "Zach doesn't have to know unless you tell him."
The shower is refreshing. It takes three shampoo rinses before my hair stops feeling grimy and sandy. I dry myself and don the sweatpants and tank top and cover my braless torso with the warm-up jacket. Thankfully the policewoman's sweatpants are capris and short enough for me. When I take out my wallet to give her some cash, she waves me off.
She drives me to the men's prison and escorts me through the barbed wired gate. Through the fence, wild-eyed men hoot and whistle at me. Their biceps bulge with fierce tattoos, and they spit and kick the dirt like wild beasts. There's no way they should keep Zach here, especially when he can't fight. I keep close to the policewoman and follow her.
The heavy metal doors close behind us with an air of finality, and a curl of dread rises in my lower abdomen. The only time I've been to a jail cell was on a fifth-grade field trip to the local police station. Back then we thought it was funny when the officer brought us in and slammed the heavy gate, pretending to throw away the key.
The policewoman takes my purse and jacket before letting me into the visiting room. Zach is sitting on a bench, wearing an orange jumpsuit. The lower pant on his left leg is clipped. A reinforced Plexiglas window separates us, but there's a circular pin-point perforated metal grate where our voices can travel through without using the phone receivers seen on TV.
"Fifteen minutes," she says and retires, leaving Zach and me alone.
We stare at each other for several seconds, speechless. I swallow a series of lumps. How had our rescue come to this? My palm flattens against the glass and Zach raises his hand to mirror mine.
"Hey, how are you doing?" His smile is pained.
"Worried about you. When are they going to let you out?"
"I spoke to my lawyer. He says things should be cleared up soon. Vic and Tom lied about me. Remember the prepaid cell phone you left in my bag?"
"Yes." I nod, confused. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"The police claim it was used to contact Vic and Tom. They subpoenaed the messages and are combing through it."
"It's obvious your father got ahold of the phone." I tap the glass. "They'll figure it out, won't they?"
"I guess. There's also money transfers from an account I'd forgotten about."
"Again, your father could have done that. Where is he? Has he come forward?"
"My lawyer says he went to America."
"What? When?" I stand and knock my forehead against the plastic.
"Yesterday, as soon as your father was detained. He might still be in the air, which is why I haven't gotten a call back." He hangs his head and shrugs. "I'm charged with conspiracy to extort Mr. Ping's winery, kidnapping, and aggravated assault."
"This is horrible. I don't see how they can pin this on you."
"My lawyer's going to go after them for wrongful arrest."
"How can I help you? Let me speak with your lawyer."
He presses his nose against the glass. "Tomorrow. You're tired. Aunt Addy's coming to take you to home with her."
"But, she hates me. I heard her talking about me and my father."
"That was before I told her I married you in secret."
"You told her?" My jaw drops, and I suck in a sliver of saliva. "How did she respond?"
"Shocked, but thrilled. She's a real romantic. You'll be safe with her." His smile beams at the thought of a woman he clearly thinks of as his mother.
My stomach gurgles and I'm not so sure I should be imposing on her hospitality. I must have a confused look on my face, because Zach studies me, his lips pressed in a thin line.
"You want to go home, don't you?" he says.
"I'm worried about my mom. I can't imagine the shock she's going through with the news of my dad and the fact that I was missing."
"Then go." Concern creases his forehead. "Sounds like they need you."
I'm amazed at how in tune he is with me. "I don't want to leave you. I have to help you get out of this place."
"It's okay. My lawyer can take your statement by phone." Zach looks like he wants to hug me. "We have the rest of our lives together. You need to be with them right now."
"I feel so torn. Are they treating you okay?"
"Go, Vera. When I get out, I'll come to you. Promise."
I show him the diamond and give him an air kiss. "I know you will. I love you."
"Same here." He's blinking hard as he makes a kissing motion. "Whatever happens, I'll always love you. Believe me, baby."
"I do." Our fingertips meet across the glass.
He attacks me with his charming grin. "Sing me a love song."
Positioning my mouth close to the perforated metal, I gaze into Zach's soul-stirring eyes and sing "Paalam Na," a sad and mournful goodbye song.
My voice quavers. Even though Zach stares at me adoringly, I'm terrified.
Love may not be enough.
Chapter 28
Aunt Addy meets me in the police station lobby. She's not alone. A tall, striking blonde who could only be Krista holds on
to her arm and supports her when she stands to greet me. I back away from Addy's proffered hug and shake her pudgy hand.
"Thank you for coming." I focus on her blue-grey eyes.
"I'm so sorry, darling," she says. "Don't worry. Krista has the bail money. Oh, silly me, I should introduce you two. Krista, this is Vera, Zach's friend from America. Vera, Krista Bain, wildlife biologist." Addy's lips twitch as her glance darts back and forth between us. I notice she introduced me as Zach's friend, nothing more.
I extend my hand. "Nice to meet you."
Krista grips me with a firm shake, but her smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Sorry circumstances, eh?"
Her accent is thicker than Zach's, and she's wearing a grey business suit. Her ring sparkles in front of my face when she reaches over to guide Addy to the receptionist. The rock must be at least four carats. Does she think Zach's still marrying her?
My stomach is queasy from the cup of coffee and muffin the policewoman treated me to earlier. I shift on both legs, unsure of whether to go or stay, when the policewoman returns, trailed by Cliff. Not what I need right now.
"Here's your mobile charged," she says, handing it to me. "Mr. Morelli says he'll take you to your father's home."
"Come on, let's go," Cliff says.
"No, not yet. They're bailing Zach out." My gaze shifts to Krista and Aunt Addy talking to an officer.
"No way!" Cliff marches toward the women. "Zach Spencer is a danger to society. His thugs put two upstanding young men in the hospital and kidnapped my girlfriend."
Oh, this is too much. I yank Cliff's arm. "I'm not your girlfriend. And Zach didn't do any of this. Someone framed him, maybe his own father."
Aunt Addy fans her big frame, and Krista immediately props her up. The officer clears his throat and says, "Bail will be determined by a court hearing Monday morning. Until then, Mr. Spencer will remain in custody."
Krista squares up to the officer. "I demand you release my fiance, or be charged with wrongful arrest. Mr. Spencer was with me the night before the kidnapping."
She narrows her eyes at me as if challenging me to respond. I refuse to take her bait and wonder if she knows about the redhead.
"No, he wasn't," Cliff interjects. "He was on the way to Mornington Peninsula. We tracked his mobile."
"Wait." I raise my hand and try to step between them. "The kidnappers must have taken Zach's mobile to frame him."
"Then why was Zach seen by several witnesses in front his father's boat?" Cliff curls his lip at me.
"They're lying," Krista says. "Zach was in my bed all night."
She seems proud of her claim, making sure to parade her ring in the air. Next to me, Aunt Addy exhales a large quantity of air and folds to the floor like deflated dough. Both officers jump to her aid.
I need to figure out what to do, so while Krista and Cliff screech and flap like battling cockatoos, I exit the station door and walk down the block.
A sandwich shop beckons from the corner. I duck in and order a meal. Zach told me to believe him, no matter what. He couldn't have asked me to marry him if he was still planning on marrying Krista.
But why is she still wearing his rock and bailing him out? My blood sugar's running low, and my head spins. The memory of his arms around me and his love inside me--that was real, as real as the ring on my finger. I'll believe him until he tells me I'm out of his life.
My cell phone has over twenty voice mails, but I need to talk to my mother first so I call her. She doesn't pick up. After leaving a message telling her I'm coming home, I call Maryanne.
She answers on the first ring. "Vera! Are you okay? I was so worried."
"It's a long story, but I'm fine right now. How's my mom doing? Has the news hit the headlines yet?"
"Oh, gosh, yes. Your father's face is splashed across the TV, and the talk shows are buzzing. He's being called the Golden Gate Killer. There's something you have to know. Are you sitting?"
"What is it?" The urgency in her voice has my pulse spiking.
"Your mother had a heart attack. I called you several times, but you never answer."
Pain zaps through my solar plexus. "She's only forty-eight, how can that be? Is she stable?"
"Your uncle was there. He said it was mild. They put in a stent, but they're holding her for a few days to see if there are any clots."
"Oh, shit. I have to get on the next plane. Pray for her, please?"
"You don't have to ask. I've been praying for her and you. How's Zach? Lucas got a message that he's in jail."
"Can we not talk about this right now? I have to order tickets and get to the airport."
"Okay, sorry. I love you, Vera. I'll stop by and see your mom tomorrow morning after I take Emma for her checkup."
"Thanks, I love you, too. Give Emma a kiss for me?"
"Sure thing." She hangs up.
I browse to the airline website, praying that my credit limit is high enough to purchase a ticket. I still have to pay for the ticket for the flight I missed. After a couple of calls to my credit card company who initially blocked my charges, I finally book the cheapest flight I can get.
***
I arrive at San Francisco International Airport almost two days later, including a twelve-hour layover in Manila and a route change due to weather. Fortunately, I was able to give Zach's lawyer my statement while waiting for the connecting flight.
The constant throb of worry for my mother exhausts me and the sensational news makes me want to scream. Someone dug up Zach's mother's previous marriage to a vintner forty years older than her--Claudio Morelli, a diplomat to the Philippines in the Marcos days. Could Cliff be related to Claudio Morelli? A grandson or nephew?
There are also rumors of Lillian Spencer's dalliances with gardeners and employees, all dark-skinned men she met during her work for immigration reform. Even worse, one article suggests my mother's jealousy led to the murder.
After clearing customs, I put my phone away and walk the long path through the terminal. It's way past eight in the evening. With no checked bags, I rush toward the taxi stand when I hear a familiar grating voice.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't my wayward girlfriend." Cliff reaches for my arm. "I left later than you and arrived a day earlier. What were you on, a cargo jet?"
I sidestep him. "Why don't you take three quarters and press yourself in the bad penny machine?"
He chuckles annoyingly. "Your insults are as sweet as your kisses. Come on, I have a car."
Skidding to a stop, I consider yelling out to the airport police, but the penalties are too high for drawing attention and being mistaken for a terrorist. "Fine, take me back to my house."
After fastening the seatbelt, I clamp my mouth shut. I'd like to call the hospital and check on my mother's condition, but there's no way I want Cliff to overhear.
"You're some grouch," he says. "Is this how you'll wake up every morning after we're married? Oh, and nice rock. I must say I have great taste. Glad you've accepted."
"Whatever."
This idiot must be living on another planet. He places his paw on my knee and taps. "Where do you want to honeymoon? Aruba? Tahiti? Or perhaps you're more of the Parisian type?"
Argh! That doesn't even dignify a response. Well, maybe one. "Who's your biological father? Because if I were you, I'd find out before making any preposterous marriage claims."
His lips twist like he's suppressing a big secret, and he gleams at me with a self-satisfied look. "I had your DNA checked, and I know something you don't."
He's trying to bait me, make me beg information from him, so I ignore it.
Traffic is light as we approach the off-ramp near my mother's house. One question still burns me. How did Cliff know Zach's whereabouts the night of the kidnapping?
Before I can ponder this further, we arrive. Now comes the difficult task of ditching Cliff. Honey works better than shoe polish, so I tap his shoulder and flash him a wide smile. "That was really nice of you to give me a ride from the airpor
t. Let's have lunch next week and catch up. Last time I saw you was at the Grungy Caterpillar. Did you get food poisoning or something?"
"I was tailing Zach for you. He had a hot date and it wasn't Krista."
"Tell me something I don't know." I push the door open and step out of the car. "Thanks for the ride."
Cliff is quick on his feet. He trails me to my front door. "Hey, I want to apologize. I've got this syndrome where I blurt out the wrong things. I didn't mean to insult you."
"It's okay." I pull out my keys and unlock the front door. "See you later."
I should have known. He slides in before I can shut the door. "I can take you to the hospital."
"Visiting hours are over. I'll give them a call and see her tomorrow, but I have to shower and I'm dog tired." I flick on the light and drop my purse on the parson's bench. "Don't you have to work the night shift at Happy Bear or run my dad's winery?"
He turns the deadbolt and advances toward me, his expression stiff. What dramatic stunt is he pulling now?
I step toward the coat closet. "Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying."
He cracks his knuckles and a creepy smile slides across his face. The house is pitch dark except for the light at the entry.
I put on a brave face. After all, this is Cliff, my uncle's puppy and my father's employee. "I'm not playing. Please go away."
He grabs my left hand and tugs at the ring. "You can forget about Zach. I have glorious pictures of me and you in the shower."
"Huh? What are you talking about?" I yank my fingers from his grasp as the bottom drops from my stomach. Cliff must have had a hidden camera back at my father's mansion.
"Remember how you moaned? How you opened up to me?" He leans in, his hot breath raspy.
"That was before . . . stop." I push his face from mine. "Before I fell in love with Zach."
"Too bad, so sad." Cliff shakes his cell phone at me. "Zach won't want you when he gets these pictures. Heh, heh, heh."
My legs feel rubbery, but I'm not going let him have the upper hand. It doesn't surprise me someone as slimy as Cliff would stoop to blackmail.
"What do you want?"
"Your hand in marriage."
I swat at him as if he's a pesky fly. "I'm really not in the mood. Leave me alone."
