by Livia Quinn
Those piercing silver eyes turned toward me. “His death has nothing to do with this.”
I grabbed my hair and growled in frustration. “Then—”
His narrowed eyes met mine. “Because he’s not dead.”
Chapter 38
Jack
When Peggy had given me the news that Dutch Pomeroy was alive, I’d been surprised, and a million questions had bombarded me; but Tempe looked like she’d been hit by a lightning strike out of clear blue sky. More interesting even to me was what Peggy had relayed after that. “I forget that you weren’t here then, Jack. Everyone around here knows that Tempe woke up the day after she found out her father was dead to those bright streaks in her hair.” I ached for her, as I imagined what it would have been like for Jordie to hear her daddy wasn’t coming home, ever again.
Tempe’s skin was translucent; she swayed like a fragile willow on the verge of collapse and reached for the counter, something solid to hang on to. This woman always rolled with the punches, and there had been a lot of them. I hoped this one didn’t send her over the edge.
McGuinness on the other hand was grinding his teeth and sending me laser missiles from eyes suddenly black and deadly. What? I was just the messenger. Oh, yeah, he had his own secrets.
Finally a whisper of a question escaped her, “What do you mean he’s not dead?”
She glanced at the inspector who didn’t return her look, then back at me. She was slowly coming to her senses, like a fighter from a knockout punch. A tear escaped from her flooded eyes and spilled down her devastated features. I could only imagine what she was feeling, having built her life around the belief that the father Peggy said she’d been rarely seen without was dead, and now to find out that was a lie.
I hadn’t wanted to believe Tempe knew about her father, and was a good enough liar to keep it from me. But that would have been better than the anguish and hurt she was experiencing now, and the betrayal that would be exposed in the minutes to come. Don’t shoot the messenger, Sweetheart.
I was still getting the scary looks from Dylan, but now they were mixed with what looked like concern—for Tempe? Or the relationship he hoped to resume? She might have thought it was over between them, but I got the sense that McGuinness was still interested.
I cleared my throat and slapped my hat against my leg. This whole investigation had been like a cancer with feelers going out from the tumor at the center. The problem was I had been missing important information.
Thinking all along that Tempe had been at the center, when all the while we’d each been tending to our respective responsibilities—me, to the investigation of the murder—and Tempe in her worry over her brother.
At each stage of the investigation, I’d learned more about Tempe, about what she’d been through to keep her brother with her, about her loyalty to her friends, the strained relationship with her mother. I’d seen the longing in her eyes when she talked about her father’s “death”. Her vibrant hair was proof of the shock she’d received and what it meant to her.
Now I wondered if everything didn’t boil down to why her father had faked his demise. And if she hadn’t known about her father, then there was something else she was hiding. What was it?
I felt a wave of rage wash through me as I thought about what her parents had put her through. I hated that I was about to add to that pain. Our budding relationship was liable to hit the skids once I explained, but I owed it to her. “The other day, I gave Peggy instructions to dig into your family background.”
She tilted her head and burned me with a glare. “That was—”
“Before I knew your brother had gone missing.”
Her shoulders relaxed a bit and she nodded, waiting for the rest.
“If it hadn’t been for a security leak a few days ago we might never have known. This morning Peggy got a wire from an official at a high-max prison where your father has spent the last nineteen years.”
Tempe swayed again and I grabbed a chair from the dining room. She waved me away, “Go on.” She rubbed her temples as if the words weren’t making sense. Dylan put a hand on her shoulder.
I grit my teeth and continued, “Apparently, when he was working in the Mideast, he ran high stakes cons from Dubai to Kiev and stole from some powerful people, until it came crashing down. He pled guilty, but the authorities said unless he turned over the numbers for the offshore accounts, he’d rot behind bars.”
She exhaled the breath she’d been holding while I related the details. “Where is he now?”
“Well, that’s kind of interesting. He was released the day after your brother was there. Sunday—which was just prior to the murder of your mother’s alleged lover, her disappearance, and that of your brother.”
“What—” she turned a bright shade of pink. “What are you saying? That he had something to do with the murder? With my brother’s disappearance?”
I scratched my head, trying to ignore what I saw in her eyes. I softened my words, “I don’t know, Tempe. The timing is just so damning.” And what kind of scum keeps his family in the dark, letting them think he’s dead, hmm? “It makes sense,” in a sick kind of way.
“About as much sense as me being a murderer, Jack,” she said, hands on her hips and color blooming in her cheeks.
I winced. As gently as I could, I asked, “Did you miss the part about your brother visiting him last Sunday?”
She turned away, her head shaking furiously. Then her shoulders went stiff and she spun around transferring her glare to McGuinness. She’d figured it out. A tiny sliver of satisfaction poked me in the heart, but found itself lodged next to the resident empathy as she made one step toward Dylan and swung her knee up, nailing him in the groin, before either of us could react.
Not that I would have stopped her.
He went to his knees, the groan that escaped making me sympathize, but not much. “Tempe, let me—”
“You!” She grabbed the bright strands of her hair, twisting it with her fingers. “I can’t believe it. What was your game in all this?” She paced back and forth.
I just stood by like a spectator and waited to see what secrets would be unveiled. Maybe now she’d confide in me.
Tempe
I couldn’t believe Dylan could do this to me…to my family. We’d been lovers, friends—at least I’d thought so. It made me sick that I’d fallen for that false sincerity, and thinking of his apology and that kiss… Arrgh. I turned back toward him. My vision blurred for a minute. What was the likelihood that River and Dylan were the only ones who had known about Dutch? Did Aurora know?
Something didn’t ring true. Dutch gambling? It wasn’t that he couldn’t have done what Jack said. But why? He was an old, powerful Djinni. He had merely to wish a billion dollars into an offshore account, or into Jack’s trunk for that matter, and it was there, no-no or not. Could it have been boredom? Did he need some kind of diversion because my mother was such a flake?
I felt the stir of electrical forces race to my nerve endings. Dylan straightened, his expression closed off, while I came to the most shocking conclusion of all. Suddenly, his dark eyes held compassion and understanding.
“She knew.” When I finally grasped the truth, I felt the rip in my soul. A choked sob was torn from my chest. “Phoebe knew.” I turned away from them, my heart sinking into a deep valley of confusion.
Dylan made no attempt to affirm or deny my conclusion. I paced again, trying to make sense of my life, the people I loved—the order of things tumbling around me. Everything I thought I knew for sure had been upended and stomped into the Louisiana gumbo.
Menori responded to my distress, revving my molecular engine, stirring the elements to a dangerous tipping point. I heard my own heartbeat race, thumping in my ears, drowning out the sounds around me. I panted as if I’d just completed a sprint, then it simply… stopped, like a pot of boiling water removed from the heat. I made my way to the chair and sank down on rubbery knees. My head dropped into my palms.
I seemed to be the only one who’d been left out of the loop. Why? How long had this been going on? When did River find out? What did all of this have to do with his disappearance? Now what?
I sighed and lifted my head to look at Dylan. I felt Jack on the periphery but all my concentration was on this new knowledge. I asked the question, “What now?”
“Now it begins, Tempest.”
Finally, my name.
What I saw in his eyes was disconcerting… kindness, triumph, relief? How long had it been since I’d heard my real name come across his lips, before that night at BBs. “You didn’t use one of those ridiculous ‘P’ names…” I half muttered.
“There’s no longer any need,” he said cryptically.
Chapter 39
Jack
I threw up my hand. “Wait, wait!” There was a whole level of communication going on between Dylan and Tempe I wasn’t privy to. They didn’t even act like I was there. That was about to end.
Okay, so my theory about Tempe’s father being responsible for the murder, or being connected to Phoebe and River Pomeroy’s abrupt vacations didn’t seem to work for them, but why couldn’t they see the connection?
“What am I missing?” Both of them turned to me, surprised. “Yeah, still here.”
I addressed Tempe first, “I get the feeling that you don’t see your father for the scumbag he was. All of the problems you and your mother and brother had, the financial hardships, the discord, were caused by your father running off, faking his death and ending up in prison, unable and unwilling to be a part of the family, or support it. He sounds like a pretty self-centered bastard at the very least and a criminal to boot.”
She just stood there with her hand on her hip like I was more irritating than her friend, McGuinness. I turned to him.
“Why are you aiding and abetting Dutch Pomeroy, keeping Tempe in the dark, and pretending not to know what’s going on? If Dutch’s location hadn’t been leaked, I might never have found out. I could bring you up on obstruction charges you know.”
Dylan cursed. “You sound like one of Tempe’s supervisors, Lang, ‘All I know is what I read in the Destiny Tribune’. It’s time you tried to think outside your comfort zone. If you were the cop I pegged you for, you’d pay attention to your instincts, think beyond what you ‘see’ with your eyes. Why do you think Dutch’s location got leaked now? Because you had Peggy search?”
He rolled his eyes and snorted derisively. “Right. Like that hasn’t been done a hundred times since his apparent ‘death’. The same goes for the report you got on the gambling problem. Why didn’t that show up on some interagency report before now? Shouldn’t there have been some activity in oh, say, the last nineteen years? You really think you’re that talented?”
He pointed to his own head. “Think, man.”
The points he raised caught me off guard. I prided myself on having an open mind, but it had been difficult in this town, ever since… well, ever since I’d met Tempest Pomeroy. Had my attraction to her skewed my instincts somehow? Something had bothered me about the reason Dutch went to the prison. “Why were you involved?”
The PI breathed in a harsh sigh and glanced cautiously at Tempe. “I was chosen as kind of a godfather and mentor for River and Te—and Aurora, for Tempe.”
Tempe’s head swiveled quickly toward him. Her narrowed eyes hid a wealth of emotion. She seemed about to blow.
Dylan? A mentor? I’d have to ask him about how that worked. The creep. Was he supposed to be mentoring her when he was sleeping with her?
“Dutch and Phoebe have… enemies,” he said. “He went underground, so to speak, ‘off the grid’ to protect his offspring and Phoebe.”
Offspring. That was an archaic way to put it. “I don’t understand. What kind of enemies? Gambling associates?”
“Gambling is a human failing. That was not an issue for Dutch. It was all a cover.”
A human failing, he’d said. I thought I was a pretty sharp detective, but I couldn’t figure out where he was going with these odd phrases.
Tempe faced Dylan, “Aurora knew all of this?”
Dylan had the decency to at least look contrite. “I’m sorry, Tempe. It was all for your protection and River’s.”
I butted in, “What about the relationship you had with Tempe a couple years ago?”
Tempe’s eyes focused hard on Dylan. “Yeah, what about that?”
“It’s not that I didn’t care, Tempe. I did.”
“It was all a lie.”
Tempe’s voice was small, but I wouldn’t have made the mistake of calling it weak. It felt like the air leaving the atmosphere before a hurricane. “The truth—now, Dylan.” Her voice vibrated with fury.
McGuinness held up a hand. “My breaking up with you, making it look like I was involved, it was cruel, but nothing else was working—”
Was this guy callus or what? I’d met men like him. He’d cheated and let her catch him because she wouldn’t leave their relationship? Tempe’s words about trust came home to me; plenty of her closest family and friends had lied, or at least kept the truth from her. They’d controlled and influenced the last nineteen years of her life. I had to give her credit. I’d be venting my rage on the closest target.
“—I did it to try to force you into your… maturity,” this with a glance at me.
What? He was expecting support from me? I almost laughed in his face, but just shook my head. He was too much. A liar, manipulator, and then to throw more excuses at her… I had to hear his answer if only for the entertainment.
“What the hell did that mean, you ass? Her maturity?”
They both turned toward me. Dylan said, “Her Vyal K’allanti, the quickening.”
Huh?
Jack
“Huh?” My gray matter had turned to cotton, and I had a sudden premonition that I should stop him from speaking, that there was more I wasn’t ready for, but apparently it didn’t matter.
“All of this because I wouldn’t accept my gift?” Tempe asked him.
“What gift?” I asked, again feeling extraneous.
Dylan’s black brow arched. “Are you sure you want to know?”
Why the hell not? “Go ahead, hit me.”
Here comes the secret, I thought, just as I was slammed back against the wall by a sudden icy wind, and had to spread my legs to stay upright. I looked toward the front door, or tried to. The force of the wind kept me pressed against the rack of clubs and shirts, the shelves digging into my back. Tempe’s hair was whipping around her head like debris in a vortex.
Frozen in place, I watched as she raised her fist and brought it down, as if backhanding some invisible surface. Thunder shook the foundation, and clubs fell narrowly missing my head. Thunder? Nah.
Her eyes flared when they met mine. There, I saw not only her anger and frustration, but an explosion of light particles like a meteor shower moving from her pupils to the edges of her irises. She extended her fist; uncurled her fingers. Brilliant white fire sizzled there, snapping and hissing, reflecting in those otherworldly eyes.
“What the—”
She flipped her palm over and aimed a wood scorching white-hot blade in my direction. The trail of charred hardwood halted between my trembling legs. But she wasn’t done. Eyes transfixed on mine, she raised her arm toward the ceiling.
I’m not that slow. I ducked, but it wasn’t a fire bolt this time. Fat droplets of water fell around me like the early seconds of a hard thundershower, then came a deluge. My first thought was the sprinkler system, but that didn’t explain the thunderclouds floating just below the ceiling or the hailstones bouncing off the floor.
Indoors. It was hailing…indoors.
Visible beyond the French doors, through the water pouring off the brim of my hat, were the sun-baked greens at the back of the clubhouse.
Tempe and Dylan stood beyond, untouched by the stormy weather in the room. Was I imagining this or was this her gift—that she was able to make me
think I was in the middle of a thunderstorm?
The force pressing me against the wall eased. I looked down at the uniform clinging to my body, my pants and shoes. They were soaked through. “Tempe…” I started forward as soon as I was able to move. That got me another declarative strike, this one aimed strategically higher.
“Enough!” I growled.
The pressure against my body and the…elements subsided. I couldn’t name them rain or thunder because I was inside an enclosed building, and it just…wasn’t…possible. Where was the thunder and lightning and the wind now?
Looking at Tempe and Dylan on the other side of the room in their dry clothing, one might believe it hadn’t happened. That is, if one could explain the sodden rugs, beads of water on counters, and the smell of ozone rising from the inch of golf ball sized hail littering the floor among the actual golf balls.
Silence prevailed for several long seconds, with Dylan and Tempe both looking like two battle ready warriors awaiting the next move from their opponent, me.
Well, I’d asked for it. Of course, having no idea in hell what I was asking, I couldn’t help but think Tempe had taken her mad out on me. Why not McGuinness? The obvious answer was that I was the one with the learning curve, so I’d pulled the short straw. It struck me then that I should be running for the hills. Why wasn’t I?
I removed my hat, tilted it and held it at arm’s length, so the rest of the water could run off onto the already soaked floor. I pretended a calm I didn’t feel having learned years ago never to let junior officers, perps or, in McGuinness’ case, rivals sense any weakness. With him, it could be fatal. Swiping a hand over my face, I blew out a long breath and placed the hat back on my head. Crossing my arms I leaned against wall.
“I guess you’d better start at the beginning.”
