The Comeback Kiss

by Lani Diane Rich

  “They’re not going to take her away.”

  “How do you know? How can you tell me that?”

  He shook his head and put the palm of his hand gently on her face.

  “They’re not going to take her away.” His voice was rough and scratchy, and she couldn’t see his expression clearly through the tears suddenly welling in her eyes.

  “I don’t want to feel this,” she said. “It’ll kill me, I swear it will.”

  “Shhhh,” he said, pulling her into his arms. One arm held tight around her waist, and his other hand cradled her head. She rested the side of her face on his chest and closed her eyes, letting the tears fall where they may.

  “I can’t do it,” she said. “I got through everything else but I can’t get through this.”

  He kissed the top of her head, and she allowed herself to lean into him. She had more she wanted to say, but the sobs were choking her, and she couldn’t get it all out. She couldn’t tell him how much she missed her mother, how much she wished her mother could be there to tell her what to do and how to take care of Izzy. She couldn’t tell him how many times she’d wanted to find him, just for the peace of mind of knowing he wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere. She couldn’t tell him how much it meant to her that he was there, or how terrified she was of waking up one day and finding him gone again.

  Instead, she just folded herself into his arms and cried until everything around her softened and went black.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Finn lowered Tessa onto her bed. She sniffled a little, then rolled onto her side without waking up. Finn let out a breath and sat on the bed next to her. He unlaced his boots as quietly as he could, slipped them off, then slid into bed next to her, spooning her from behind, one arm draped over her waist and the other supporting his head as he watched her.

  She hiccuped out a half sob. He shushed into her ear and gently kissed her face. Her eyes didn’t open, but she seemed to calm down a bit. He reached up and nudged her hair away from her face. Even all red and puffy-eyed, she was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on, and if he ever doubted for a moment that he was beyond in love with her, he knew better now. His chest felt as if it were cracked right open, and he would have moved heaven and earth if he thought it would just make her smile.

  As fate would have it, though, the only thing he could really do for her would be to go away. Even though he’d never gotten caught during his bird thieving days, the only employment he’d had in the last ten years was a part-time job at a pet shop in Manhattan. Everything else, even his jobs with Babs, were all under the table. On paper, he was a loser and a freeloader and that was the last thing Tessa needed in her life.

  He could stay a few more days, just long enough to put Izzy’s concerns about her mother’s death to rest, and then he’d have to go.

  There was just no other way.

  He lowered his face down onto the pillow next to her and inhaled the scent of her. Her hand lazily came up over his, pulling his arm even tighter around her waist. He kissed her cheek, then settled in next to her, trying to live fully in that moment for as long as it lasted.

  ***

  Tessa opened her eyes to find herself in her bedroom, bright with sunlight. Disoriented, she blinked a few times before realizing it wasn’t morning.

  She’d already had morning.

  And, whoa, what a morning. Vague images flew at her. Mary Ellen Neeley. The padfolio. The gin. Finn.

  Finn.

  “Oh, God,” she groaned, and put her hand over her eyes.

  She’d thrown herself at Finn.

  Better still, she’d thrown herself at Finn and been shot down.

  “Oh, God,” she groaned again, wishing she could just pull the covers over her face and forget everything that happened.

  But she couldn’t. She was an adult. She’d gotten drunk at ten o’clock in the morning, and whatever the consequences were for that kind of crap, she’d have to face them.

  She rolled over in bed and looked at the spot where she thought Finn had been. Maybe she’d dreamed the part where he’d snuggled with her. Maybe he was on his way back to wherever he’d come from. Maybe she’d so thoroughly freaked him out that he caught the first bus out of town.

  She reached out and ran her fingers lazily over the space next to her, remembering how kind he’d been to her, even while shooting her down. She remembered the feel of him holding her together while she fell apart, safe in his arms. All these years, the people in her life had been there for her and supported her and kept her sane, but no one had ever made her feel safe.

  How did he do that?

  The front door slammed downstairs, startling her.

  Izzy.

  She closed her eyes. Izzy. A stab of dread shot through her, and then she took a deep breath and pulled herself together. Izzy wasn’t lost yet. There was still a fight to be had, and goddamn if Mary Ellen Neeley and her freakin’ padfolio weren’t going to get just that. She heard Izzy’s voice downstairs, followed by the rumble of Finn’s voice.

  He’s still here, she thought. Thank God.

  She pulled herself out of bed, went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and drink a little water, and then headed down the stairs. As she appeared on the landing, both Izzy and Finn looked up at her. Izzy had an expression of serious concern on her face, and moved toward the bottom of the stairs to meet Tessa.

  “What happened?” Izzy said.

  “Nothing.” Tessa exchanged a warning look with Finn.

  He nodded and she knew they were on the same page: don’t tell Izzy.

  “Fine,” Izzy sighed. “Don’t tell me. I don’t care. There’s something...” Izzy nibbled at her lip and looked nervously from Finn to Tessa.

  Oh, crap, Tessa thought. What now?

  She sat on the bottom step and ran her hands over her hair.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’m sitting. What’s up?”

  “I have something I need to... um...” Izzy reached into her pocket and pulled out a bundle of tissue paper. Tessa’s eyebrows knit as Izzy handed it to her.

  “What is this?”

  Izzy sniffled. “It’s Mom’s.”

  Tessa looked at her for a minute, then unwrapped the tissue paper, gently pulling a familiar locket and chain from the bundle.

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered as she looked at it. She hadn’t thought about the locket in a long time, but she recognized it instantly. Her mother had never left the house without it. “Where did you find this?”

  Izzy didn’t answer. Tessa pulled on the locket and it opened easily in her hands, revealing pictures of her and Izzy that she hadn’t seen in ten years.

  “The clasp is broken,” she noted, staring at it in wonder.

  “Is that what you pulled from Vickie Kemp’s mailbox yesterday?” Finn asked, his voice quiet.

  Izzy glanced at him, nodded. “Along with this,” she said, handing him an envelope. He pulled out the paper inside, read it, and handed it to Tessa.

  LEAVE IT ALONE. Along with her mother’s locket. Someone was trying to send a message.

  Someone had killed her mother.

  Tessa felt a coldness run through her, and hugged herself to ward it off.

  “You found this in Vickie’s mailbox?” she asked Izzy. “What was it doing in Vickie’s mailbox?”

  Finn settled on the stairs next to Tessa. “Whoever put it there probably wanted Vickie to find it when she got back. It’s a good place to put it; the fire investigators have no reason to go into her mailbox.”

  “Okay.” Tessa nodded, trying to take it all in, then looked up at Izzy. “You found this yesterday? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Izzy sighed. “I didn’t want to say anything unless I knew for sure that the locket was Mom’s, and I was too afraid to open it. I made Sosie do it for me.”

  Finn’s face darkened. “Who’s Sosie?”

  “Her friend from school,” Tessa said.

  “You told your friend about all this?
” Finn’s voice was angry, and Izzy bristled.

  “Yeah,” she said, looking at him like he was stupid. “She’s my best friend. Duh.”

  Finn looked at Tessa. “What is it with women and the best friend thing?”

  Tessa sighed. “It’s a girl thing. The best friend is a sacred relationship. You keep nothing from the best friend.”

  “That’s insane.” He paused for a second, his focus on Tessa. “Do you have a best friend?”

  Tessa raised an eyebrow and said flatly, “Used to.”

  She could tell by Finn’s expression that he got the stinger end of the comment, as intended. Part of her felt bad, but part of her didn’t.

  Finn turned his attention to Izzy. “You need to make sure she doesn’t tell anyone, for her sake and yours.”

  “She won’t,” Izzy said, irritation seeping into her tone. “She can keep a secret.”

  Finn stood up. “Let’s hope so. Izzy, it’s really important that you understand what this means.”

  “I’m not remedial,” Izzy said. “It means I was right.” She looked down at Tessa. “It means someone killed Mom.”

  Tessa felt her heart clutch at the thought. Finn glanced down at her, then back at Izzy.

  “Not so fast, Grasshopper,” he said. “Someone scared your mom, and she got in a car.”

  “Which means they killed her!”

  Finn put one hand on Izzy’s shoulder. “Which means they’re responsible. But we don’t know if they meant to kill her. You’re connecting a lot of dots that might not be there, and you need to take it down a notch if we’re going to do this right. We don’t want to screw this up, okay?” Izzy calmed and nodded. Finn gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, then let go.

  “Okay. So let’s connect the dots we’ve got.” He glanced down at the locket in Tessa’s hands. “Someone put this in Vickie’s mailbox to intimidate her into minding her own business. Whoever that someone is knows the significance of the locket, and expects Vickie to know, too.” Tessa put one hand on the banister and pulled herself up.

  “So we find Vickie and ask her what the connection is.”

  “Or,” Finn said, “we go to the police and give them everything and let them deal with it.”

  “What?” Tessa shook her head. “No, we can’t—”

  Finn held his hand up and Tessa went quiet.

  “I think we’ve got some damn compelling evidence that there’s a bad guy out there,” he said. “The police can protect you.”

  “No,” Tessa said, shaking her head. “Izzy’s broken into safes, she’s violated crime scenes. I’m not taking the chance of that getting out.”

  Finn’s face flooded with understanding, and Izzy threw her hands up in frustration.

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Tessa, would you quit worrying about what the stupid social worker will think for once!”

  “The social worker can bite my ass,” Tessa said. “If there’s someone out there lighting things on fire, I don’t want them wondering what you might know.”

  Izzy blinked. “Did you just say the social worker could bite your ass?”

  Izzy smiled and Tessa smiled back, but when she looked at Finn, he didn’t look as amused by the whole “bite my ass” thing as they were.

  “I think it’s a mistake not to involve the police, right now,” he said. “This guy has already gotten away with murder once.”

  “Since when are you such a big fan of the police?” Tessa asked.

  “Since now,” he said. “Since someone started setting things on fire. You need protection.”

  “And we have you,” Izzy said. “You’re a private detective, right? Can’t you protect us?”

  Finn sighed, and Tessa reached over and gave his hand a subtle squeeze. He looked at her, but didn’t say anything.

  “Yeah,” Tessa said, keeping her eyes locked on Finn. “He can.”

  Finn didn’t look happy, but he didn’t argue. That was something.

  “Well,” Izzy said, picking up her backpack from where she’d dropped it by the door. “I’m gonna hit the homework and let you two fight this out.”

  She started toward the stairs, stopping when Tessa pulled her in for a hug.

  “Thanks for telling me,” Tessa said. “About Mom’s locket. About everything.”

  Izzy smiled. “Yeah. Of course.”

  Tessa kissed her on the cheek and released her, watching her sister with a strange mix of pride and affection. Babs was right. Tessa had done an incredible job with Izzy. By any scale other than Mary Ellen Neeley’s, Izzy was a spectacular kid. Why did it take all the drama to make her see that?

  “You need to take this to the police,” Finn said.

  She turned her attention to Finn. “Boy, now who’s uptight?”

  He stepped closer to her, glanced up the stairs where Izzy had gone, and spoke in lowered tones.

  “I’m not a private detective,” he said.

  Tessa smiled. “I’ve got eighty-nine dollars in my sister’s piggy bank that says different.”

  Finn gave a brief nod acknowledging the skillful turnabout, but looked unamused. “I can’t protect you, not as well as someone who’s trained in dealing with this kind of thing.”

  Tessa tried to consider what he was saying, but her instinct was screaming “No,” and it was just louder.

  “And what are the police gonna do, huh? We have a vague threatening note and a broken locket, all related to an accidental death that happened ten years ago. If we go to the police now, everyone will know—including this bad guy. I’m not taking a chance with this person finding out Izzy knows something.”

  “Or the social worker finding out that Izzy broke some laws.”

  Tessa felt her bite-my-ass bravado start to slip. Best friends, man. They always knew.

  She shrugged. “Look, I’m done kissing up to Mary Ellen Neeley. Wench wants a fight, she’ll get one. But... yeah. It won’t help at all if any charges are pressed against Izzy.”

  Finn watched her for a long moment, then ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

  “Okay. No police. But I think I should stay here, then.” Tessa blinked. “You were going somewhere?”

  “I thought... well.” He shrugged. “I didn’t want to assume... you know. Just because I crashed on the couch for one night, that’s not an open invitation. But now, with the insane arsonist and everything, I think maybe it’s a good idea. And I’m glad to see you agree.”

  Tessa couldn’t help but smile at that one. “You’re glad to see I agree?”

  “You making fun of me?” he said, a trace of indignation in his voice.

  Tessa moved closer, placing her hand against his chest as she sidled up next to him, enjoying the thump-thump she felt under her fingers.

  “Little bit,” she said, angling her head up to look at him. “You’re just always so quick with the verbal. It’s kinda fun to see you off your game.”

  He looked down at her and smiled, letting his arms circle her waist. “I am not off my game.”

  She could hardly believe how good it felt just to relax in his arms.

  One side of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “How did this conversation get dangerous again?”

  “I think we just do that,” she said.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I think we do.”

  With that, he kissed her chastely on the nose and released her, clearing his throat as he walked toward the dining room table.

  “So, uh,” he said, “I guess we need to work on tracking down Vickie Kemp, then.”

  Shot down twice in one day, she thought. Has to be some kind of record.

  She watched as he grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from the hutch in the dining room, and couldn’t help but smile at how businesslike his demeanor was. She knew he was just playing it safe, and she had to respect that. She’d been doing that herself for quite some time.

  The only thing was, playing it safe got you a whole lot of nowhere. It had taken a long time for that lesson to make its way thro
ugh her thick skull, but now that it had, Tessa knew she was all done with safe.

  Finn looked up at her.

  “You gonna come in here and help me figure this out, or are you just gonna watch me with that stupid grin on your face?”

  “I beg your pardon,” she said with mock indignation as she headed toward the dining room. “This just happens to be the smartest grin I own.”

  ***

  Vickie Kemp sat on the olive green beanbag chair in Margie Fletcher’s basement and drummed her fingers against her arm. She’d been down there for almost a full week, and there was no sign she’d be leaving anytime soon.

  And, as much as she loved Margie, the woman’s cooking was really atrocious. But, bright side, Vickie thought she might be losing some weight. She glanced down at her middle-aged middle, sucked it in, let it go.

  Eh. Maybe not.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Margie said, traipsing down the basement stairs carrying a pizza box, paper plates, and a two-liter bottle of soda.

  “That better be pepperoni,” Vickie said.

  Margie gave her a look as if to say “Duh,” then settled down on the futon and put the pizza and soda on the old glass coffee table. Vickie pushed herself up from the beanbag—no mean feat for a forty-eight-year-old woman—and walked over to the minibar in the corner.

  “Oh, no,” Margie said, hand on the flat stomach Vickie tried hard not to envy. “No rum for me tonight.”

  “So, what then?” Vickie glanced at the stock of liquor. “Vodka, scotch, or that awful homemade cranberry wine Astrid made last year?”

  There was a slight pause. “Vodka.”

  Vickie retrieved the other bottle, then sat on the futon and mixed alcohol and soda while Margie settled the pizza slices on the paper plates. It was the picture of twenty- first-century domesticity—two middle-aged divorcees getting blitzed over pizza on a Thursday night.

  “So,” Vickie said, grabbing a slice, “what’s the news?” Margie’s face registered disappointment. “No news. Although Finn did visit me at the store today.”

  Vickie paused midbite and pulled back from the pizza. “That’s news. Did you tell him anything?”