by Dianne Emley
“You threw your life away.”
“I already threw it away that night on a highway outside Reno looking for a whorehouse. Now I’m finally free from Andy Tovar. It was totally worth it.”
Chapter 59
Nan had finished making Granny’s potato salad recipe, her contribution to the barbecue she and Jim were having for the two of them in the backyard of his Altadena home. He’d lit the briquettes in his Weber Kettle barbecue and had gone back inside the house to finish prepping the steak, shrimp, and mixed vegetables that he was going to grill.
It was Memorial Day weekend. Wes and Kaitlyn had taken Emily and the two boys to San Diego. Nan was spending the long weekend at Jim’s house. They’d gone to the movies, taken a hike in Eaton Canyon, and puttered around his garden. The weather had been hot and Nan was wearing shorts and flip-flops. She took her margarita in a salt-rimmed glass to the gazebo Jim had built beneath the sprawling branches of two huge pittosporum trees and she sat on a glider there. She bent one leg beneath her and pushed the glider with her other leg on the gazebo’s concrete base and read Jared’s love letters to Erica. She put each one back into its envelope after she finished it.
Jim came out, holding a margarita, and went to the barbecue, where he used a long-handled spatula to spread out the red-hot briquettes. Grabbing an insulated mitt, he picked up the grate from where it was leaning against the barbecue, and set it in place over the briquettes. He went into the gazebo. “Whatcha doin’?”
Nan gathered up the envelopes strewn over the glider cushion to make room for him. She also picked up the long red ribbon that Jared had used to tie together the letters he’d hidden inside his school locker. “Reading Jared’s letters to Erica.”
Jim sat beside her and picked up one of the envelopes. “You didn’t book them into evidence?”
“No point.”
“Or give them to his mom?”
“I almost did. I brought Jared’s letters with me the other day when I went to Melissa Hayword’s house to tell her about Burglary finding Jared’s laptop. It was in that stash of stolen property in the storage unit rented by the ringleader of that smash-and-grab gang we just busted.”
“So it was stolen in a random burglary.”
“Yep. After I told Melissa about the laptop, I was about to hand her Jared’s letters and I just decided not to. So much of Jared’s life was under scrutiny. His mom hovered over him and he spent years talking to therapists. Melissa didn’t need to know how lovesick and semi-unhinged he was over Erica. At least he can keep that part of his life a secret.”
Jim set his margarita on a metal mesh table, looked over her shoulder, and read aloud from the letter she was holding. “The sun inhabits your golden hair. I see it spread upon a pillow like sunbeams circling your exquisite face with its luminous skin as if also lit by the sun from within, skin and hair that beg to be caressed ever so gently.” He sat back. “Wow. Are you sure they weren’t doing the nasty?”
“They definitely were not.” Nan folded the letter and put it into its envelope. “Actually, the majority of his letters are sweet. Some are a little carnal, but mostly sweet.”
“I recall you enjoying a little carnality.” He slid his arms around her and playfully nibbled her neck, making gnawing noises.
She cried out and tried to pull away, scrunching her shoulder and laughing. “Stop. It tickles.”
He wouldn’t stop. She pushed him and nearly fell off the glider, which was swinging crazily. He held on and kept her from tumbling off.
“Isn’t it time to put on the meat?”
He made one of his silly faces. “I couldn’t agree more.”
She shoved him. “Stop.”
Laughing, he got up and walked across the concrete-and-brick patio. “I’ll get the food.”
After he’d gone into the house, she gathered the letters and went to the barbecue. Putting on the insulated glove, she removed the hot grate and propped it against a low brick wall that provided seating around the trunk of a huge magnolia tree. She draped the red ribbon around her neck and tossed a letter onto the hot briquettes. Slowly, the fire caught the edges, blackening and curling them. Fire burst through the middle and the letter was quickly consumed. She tossed on another letter, watched it catch fire, and another.
By the time Jim returned carrying two Pyrex pans covered with plastic wrap, Nan was throwing on the last letter.
Jim set the pan on the brick wall and stood behind her with his arms around her waist as they both watched the last of Jared’s letters being consumed by flames. When there was nothing left but curling wisps of gray ash, Nan turned toward him, his arms still encircling her. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him.
He let her go and cocked his head at her.”What’s that smug expression for?”
She put the lid on the barbecue.
“You’ll put out the fire.”
“I think I’m starting one.” She took the ribbon from around her neck, tied an end around one of his wrists, picked up his other wrist, and tied both wrists together. “I brought that blond wig.”
“Oh, baby.”
With enough ribbon left over to use as a leash, she began walking toward the house, pulling him behind her.
This book is for
Dana Edwin Isaacson,
whom I’m proud to call my editor, fan, and friend.
Acknowledgments
A huge thank-you, as always, to my longtime editor, Dana Isaacson. My gratitude to you for having rescued Nan and for your tireless efforts to make her shine.
Special words of appreciation for my agent, Robin Rue, her excellent assistant, Beth Miller, and everyone at Writers House.
I’m grateful to the Random House/Alibi team for their support. Special thanks to Scott Biel for the fabulous cover design and Erika Seyfried and Ashleigh Heaton for savvy PR and marketing. Thanks again to Dianna Stirpe for the excellent copy editing work.
Very special thanks to Lily Pape Stevens, Jane Austen scholar, who helped me flesh out the world of one of this book’s key characters and who also permitted me to borrow the name of her dog, Mr. Darcy.
My gratitude to Phillip L. Sanchez, chief of police for the city of Pasadena, California, who spent time answering my questions and helping me to keep Nan Vining’s professional world real. Any errors in police policy, tactics, and procedures are mine.
Several friends played pivotal roles in the development of this book, reading messy early drafts and rendering wise advice. Special thanks to: Jackie Baller, Ann Escue, and Mary Goss. Huge thanks to Debra Shatford for devoting her creative mind and her time talking through difficult plot points with me.
For the readers who like to track down actual locations mentioned in books, many locations are real and I’ve attempted to write about them accurately. However, some cities, streets, and other places are products of my imagination. Also, the Young Journalist Award is fictitious.
And last, but never least, my enduring love and gratitude to my husband, Charlie, my safety net, for all the big and little things and the spaces in between.
PHOTO: BILL YOUNGBLOOD PHOTOGRAPHY
DIANNE EMLEY is a Los Angeles Times bestselling author and has received critical acclaim for her Detective Nan Vining thrillers, including The First Cut and Love Kills, and the Iris Thorne mysteries, including Pushover. Her short fiction has been published in Literary Pasadena, among other anthologies. Her novels have been translated into six languages. She has a BA in philosophy and an MBA in marketing, both from UCLA. She finally escaped the cubicle warren of business middle management and is delighted with her favorite and final profession: crime writer. A Los Angeles native, she lives in the Central California wine country with her husband, Charlie, where she’s a pretty good cook and a terrible golfer.
DianneEmley.com
Facebook.com/DianneEmleyAuthor
@DianneEmley
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