by Noelle Adams
“I think her organizational skills are being tested, what with the twins on the way.”
“I’m sure that’s true.” Blake stopped in front of a boxed set of baseball equipment. “Now here’s something that just might work.”
Mira steered the conversation back to the true subject of her interest. “So this guy Caleb, what’s his deal? You think he got freaked out, thinking about Rube and all?”
But Blake shook her head. “He doesn’t seem like the type for that. But it was definitely strange that he took off that way, especially after we’d had such a great day together. At least, I thought it was great.”
“Honey, any day with you is a great day.”
“You see why I love you?” Blake batted her eyes dewily.
“Look, you seem to think he’s a good guy, and if he is, then he has his reasons, right?”
“Oh, I’m sure he does, although I’m not at all sure that I’ll ever find out what they are. Every time I suggest we get together, he says he’s busy. I don’t know. Maybe ‘busy’ is Iowa-speak for ‘married.’”
“Or ‘gay,’” Mira put in.
Blake smiled painfully. “He’s not gay, that’s one thing I’m sure of. Maybe it means ‘I’m already schtupping someone else, since you didn’t put out right away.’”
Mira studied her friend closely. “It’s like that, huh?”
“No,” Blake said slowly. “I don’t really think it is. But like I said, it doesn’t look like I’ll ever have a chance to find out now.”
Mira brightened as the gong of reality struck. “You’re in love with this guy.”
Blake’s face went blank, and then she burst out laughing. “You are such a hopeless romantic!” she said. “Every time I turn around you’re accusing someone of being in love.”
“It’s not an accusation!” Mira protested. “It’s a statement of fact. Besides, love makes the world go ‘round, don’t you know that?”
Blake felt her laughter fade away, her good mood evaporating like vapor, leaving a dull ache in its place. “I’m not in love, and I’m not going to fall in love. With the situation I’m in, love is one thing I can’t afford.” She looked back at the toys on the shelf. “But not the only thing, apparently. How can they charge this much?”
“Don’t you dare try to change the subject! Something’s going on here and you need to tell me about it.”
“Okay, fine.” Blake picked up a softball and rolled it between her hands. “Maybe I am a little hung up on this guy.”
“No kidding.”
“But I know it’s never going to work, so I’m just torturing myself by thinking about him! Anyway, it’s probably for the best if we don’t see each other again.”
Mira touched her lightly on the arm. “Why don’t you just call him and tell him the truth?”
“What truth?”
“You know – about you. And Rube.”
Again Blake shook her head. “Can’t do it. Won’t do it. Rube needs to be able to trust me.”
“Rube needs to come home and explain himself to you, is what he needs to do!” Mira’s voice rose, and Blake shushed her. Mira continued in an angry whisper. “I’m sorry, but for him to disappear like that? Again? It’s not right. He’s just asking for you to leave him.”
“Well, he can ask,” Blake said stubbornly, “but I won’t do it.”
Aware that there was a lot more Mira wanted to say about the subject, Blake turned and went back to the first set of sports equipment that she’d been eyeing. It had everything – baseball bats, balls, gloves, bases, everything a boy needed on his eighth birthday. She tapped the box. “This is it. Ernie will love it.”
“Well, he’s your godson, so I guess you should know.”
“Yep, and I’ve been neglecting him far too much lately. Maybe this will make up for it.”
“You can’t buy love, Blake,” Mira said softly. Her iPhone rang and she fished it out of her purse. When she saw the caller ID, she lit up. “But whisking it off for a long weekend in Rome is a good start,” she added gleefully. “This is Rudolpho calling. I’ll be right back.”
Blake watched her friend exit the store to maximize her privacy and her cell phone reception. A man passing on a bicycle took one look at Mira and nearly rode into a tree. Blake bit back a laugh. Beauty like Mira’s tended to have that effect.
The salesgirl was only too happy to ring up Ernie’s birthday present. She even offered to have it gift-wrapped and delivered, but Blake preferred to handle both of those tasks herself. The party was a month away, anyway, but she liked to get these things done early, and besides, she needed the distraction. Days had gone by with no word from Rube, and although that wasn’t unusual in this particular situation, the silence was weighing heavily on her.
She remembered the way it felt to have Caleb’s arm draped protectively around her, the way her body flickered into life when they had shared that kiss on the mountaintop, and she felt a yearning that she hadn’t experienced in a long time. It wasn’t just sexual, it was the longing to connect. It was like she was just realizing that there was a world out there that was alive, electric, a world of hot winds and cool, starry skies. And she had been sealed up in her glass case too long, unable to feel any of it.
“I’m like a genie in a bottle,” she said. It took her a second before she realized she’d spoken out loud. A blush crept onto her cheeks.
The salesgirl’s practiced smile faltered at the edges, and she gave a tinny, uncertain laugh as she swiped Blake’s credit card.
“Sorry,” Blake said, smothering an embarrassed smile. “I usually do a better job of keeping my mental difficulties under wraps.”
Another laugh accompanied the return of the card, followed by the receipt. Blake waved aside an offer of help and carried the box outside, where Mira was just wrapping up her phone call.
“I’m starting to scare people,” Blake said, depositing the oversized box in the back seat of her convertible. “I think I need to get a life.”
Mira was flushed and beaming. Obviously the call had gone well. “I couldn’t agree more! Want to come to San Francisco with Rudolpho and me?”
“San Francisco? Didn’t you guys just get back from Rome?”
“Well, he has business to take care of in San Fran, and when he’s not working, he wants to be able to play.”
“So you’re his favorite playmate?”
“I am for the moment. Come on, what do you say?”
“I’ll have to take a rain check, sweetie, but thanks for the invite.”
Mira studied her. “Are you sure you’re okay? You know, I don’t have to go out of town. I could just as easily hang here and keep you company.”
“I don’t know. I feel worried, restless… I need to do something, but I don’t feel like this is the time for me to travel. I’m safer at home.”
“Safer?” Mira looked startled. “What do you mean by that?”
Blake groped for an answer, mentally chastising herself for her poor choice of words. “I just mean safer in the sense that… I’ll be more comfortable knowing that I’ll be able to see Rube when he comes home. We need to have a long talk.”
“I’ll say you do.” Mira rested her hands on her slender hips. There was no doubt she was still worried. “I wish you would tell me what’s going on.”
Blake laughed, feeling tears sting the corners of her eyes. “I wish I knew what was going on, myself.”
“Well, you’re not getting away from me yet. I’m taking you to lunch.” Blake began to protest, but Mira was not to be dissuaded. “Fine, then you’re taking me to lunch. Come on, you’re driving.” She opened the door of Blake’s car and hopped in.
“Fine.” Blake climbed behind the wheel. “But if I’m driving, you’re paying.”
“Whatever you say, babe.”
As they pulled away from the curb, they were too involved in their conversation to notice another car, this one a nondescript green sedan, pull out behind them.
Ten
But Caleb saw it. Sitting half a block down, in a nondescript sedan of his own, his tired eyes took in everything. When Blake and Mira moved, the green car moved. And when the green car moved, Caleb was on it.
It had been three days since he’d had a good night’s sleep, and his body, operating now on willpower alone, was beginning to lodge serious protests. Caleb knew he’d have to yield, have to sleep soon, or face the consequences of an all-out rebellion of the senses. But not quite yet.
Sixty-some hours ago, after the most magical day he’d experienced in years, he’d dropped Blake off at her house. He’d double-checked her security, bid her a hasty farewell and called a cab to take him back to his hotel, ignoring the blatant hurt and confusion he’d seen on her face.
At his hotel he’d called Steve and given him a terse rundown of what he’d seen – guy in a pink shirt, obviously a bad guy in a pink shirt, with sinister designs on their charge – and what he was doing. Then he’d gotten on his bike and ridden back to Blake’s house. No way was he leaving her alone tonight.
Secreting himself in the brush outside the walls, he’d hunkered down and waited. He’d stayed until dawn, listening, watching. He couldn’t help but realize that he could have done a much better job protecting her if he’d actually been in bed with her all night. But in order to keep his objectivity – heck, who was he kidding? – in order to establish his objectivity, he needed to be own his own.
When dawn came, he’d ridden back to his hotel and found a package from Steve waiting for him. It was a laptop computer, complete with wireless modem. “Join the rest of us in the twenty-first century,” Steve’s note had read. Caleb smiled to himself. Hell, he had a cell phone and an email account, what more could Steve want? But as he unpacked the equipment, and found it ready for him to turn on and use, he couldn’t deny that this would make his life, and his job, much easier.
He’d called Steve as soon as he had the computer up and running. “Pretty fancy gear,” he’d complimented his friend.
“I can tell you’re trying to play it low-key, but ten bucks says you fall in love with it and take it with you when you head home again.” Steve’s bantering tone turned serious, and he’d said, “Now, bring me up to speed. Any new developments?”
“None. I stayed outside her house all night, but saw nary a thing. Mr. Pinkshirt must have gone back to his motel with his family and stayed in all night.”
“Sounds like it. Have you talked with Blake this morning?”
“Not yet. I’ll call her as soon as I can and verify that she’s okay.” He paused, then forced himself to say what he was thinking. “I want to follow her for a couple days, track her from a distance, see if I can pick up on anybody who might be following her.”
“Good idea. But come by the office, first. I want you to look at some pictures. Maybe Pinkshirt has a jacket.”
Caleb grabbed a quick shower, then headed out the door again. He waved at the young man behind the registration counter on his way out, and left his motorcycle in the parking lot. He caught a cab to Steve’s office. Pinkshirt had seen Caleb at the Observatory yesterday, and his bike, too. No need to wave a red flag in the air by driving it around when he was trying to go unnoticed. A car was the best kind of vehicle for this type of surveillance, anyway. More protection, less conspicuous.
At Steve’s office he spent some time looking at photos of possible suspects, but Pinkshirt wasn’t among them, so he sat down with an artist who specialized in composite pictures. They stayed at the computer until they’d worked up a reasonable facsimile of Pinkshirt’s overly-average features. Steve promised to get the picture out to his contacts in law enforcement and see if anybody knew the guy. By then it was nearly noon and Caleb was getting anxious to get back to Blake. Steve provided him with a car and gave him a Blackberry to help him keep in touch.
“What are you trying to do, gizmo me to death?” Caleb asked. But in truth, he was glad to have it.
He had called Blake and found out her plans for the day, artfully dodging her request to see him. He could tell she was feeling wounded, or maybe just puzzled, at his behavior, especially after they’d gotten along so well last time they were together. He hated to upset her but right now he had no choice. He’d promised to call her later, then he’d hung up. And when she left the house that afternoon, he was ready for her.
Since then, he’d barely been away from her, although she didn’t know it. He’d called her twice a day, glad to hear her voice, wishing he could explain what was going on. He’d followed her to the grocery store, the shopping mall, the library. That last one had surprised him somewhat, but hey, what did he know? He’d slept in catnaps of an hour or two at a time, whenever he knew she was someplace safe. And there hadn’t been a single hint of anyone else watching her. Until today.
He followed her to a toy store in Beverly Hills, where she met up out front with yet another woman so beautiful that she barely seemed to inhabit this plane of existence. What was it with the women in this town? Blake’s companion, who he knew from his phone call with her was Mira, was wafer thin and moved with the grace of an angel down the city street. Caleb watched them go inside, and he prepared to wait it out.
But he found it hard to stay awake. The California sun shone down with merciless joy, beating on the roof of his borrowed automobile and heating the interior to a cozy, nap-inducing temperature. He rolled the front windows down and the back windows up, or the front windows up and the back windows down, depending on how the breeze was blowing. Periodically he started the car and ran the air conditioning.
The third time he nodded off he woke himself with the sound of his own snoring. Momentarily panicked, he leaned forward and verified that Blake’s car was still parked where he had last seen it. Then he slapped his cheeks, disgusted. “Ten years ago you could stay awake for days, barely moving a muscle, looking down the long scope of a sniper rifle,” he reminded himself. And his body whispered back, Ten years is a long time, old man.
He spotted a Java Joe’s half a block down the street, and decided to make a run for it. He needed motion. And caffeine. Keeping an eye on the front door of the toy store as well as on Blake’s car, he jogged the half block and walked gratefully into the cool dim interior of the coffee bar, where the very air seemed to be infused with caffeine.
He ordered the largest iced coffee that they served, and allowed himself an extra minute before heading back out into the heat. Out of habit, his eyes did a quick sweep of the shop, taking in a half-dozen other patrons who were taking a break to refuel before going about their daily lives. His gaze moved past a dark-haired man sitting by the front window, then snapped back again. It was him. Pinkshirt.
Caleb felt a shock go through him as he automatically registered the man’s average statistics – medium height, middling weight, run of the mill features. It was only the look in his eyes that made him identifiable: the laser-like way he gazed out of the front window, feigning lack of interest so well that only a practiced eye like Caleb’s could tell the difference. This was the guy he’d been waiting for, no doubt about it.
Had the man spotted him? No. Caleb blessed the training which had insisted he wear what he called yuppie-camouflage: chinos and a golf shirt instead of his usual t-shirt and jeans, with a ball cap covering his hair.
Moving casually, Caleb left the coffee shop and headed back to his car. Using the Blackberry, he sent Steve an email telling him what was going on. Then Caleb went back to waiting and watching, only this time, he was waiting for Pinkshirt to come out of the coffee shop, and he was watching for any other goons that might be loitering nearby, hoping to get a drop on Blake.
He sipped his coffee absently, although his need for caffeine had evaporated. He was working now on pure adrenaline.
The Blackberry beeped at the same moment that Blake exited the shop, lugging a huge box. She and Mira exchanged a few sentences then climbed into Blake’s car, prepared to take flight to where ever exotic birds like these spent their
days. Caleb saw Pinkshirt come out of the Java Joe’s and get into a green automobile. He used the phone in his camera to take a picture and email it to Steve, then he checked Steve’s message. It just said, “Understood. Birddog him, and report back ASAP.”
He watched Blake’s car pull away from the curb, with Pinkshirt close behind. As he pulled out into traffic, he murmured. “Birddog him, You’re damn right I will, and when the time is right, I’ll flush him out and take him down.”
*
But hours later, he was beginning to think that the time would never be right. He’d followed Pinkshirt all over creation – at least, the part of creation that was called Los Angeles – and never once had the guy done anything more than trail Blake from a discreet distance. It was creepy, to be sure, but it wasn’t criminal.
Blake and Mira had found a small neighborhood restaurant with a shaded back patio, and they’d sat and talked for well over an hour, toying with their food, sipping their drinks, laughing together. The two women were obviously as close as sisters, and for a while Caleb played with the idea of chatting up Mira, trying to see if she could shed any light on Blake’s relationship with Rube. But he nixed the idea pretty quickly. He already felt enough like a rat: following her, lying to her. Between himself and Pinkshirt, who was the bigger creep? Right now, it seemed like kind of a toss-up.
After the restaurant, Blake dropped Mira at her car, and headed back to Malibu. Caleb thought she would return to the beach house, but to his surprise she turned in the direction of Malibu Pier. She parked her car and strolled out along the pier, hands in her pockets, the ocean breeze tossing her hair. She appeared so deep in thought that Caleb once again felt like a heel for following her, invading her privacy. She looked like a woman who had a lot on her mind, and she deserved to be alone with her thoughts.
That was Caleb’s opinion, but Pinkshirt apparently disagreed. He parked his car and strolled after her, casual-like, but still at a less than careful distance.
