The wind picked up his curly hair and rearranged an already unruly hairdo. A thin red scar ran just in front of his hairline from eye level to his jaw.
He closed her car door, pulling her attention from his face. “I’m sorry for staring. Is it still painful?”
“Only when I smile.” His chuckle didn’t sound friendly as he placed her suitcase in the trunk and then slid behind the wheel with no effort. He put on dark sunglasses and turned to her. “Now let’s see if I can help get your questions answered to your satisfaction.”
“Apparently, my grandmother kept this important piece of information from the family for over fifty years. This wasn't a little white lie, and it has me questioning what’s real and what’s not in my life. So yes, I’m hoping for answers. You knew Charles Pearson, maybe you can help.” She wasn’t given to rambling, but found herself pouring her soul out to this stranger.
“I’ll fill in what blanks I can. I’m assuming you asked your grandmother why she kept Charlie a secret.”
“She’s on a yacht with a friend and won’t return my calls. How do you know it’s this particular grandmother that knew Charles Pearson?”
“Is her name Ruthie?”
Samantha swallowed hard. “It’s Ruth.”
“That should tell you something.” Linc turned the key and the car’s engine roared to life. “Your parents couldn’t help?”
“No.” Samantha’s head ached from being so full of questions. “My mother and father are both gone.” She clamped her bottom lip between her teeth to stop it from trembling. This news had been a lot to take in. “If they knew about Mr. Pearson, they never shared it with me.”
“I can’t imagine how you feel.” Linc backed out of the parking spot and sped down the exit ramp.
Samantha tightened her seat buckle. “So tell me why you think Charles was murdered.”
“I’m positive Charlie’s death wasn’t an accident. He bought that café to be near the ocean, but he would never have gone for a midnight swim. In fact, he was scared to death of the water.”
“You know that for a fact?”
“Damn right I do. I surf and swim. Back before he got really sick, I tried to get him to join me. He used his most colorful language to tell me there was no way he’d ever stick a toe in the ocean.”
“But his death was ruled a suicide.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to agree.”
“Why would anybody kill him?”
“I have no idea, but he’d been acting weird. Distant. At the time, I attributed that to the fact that he was on the losing side of cancer and getting weaker by the day.” Linc changed lanes and drove onto the freeway. “But if he really wanted to check out, he’d have chosen a different method.”
Her brain was going to explode. She was living in a hailstorm of unanswered questions. “Please go on.”
“As far as I can tell, he never tried to keep you or your dad a secret.” Linc paused. “He told people he had a son who’d died, your father, and bragged that he was a decorated firefighter. He always followed that up by telling people about his beautiful granddaughter. He spoke about your grandmother, but never shared a lot with the customers.”
“So many ‘whys’ keep rolling through my mind. Why didn’t he reach out before he died? Why talk about me but not to me? Why did he leave the property to me? It’s just too much.”
“Because you were his only living relative? Because he loved you? Because he wanted to atone for not being around? Hell, that last one may be one of those unanswerable questions.”
“Please. How do you love a stranger?” She laid her head back, allowing the warm sun and wind to caress her skin. She had to let her brain rest, if just for a minute.
“Sam?” Linc's voice somehow soothed her.
A smile played with her lips. The old nickname, the one she’d shed after high school, sounded appropriate coming from Linc, almost romantic. She opened her eyes and looked down at his hand on her arm.
“Do you want to check into your motel? What would you like to do? We can go straight to The Cage if you want.”
“I thought the restaurant’s name is The Lobster Cage.”
He glanced at her and grinned, showing off his deep dimples. “That’s what the sign says, but I’ve never heard it called anything but The Cage. It's more of a local hangout-bar-enjoy-the-spectacular-view sort of place, with indoor and open air seating, a full bar, and very good food.”
“I'd rather see where he lived, if you’re not too busy.” Her life had turned upside down in the span of a few weeks, and she hated feeling out of control. Maybe Linc could help stabilize it.
“Not too busy at all,” Linc said. “You have a key?”
“I do. They were inside the package that Mr. Davis sent me, along with a copy of the will, property deeds, and insurance papers.”
“Just know that I’ll keep digging into Charlie’s death. Something or somebody troubled him, and I want to know who and why.”
“Maybe you’ll find something at his house. Is it far?”
“It's about a forty-minute drive up the coast road, then east to Thousand Oaks.”
As they drove closer to the sea, the breeze whipping around the windshield made tiny prickles on her cheeks, the air cooled and smelled salty. For the first time since leaving the airport, she leaned forward and took in the scenery. A highway sign read Malibu, 27 Miles of Scenic Beauty.
“Oh. My. God.” She removed her sunglasses and stared in awe at the most amazing sight she’d ever seen. The Pacific Ocean.
Linc exited the highway, drove closer to the water, and then parked. Colors of every hue in the rainbow skirted a path to the ocean. The waves rolled into different shades of blues and washed onto the sand, followed by another and another. Her heart swelled in her chest at the beauty. Tears filled her eyes.
“You’re from Texas and have never seen an ocean?” Linc asked softly.
“I never strayed that far from home, never even went to Galveston. Maybe I should have.”
“It’s a site worth seeing. Beautiful isn’t it? She’s powerful and sensuous, dangerous and calming, all at the same time.”
Samantha didn’t respond. She was too caught up in the site in front of her. No wonder Charles loved living here. She turned and Linc caught her gaze and held it.
“How did you two become friends?”
A smile lifted the corners of his mouth, and his dimples winked. “It happened slowly over the past year. I met him right after I bought my condo and started rehab.” He flexed his left hand. “I lost a bit of motor control in my left arm after I had the crap beat out of me.”
“You were attacked?”
“Yeah.” A cloud formed behind his eyes. “I’m an FBI agent…I was working undercover in your home state when it happened.”
“I hope you didn’t blame Texas.”
“Not at all.” He shook his head and waved as if shooing a fly away. “It’s old news.”
“But you’re better?”
“Much.” He started the car, turned around, and drove back to the highway, exiting east on to a narrow canyon road that took the pair away from the ocean toward one of California’s busiest freeways.
“Okay.” She felt a lot better after learning that her new friend was a Fed. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. Bastard snuck up behind me and hit me. I landed on my belly, and he spent a while pounding on the side of my head. Let’s get back to Charlie.”
Linc had thrown up a wall around the subject. A tall and wide and deeply impenetrable wall, which she respected. “I will appreciate anything you can tell me about how you knew Charles.”
“People called him Charlie.” Linc waited until she nodded and then continued. “I discovered The Cage while I was running on the beach. I stopped in for a beer, and he was the first person to greet me and take my order. He didn’t have to, but he enjoyed being part of the restaurant team. We started talkin
g, first about nothing in particular, and then we discovered common ground through the Army. He was already fighting cancer, so the next thing I knew, I was helping him out on weekends.”
“And he told you about my grandmother?”
“Not in the beginning. I knew you existed because he talked about you a lot. About four months before he died, and after we’d knocked back a few beers, he confided that he’d never met you.” Linc blended in with the traffic on the freeway. “After that, he opened up a little on his Ruthie.”
Samantha was dumbstruck at the way he referred to her grandmother as Ruthie. It was casual, as if he knew her or at least knew a lot about her. Samantha’s questions about her own history grew by the minute.
A black SUV cut in front of them, interrupting her thoughts.
Linc slammed his foot on the brakes to avoid impact. The sports car’s rear end lost traction and they went into a spin. Life slipped into slow motion. Linc calmly turned the steering wheel into the direction of the slide, and as quickly as it started, the almost accident was over, and he had the car under control.
“Welcome to California.” He shoved away a lock of hair that had fallen on his forehead. “You okay?” He glanced at her.
She opened her mouth, but try as she might no words came out. Life had shifted to a new dimension. How else could she explain being in the car with a total stranger who'd just saved her life for the second time today? And he’d been vouched for by another complete stranger. It was so ridiculous, she laughed.
“I could do with less fanfare,” she patted her chest. “Y’all drive worse than we do.”
“Did you happen to notice the car that cut us off?”
She’d been lost in thought so she closed her eyes and replayed the incident in her head. “It was a black SUV, just like the one at the airport.”
Air whooshed from her lungs. Her heart, which had only just now begun to slow down, reacted by pounding against her ribcage. What had Charles Pearson gotten her into?
Exactly what secrets would this trip uncover? And who didn’t want her to know those secrets?
CHAPTER 2
Samantha’s heart finally calmed. The past hour had been extremely revealing. Had someone really tried to kill her twice in the past two hours? Or was it a coincidence?
She had hundreds of unasked questions, but held them inside, taking time to collect herself.
Twenty-five minutes later, Linc took the Thousand Oaks exit off the freeway and drove into an established neighborhood of two-story homes, well-manicured lawns, palm trees, and three-car garages. She picked out Charles Pearson’s place before Linc parked in the driveway. Unlike the other homes, the grass needed mowing, and shrubs needed trimming. The red brick ranch house looked lost and forlorn. And neglected. And deserted. And lonely.
Samantha’s hand shook as she unlocked and then pushed open the front door. She gasped, stepping back and bumping into Linc.
“What’s wrong?” For the second time today, his hands closed around her waist and pulled her to him.
“The place has been trashed.” Samantha pulled away, stepping inside the house.
An open gash crisscrossed a brown cloth couch and two matching chairs. The foam inside them had erupted, spewing bits and chunks onto the floor. A huge flat screen TV lay tumbled on its side and two end tables had been upended.
Two men stepped from the hall into the room. A tall man approached while a second guy stayed back and pointed a gun straight at her. Fear started at her toes, winding up to her backbone, squeezing its way to the back of her skull.
“Keep coming,” the tall man said.
“Don’t argue,” Linc whispered over his shoulder.
“What do you want?” she asked, ignoring Linc’s instructions.
“Now,” the man barked, glancing at the one holding the pistol. “If he gives you any shit, kill him.”
“Happy to.” The man smiled, showing yellowed teeth that gave him the look of a hungry badger.
Linc’s hand gripped her waist, pulled her to the left, and pushed her back toward the door. She resisted, realizing too late he was trying to save her. But by then, the tall intruder’s hand had gripped her arm, jerking her inside.
Linc lunged forward, hitting the gunman’s hand and knocking the weapon away. Samantha’s feet left the ground as the other guy shoved her across the room. She crashed into Linc, and they both went down with a thud.
“Let’s go.” One intruder grabbed the gun, and both men ran out the door.
“Linc,” she whispered his name and pushed herself upright. He didn’t respond, so Samantha rolled him over. Blood oozed from his hairline. He’d grazed his head on the corner of one of the upended tables. She cradled him in her arms. He’d saved her life and this was what he got for being a hero. “I have to call for help. Please don’t die.”
She’d left her purse in his car, so she patted Linc’s pockets, located his phone, and shoved her fingers in to retrieve the cell. He grabbed her wrist, she shrieked with surprise, and he chuckled.
“I’m not sure we know each other well enough for you to do that.” His gaze met hers. “I dialed 911 before we got through the door. The dispatcher should’ve heard every word and sent the police.” He sat up with a groan. “You might want to go outside. Let them know we’re the good guys.”
For the next few hours, the place hummed with activity. Patrol officers were all over the place. Samantha stayed with Linc, answering questions and watching until the EMT pronounced the superficial wound as minor.
Seeking quiet, she wandered to the backyard. She ventured onto a patio that led to sliding glass doors, and peered inside. A picture frame lay on the floor, indicating the rest of the house had been ransacked too. Through the shattered glass, she saw the newspaper clipping of herself as a child beside her mother accepting the Fireman of the Year award in her father’s name. Angry tears ran and seared her cheeks.
This secrecy was too much. Too much silence. Too much confusion.
Charles Pearson had mourned the loss of a son he never met? And now he was dead? Murdered? She felt as if one of the waves she’d seen crashing onto the shore had pulled her under.
Strong hands turned her around and gathered her close. Linc stroked her back, his touch powerful, yet soothing. His scent flooded her senses. She relaxed and gave in to frustration, clung to him and cried, resting her head against his chest until her emotions were drained.
“Shh. I can’t take much of that, Sam.” His warm breath brushed across her forehead.
“I’m sorry.” Again, she didn’t correct him. At this point, he could call her whatever he wanted. “I usually do a better job of keeping my feelings in check.” She tried to step away, but he held her firmly in his grasp. She leaned her head back and studied his eyes. “How's your headache?”
“It's not life threatening. And I think you've held it together pretty damn well.” Releasing her, Linc thumbed her cheeks dry. “You ready to come around front?”
He guided her back to the front yard and stayed with her until the cops were finished with them both. By the time the last patrol car drove away, her own questions were about to overflow.
“Want to tell me what you saw that made you cry?”
“I’m betting you’ve seen the framed article about my father inside.” She followed him to the faded lawn chairs on the porch and gladly sat.
“Yeah. I’ve seen quite a few of pictures of you too.” Linc turned his chair to face her. “This situation is enough to freak anybody out.”
“It’s damned creepy if you think about it.”
His stern expression softened, and the hard line of his jaw relaxed. “It’s not my intention to make things worse for you.
“You’ve been very kind, but I wish I could go home and forget this entire mess.”
“The easiest way to do that is to sign a few papers at the lawyer’s office and let somebody liquidate everything for you.”
“Originally, that would have been a workable p
lan, but in the few hours I’ve been here, I’m convinced that you are right and that Charles Pearson — uh, Charlie — was murdered. We have to get the police to open an investigation.”
“We need proof to make that happen.”
“Then I’ll get proof.” She stopped to clarify. “With your help.”
“You have that. I’m right about this.” Linc’s hand went up, raked through his hair, and bumped the knot on this head. “And I owe somebody for this.” His lips thinned into a grim, determined line. “You asked me why Charlie left you his estate. I honestly don’t know, nor do I know why he never contacted you. He talked about you all the time. But in fact, he was very secretive about his life — except for you and your grandmother. To hear him tell it, he was crazy about her.”
“He had a funny way of showing it.” Samantha clamped her mouth shut. “I’m sorry. Please go on.”
“Charlie said he came from a dirt-poor family. Your grandmother’s father called them heathens, and she was forbidden to see him.”
“Which must have made her want him even more,” she said, knowing her grandmother’s independent nature.
Linc chuckled. “Probably. She disappeared and nobody would tell him anything. He swore to me that he didn’t know about the pregnancy until years later.”
“You sound as if you feel sorry for him.” Samantha asked from the edge of anger.
“Not at all, and it’s the last thing he would have wanted. But it’s not my place to judge him.”
Unable to stand still, she walked across the barren yard. The dry grass snapped and crunched under her feet. The shrubs, leaves brown and drooping, reflected the lack of attention from their owner. One particularly bare plant sat off by itself. Its dull and lifeless leaves lay on the ground, but the stems reached high as if pleading the sky for rain.
A feeling of loneliness seeped into her heart as she tried to imagine her grandmother’s feeling of abandonment. She and Charlie must have suffered, not being allowed to see each other. Samantha couldn’t imagine her feisty, strong-willed grandmother not rebelling. But that had been a long time ago, back when teenagers probably didn’t rebel against their parents. Or did they? She sighed, dreading telling Nana that Charlie had been murdered. A woman from across the street waved and approached Linc, handing him two bottles of water. He held one up to Samantha. “Charlie’s neighbor sends her condolences.”
Till The Dead Speak (Killer Affections Book 2) Page 2
