by Greta Boris
“Now.” Davy laid an arm over the back of the sofa and crossed a foot over a knee. “Tell me what’s been going on.”
Olivia looked at the ceiling and inhaled again. Stay calm. Be sensitive. Be compassionate. She repeated the mantra under her breath. “Stop. I understand why you did it, but we can’t move on until we’re honest with each other.”
“I know you think I know what you’re talking about. I know you think I’m behind whatever has been happening to you, but I don’t and I’m not. How can I convince you?”
The doubt that had crept into her mind earlier, came galloping back. He looked genuinely concerned. But Davy always looked genuinely concerned. It was one of his secret weapons.
Whenever there were stormy seas he became a lighthouse. He drew his brows together, furrowed his forehead and sent his blinding blue gaze into the darkness. People flocked to the light. But Olivia had been shipwrecked on that shore in the past.
“Why do we have to do this?” she said.
Davy’s eyes darkened. He rose from the couch and walked across the room. “I deserve this. I do. The past four or five years, I’ve been an idiot, an absolute idiot. But I swear to you, I’ve turned a corner. I changed.” He put up one hand like a traffic cop. “Not perfect. I still screw things up, but you have to believe I wouldn’t stalk you, terrorize you.” His hand moved to his head and he ran it through his hair. “Never. Not you. Not Brian.”
Olivia knew the shadows and shades of Davy. The way his left eyelid twitched when he was irritated. The way his eyes opened a little too wide when he wasn’t being completely truthful. And the way he tugged at his hair when he was distraught. He was distraught now.
She stood, walked to her tote bag and brought it over. She dumped it on the coffee table and pawed through the contents until she found her journal and the newspaper stories inside it. She handed them to Davy.
As confusion transformed his face, her suspicions began to deflate. When he finished, he laid the clippings in his lap and looked at her. “What does this mean?”
“I was hoping you could tell me. Someone left them on my windshield.”
“You said someone was following you.”
“I think so, yes.”
“I’m in the dark here. You better start at the beginning. Tell me everything that’s happened.”
Olivia told him about the nights she was followed, the graffiti on the bathroom stall, and the latest newspaper clipping she’d found. His dawning expression of horror finally convinced her he wasn’t guilty of the events she’d described.
“Where’s the last one?” he asked.
“In the trash. I’ll get it.” Olivia went into the kitchen and returned with the torn page. “There’s something else I didn’t tell you.” She gestured at the papers. “Tom lived in each of those places at the times the accidents occurred. He lived in Boise and worked at the school the first boy went to.” Davy leaned forward and opened his mouth to speak, but Olivia raised a hand to quiet him. “Before you jump to conclusions, he did live in Phoenix when the second boy died, but he had no connection to him.”
“How do you know?”
“He worked at a different school, a school across town.”
“That doesn’t mean he didn’t know the boy,” Davy said.
“It doesn’t mean he did.”
“You’d think if someone was trying to build a case against him, they’d provide the connection. The lack of detail almost makes it more believable to me.”
“Or more random,” Olivia said.
“But they gave you a third story. San Juan Capistrano is a small town. I’ll bet Tom knew this boy.” Davy rapped the article with his knuckles.
“But he was only a kid at the time—twelve or thirteen.” Davy shrugged. Olivia grew more insistent. “I think someone is trying to make me afraid of Tom, so I’ll stop seeing him.”
“And I’m the only one with a motive.” Davy said in a resigned tone.
“As far as I—”
“But I didn’t do any of this.”
“I don’t know why, but I believe you. Which means I’m at square one.” Olivia slumped into her chair, despair and anger vying for top emotion. “I was convinced it was Proctor. But he wasn’t in town when this one was delivered.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Olivia looked into Davy’s eyes. “No. No, I guess I’m not sure. I just assumed...”
“Let me take these to my dad. He can call in a favor and find out where Proctor was. He can also find out things that never made it into the papers about these accidents. Things that might shed some light on this.”
“Maybe.” Olivia felt the tension in her shoulders that she’d been carrying all day release a little. “Fiona was sure the articles were about Tom because of the locations of the accidents, but I don’t want him dragged into this.”
“It’s possible they are about Tom. Maybe he’s guilty of something. Maybe he’s an innocent victim. Maybe somebody has a crazy vendetta against him. At this point, you have no idea what’s happening here.”
Innocent victim, the words rang with sudden clarity. Olivia sat up straighter. “I’ve been so focused on Brian, on us, I didn’t stop to think it could be someone from Tom’s past. It could be an old girlfriend, a woman scorned.”
One side of Davy’s mouth went up in a doubtful smile. “Anything is possible.”
“No, think about it. It makes sense. Someone doesn’t want Tom and me together. I assumed it was you, for obvious reasons, but it could just as easily be someone Tom knows.”
“Or it could be someone trying to warn you about Tom because they’re concerned for Brian’s sake.”
“Then why not ask me out for coffee and talk to me? Why all the subterfuge?”
“Maybe the person is afraid of him, doesn’t want him to find out he or she is involved.”
Olivia dismissed that notion with a wave of her hand. “Tom is a gentle person.” But as the words left her lips, Nanette’s statement played through her mind: If there’s even a whiff of suspicion a child is in danger, the court must err on the side of safety. Olivia had to work with Davy on this. If he felt she wasn’t taking every possible action to keep their son safe, he’d be within his rights to take him from her.
“Okay,” she said. “Talk to Mike, but please, ask him to keep it on the QT. I don’t want it to get back to Tom. I don’t want him to feel like I’m investigating him.”
“Can I take these?” Davy held up the articles. She agreed. “Promise me you’ll stay away from the guy until we figure all this out, okay?”
Olivia smiled, but she didn’t promise.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“YOU’LL HAVE FUN.” Olivia poured a large spoonful of Sage’s tincture into a glass of orange juice and put it in front of her son.
“I’d rather go to Dad’s.” Brian’s mouth tightened into a thin line.
“Your dad has to work tonight. He’s picking you up tomorrow morning.” Olivia ran hot water into the kitchen sink.
Brian took a half-hearted bite out of his peanut butter toast and tossed it onto the plate. “Why can’t you come too?” He spoke around the food in his cheek, words sounding thick.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Olivia scrubbed the remains of their breakfast from a frying pan. How could she explain it to Brian so he’d understand? “Tom wants to spend time with you. He wants to get to know you better.”
Brian washed his food down with a sip of juice. “He knows me.”
“All you guys ever do together is school stuff. He wants to do something fun with you.” She opened the dishwasher and began loading it.
“I’d have more fun if you were there.” Brian put an elbow on the table and dropped his head onto his hand like it was too heavy to hold up without help.
His reluctance to go to the horse show with Tom weighed on Olivia. She didn’t know how to change his attitude. She didn’t tell him until that morning, the day of the event, so he hadn’t had m
uch time to adjust to the idea. She hadn’t wanted to bring it up in front of Davy the night before, and by the time he left, Brian was sound asleep. It was better if Davy didn’t know about it until after the fact. It was always easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.
She dried her hands on a dishtowel, crossed to the counter where Brian sat and rested her cheek on the top of his head. His hair smelled like fruit shampoo and peanuts. Maternal love gripped her heart. He was her joy, her pain, her reason for going on when she wanted to give up. She hated making him unhappy, but sometimes it was necessary.
Olivia wasn’t sure Tom was the right man for her. Not yet. But she did know growing up without a father had made her vulnerable. She wanted a father’s protective presence for her son. Yes, Brian had Davy, but Davy wasn’t around all the time. He didn’t drop Brian off at school in the morning or pick him up in the afternoons. He didn’t have dinner with him every night, or sleep in the same house. He wasn’t there to comfort Brian when he was awakened by a nightmare at three in the morning. Tom wanted to be there. She ought to give him a chance.
“I think you’ll like Calavia,” Olivia said.
“What do they do there?”
“Well, there’s acrobats and horses.”
Brian lifted his head and looked at her. “Any dogs?”
“I don’t think so. There are people who balance on horses while they’re galloping around the ring, though. And there’s music and lights and I think the horses dance.”
Brian gave her a disbelieving smile. “Horses can’t dance.”
“They don’t do ballet or anything, but they can do some pretty fancy steps.”
“You’re not making that up?”
“Would I do that?” Olivia widened her eyes.
He wiped a hand under his nose. “Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“Okay, I’ll go.”
“Good. Now finish your toast. You don’t want to be late for school.”
***
“Hello,” Olivia answered her cell.
“Where are you?” It was Davy. His words were rushed.
“At work. Why?” His tone made the skin on her arms tingle with anxiety. Not that it took much to stress her out today. She’d been so restless after Tom and Brian left for Calavia, she’d decided to go into the Fishbowl and lose herself in work.
“Stay there. I’m coming to talk to you.”
“But—” she said into a dead phone.
By the time he arrived the sun was beginning to set, turning the light in the Fishbowl a lovely rose color she wasn’t able to appreciate. As soon as she heard his footsteps on the outside landing, she shut off her computer and picked up her purse. “I thought you were working late?”
“I didn’t think this news should wait until tomorrow,” Davy said. “Where’s Brian?”
“At Calavia.” She told as much of the truth as she was comfortable telling.
“Calavia?” Surprise registered on his face. “Those are pretty expensive tickets. Who did he go with?” Olivia hesitated, and before she answered, he said, “It doesn’t matter. I need to talk to you.”
“News from your dad?” She swung her purse over her shoulder.
Davy nodded. “Let’s go get coffee in the harbor.”
He followed her out and paced the landing while she locked the front door and set the alarm code. They exited the building in the opposite direction than she usually took. Here the stairs dropped into an alley which opened onto a side street that led to the Dana Point Harbor. It wasn’t far, but Olivia was glad for even a short walk. She needed to move.
“What did he say?” she said.
“First, let me tell you what I found out. I did some research of my own. The boy who died in 1992 in San Juan was hit by a train.”
“God.” Olivia’s hand flew to her chest. “How awful.” She’d thought it strange that the Travers boy had a closed casket service in a Catholic church. In her experience, Catholics had viewings before the actual funeral mass and kept the body on display until it was time for the burial. A train would explain the departure from tradition. She wondered if it was a game of chicken gone wrong and shuddered. She was afraid to ask the next question. “How did it happen?”
“Sounds like he had a bike accident and somehow ended up unconscious on the tracks.”
“Tom couldn’t have had anything to do with that,” she said with relief.
Davy shrugged. “Now for Dad’s news. The bad first. I guess it’s bad. According to his airline reservation and credit card, Proctor was in Massachusetts when that last paper showed up on your windshield.”
Olivia didn’t react. The hope Proctor was the behind the messages had been such a small flame, she hardly noticed when it was snuffed out.
“Then Dad contacted a friend who moved to Boise when he retired from the Orange County Sheriff’s Department. It took some time, but that guy was able to find out who handled the paperwork on Peter Compton. They never had an official investigation. The coroner ruled it accidental, so it fell off their radar pretty quickly.”
Olivia and Davy caught up to a young couple they’d been trailing at the corner of Coast Highway. They stopped talking while they waited for the traffic light to change. When it turned green, the couple bounced off the sidewalk ahead of them, and Davy picked up his story.
“This guy says there were no suspects, because nothing about the accident seemed suspicious. He did say the mother, Anne Compton, was dating a man named John, or Don, or Tom. He couldn’t remember which.”
“The Boise cop also talked to the school. They confirmed that Tom had worked there during the time Peter attended, but they didn’t know if Peter was in any of Tom’s classes. The records didn’t go back that far.”
They crossed Harbor Drive without waiting for a signal and headed for the coffee shop near the docks. “So nothing we didn’t already know,” Olivia said.
“Except that Peter’s mother may have been dating Tom.”
“Or John, or Don.”
Olivia was surprised to see there was a line at the coffee shop after the sun set. Happy hour was the happening thing to do on a Friday night. After they got their coffees, they settled at a table on a patio illuminated by twinkling lights.
“The news from Phoenix was more interesting,” Davy said.
Olivia’s pulse quickened. She wished she had a glass of wine instead of coffee, but she wasn’t about to tempt Davy. “Yeah?”
“Dad knows a couple of guys on the force there—transfers. You know Trevor Johnson’s mother filed a lawsuit against that father-son backpacking club?” Olivia nodded. “Dad was able to pull the transcripts, and you’ll never guess who testified.”
“Not Tom.” Her hand shook. Hot coffee slopped over the side of her cup. She set it down and dried her hand with a napkin, the pain from the burn barely registering.
“Yes, Tom. Apparently, he was one of the adult chaperones on the camping trip.”
“I thought it was a father-son thing.”
“It was.” Davy’s eyes locked on hers. “He was standing in as Trevor’s dad. He’d been dating the boy’s mother.”
The metallic clank of rigging against masts, the slap of sails, and the keening of gulls were all Olivia heard for several long moments. A cold wind whipped up, and she shivered. Davy’s warm hand covered hers. “I know. This is upsetting. You like Tom; I get it. But there’s something weird going on here. You need to stay away from him until we figure it out. Keep Brian away.”
“Oh, God.” She dropped her head in her hands.
“It’s a good thing we found out before you got more involved with him.” Davy’s voice was soothing. “Nothing is conclusive, but it’s pretty suspicious. Dad is going to keep looking into Tom’s history. We won’t take anything to Art until we have solid facts.”
“Art?” She didn’t understand. Her brain was still reeling from the new information.
“Art Bishop, the principal at St. Barnabas.”
“I know who Art is.” She closed her eyes in frustration. Why were they talking about Art when Brian could be in danger?
“I know you don’t like it, but we will need to inform the school. We’ll do it discreetly. It’ll be okay.” Davy smiled at her over the rim of his coffee cup.
He thought her pride was bruised. He thought she was embarrassed she’d been taken in by Tom. “No. You don’t understand.” She almost shouted the words. “Brian is with Tom. Now. He’s the one who took him to see Calavia.”
“What?” Davy pushed away his chair like he’d been shoved.
“Tom said he wanted to do something fun with Brian, something that wasn’t math.” The look of horror on Davy’s face hit her like a punch. “I trusted him. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“I asked you... How could you...”
“Davy, please. I’m sorry.” Her voice broke.
He stared at the table for a moment, his body rigid. “When are they supposed to be back?”
“Not until eight-ish. They’re going out to eat after the show.”
Davy looked at his watch. “Let’s call.”
Olivia had already pulled out her phone and hit Brian’s number on her speed dial. It rang five times and went to his mailbox. She forced a cheerful note into her voice. “Hi, honey, call me when you get a chance. I want to hear all about the show.”
“Tom. Call Tom,” Davy said as soon as she put her phone down.
“What do I say?”
“Tell him you forgot I was supposed to take Brian out for dinner. He has to get back.”
“I can’t say that. I already told him you were working.”
“Tell him I canceled. Tell him it’s a special occasion. Tell him it’s my birthday.”
“He knows your birthday is in June.”
Davy slammed a hand on the table top. “Tell him it’s my dad’s birthday, or Crackers’s birthday. I don’t care what you tell him. Get my son away from him, now.” A couple at the next table stood, cleared their coffee things, and left, looking at Davy over their shoulders.
Olivia punched in Tom’s number with nervous fingers. His phone rang six times and went to voice mail. She shook her head at Davy.
