Hunting Daylight (9781101619032) (23 page)

“What if she is? Would you still travel to Venice with
this
passport?” I tapped the document.

“Hell, yes.”

“Please don’t. I’ve got a bad feeling.”

“Caro, I haven’t known you long, but you strike me as the type who always has bad feelings. You’re confusing pessimism with voodoo mysticism. Nothing bad will happen. I’m going to Italy, and that’s that. If I were scared—or if I just didn’t want to do it—I wouldn’t be here.”

“That’s just it. Why are you putting yourself at risk?”

She slipped the passport into the bag. “I’m not doing this on a whim. Sure, at first I was trying to get cozy with Raphael. But he’s not into me. Besides, I feel really sorry for Vivi.”

I stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“No offense, but I had nice parents and a bad childhood. The kids at school bullied me. That’s what happens when a girl is different. I was leggy and matured early. I lived in a world of swamp rats. I’m talking about little old girls with stubby legs who wept if they grew taller than five-three. Where I grew up, petiteness was a religion.”

She paused, took a breath, and continued. “I’m drifting off the point here, but you need to understand why I’m doing what I’m doing. The decoy thing. See, my daddy was a repo man. Nobody ever tried to kill us, but we weren’t beloved. We were ostracized. Why, you would have thought my daddy was the executioner at Angola.”

I watched her face, trying to concentrate. She talked so fast, I had trouble keeping up.

“Your daughter is isolated,” she said. “If I can help Raphael catch the rat bastards who want to hurt y’all, then Vivi can be a regular kid. And you can get on with your life.”

“These people are worse than rat bastards, Gillian. They have no moral boundaries.”

“You’re not lookin’ ahead. In a few years Vivi will be looking at boys—maybe she already is. She needs normalcy.”

“And you’re probably thinking you can make a difference. But this can’t be fixed.”

“I have to try. Look, I’ll be honest. I’m not doing this totally for Vivi. There’s a hurt child inside of me, and I’m trying to fix her. Every time I help someone else, I kinda help me. So don’t try to talk me out of it.” She slapped my leg. “Before we get to work on my new look, we need to go over one more little thing.”

I was instantly wary. “How little?”

“He’s six foot one. Blond. Dark eyes. And his first name starts with an
R
.”

“What about him?” I crossed my arms.

“Raphael is in love with you.”

“No, he isn’t.”

“I’ve seen how he looks at you.”

I felt the heat rise to my face.

“See?” She pointed. “You’re blushing. Honey, that man is all under your skin. Don’t be a fool. Let him love you.”

“I can’t talk about this right now.”

“When would be a good time? You’ve been a widow how long? I bet you’ve got cobwebs up inside you.” She put her arms around me. “I know you lost the love of your life, but you’ve got to let him go.”

My face tightened. “Jude’s wedding ring was found on the hand of a man who’d been tortured and murdered.”

“I was shocked when Fielding told me. I’m so sorry.”

“Then you know why I’m not concerned about cobwebs.”

“If you don’t move on with your life, Vivi can’t move on with hers. What’s gonna happen when she’s eighteen? She’ll replace those razor-blade earrings with something really bad, like the unholy trio—sex, drugs, and alcohol. Aren’t you worried about that?”

“I just want to keep her alive. That’s why I’m concentrating all of my energy on her.”

“Honey, that’s the problem. You’re concentrating too darn much. Fielding says you’ve always focused on her. Oh, don’t get all huffy on me. No one’s saying you’re a bad mom. You were
too
good. So good, you haven’t noticed that she’s almost fourteen. The rules have changed. What you see as loving attention, Vivi sees as suffocation.”

Tears gathered behind my eyelids. Some part of me knew that Gillian was right, but I wasn’t ready to concede.

“You’re saying I’m worse than a momster. I’m an anaconda.”

“An anamomda?” Gillian said helpfully.

“If Jude were here, he’d know what to do with Vivi.”

I could see him so clearly, the man he would have been. He would be sitting at a desk, books and scientific
journals stacked around him, and he would toss Vivi the keys to his car. He’d say,
Drive carefully, Meep. And if the police stop you, run like bloody hell.

Gillian shook her head. “Your husband isn’t here. And Raphael doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who’ll sit on ice while you get your priorities in order. I’ve seen how he operates. When he gets it in his head to travel somewhere, he makes a few phone calls and takes off.”

I smiled. “True.”

“But you’re slow and methodical. You think you’ll fly apart at the seams if you fall in love with a reckless man. But he’s exactly what you need.”

“The timing couldn’t be worse.”

“Uh-huh. Like I said, when will be a good time?”

“When people aren’t dying.”

Gillian waved her hand. “If your problems went away, you’d think of a hundred more. And you want to know why? Because your heart was broken, and it hurt so goddamn bad. You’ll never open yourself to that kind of pain.”

I stared, awestruck. She stared back, her brown eyes gleaming with intelligence, as if she’d seen through my bullshit. “Are you sure you’re not psychic?” I asked.

She smiled. “A good lawyer understands human nature. I learned everything I know from Granny Delacroix. She used to say that you can’t control love any more than you can control a hen that’s laying an egg. It happens when it’s ready, not when you’re ready.” She lifted a bag. “Enough girl talk. Help me get ready for my trip.”

MATTERHORN GOTTHARD RAILWAY

TÄSCH, SWITZERLAND

An hour after sunset, Raphael carried his dog onto the red train that led to Zermatt. He walked past a group of Asian tourists, found an empty seat in the rear compartment, and lifted Arrapato onto his lap. Both of them stared out the window, watching the tracks fall off into darkness.

Raphael had never been to Switzerland in daylight, but he smelled the coldness blowing off the mountains. He’d chosen a circuitous route from Amsterdam, changing vehicles every two hundred kilometers, but he felt as if he’d forgotten something.

Arrapato looked up at him, ears trembling, and Raphael knew the dog wanted to bite him. “You’ve never been like this,” he said.

Arrapato looked away in disgust.

“I should have named you Diabolique,” Raphael whispered. “You scratched that bedroom door on purpose. You didn’t want me to make love to Caro.”

The dog glanced back and tilted his head.

“Just say it, Arrapato. You think I’m bad for her.”

The dog scraped his paw over his muzzle. Raphael imagined dozens of canine thoughts spinning up, curled like a watch spring.

“You think I’m a ladies’ man, don’t you?”

Arrapato gave him a contemptuous look.

Raphael shrugged. A vampire could be defined as blood and bone and testosterone—and stem cells. The term
man-whore
could apply to many. But not him. Not anymore. “I’ve reformed. You know this, Arrapato.”

Not that it mattered. He and Caro hadn’t spent more than two seconds alone since that sunny night in Longyearbyen, when he’d told her about Jude’s ring. He’d wanted to give her time to absorb the news, and to give himself a chance to control his emotions. He remembered how she’d stared up at him, her lips stained with her own blood, pewter lights shining through the blue in her eyes. An ache had spread through his loins. He’d wanted to climb on top of her, moving one inch at a time, sinking his weight on her thighs and breasts, feeling her warmth float away from her skin like sunlight on a peach.

She’d closed her mind before he could see how she’d really felt. Or maybe she’d felt nothing.

He bent closer to the dog. “I’m going to tell Caro how I feel. That I love her.”

Arrapato snorted, as if to say,
I double-dog dare you
.

MONT CERVIN PALACE

ZERMATT, SWITZERLAND

I’d calmed down by the time Arrapato and Raphael arrived that evening. Then Gillian and Fielding worked me over. They wanted to take Vivi shopping. “I’ve got it worked out,” Gillian said. “We’ll dress up like tourists and blend in.” She opened a bag, pulling out fanny packs, baseball caps, and baggy fleece shirts printed with the Swiss flag.

I finally relented.

Vivi couldn’t stop grinning. She flung her arms around me. “Later, Mom.”

Gillian punched my shoulder. “See? Wasn’t that easy?”

Raphael and I went downstairs to the restaurant. The dinner hour was winding down in the Grill le Cervin. We had the place to ourselves, except for three middle-aged women who were eating dessert.

A waiter led us over a red Persian rug, past empty tables where beige napkins were fanned out like starfish. An open grill stood at one end of the room, giving off the smell of charbroiled fish and beef. After we were seated, I kept rearranging the salt and pepper shakers.

“I feel safe in Zermatt,” I said, then shifted my fork an inch to the left.

“That makes one of us.”

I lifted the pepper shaker. “Will Vivi be all right with Gillian and Fielding?”

“Yes,” he said, watching my hands.

I put down the shaker.

A waiter in a crisp white shirt and a black vest took our orders—rare chateaubriand for Raphael, cress soup and grilled prawns for me.

Raphael leaned back in his chair. “We should come back at Christmas. The porter told me that lights are strung on the balconies and in the trees.”

I pushed my water glass directly over the tip of my knife. “I’m sure it’s lovely.”

“So are you.” He rose from his chair, leaned across the table, and kissed me. I was so surprised, I pursed my lips, as if I were about to take a breath before plunging into icy blue water. His tongue gently stroked mine. I was dimly aware of the amused murmurs from the middle-aged women. Then I felt him pull me into a dark place. His pulse was all around me, like a strummed violin. A shiver raced between my legs.

Oh, no
, I thought.
Not here.

Before I climaxed, Raphael broke the kiss and sat down. He smoothed his hand over the front of his shirt;
I could feel the middle-aged ladies watching. I breathed in and out. I was caught somewhere between extreme arousal and anger. I rearranged my spoon and knife.

Then I felt him inside my head. Mia cara,
look at me.

Dammit, why did you do that?

You know. Because of what happened in Longyearbyen. I can’t stop thinking about it. I can smell you on my hands. Your smell is inside me. I’m crazed. I thought…I thought if we were in a public place, I would keep my hands to myself.

I lifted my chin, narrowing my eyes for an instant.
But you didn’t.

Are you attracted to me at all,
mia cara?

You’re giving me a headache. Does the gift shop sell aspirin?

He made a sweeping gesture with his hand.
I’ll buy you a gift shop. I’ll buy you an aspirin factory.

We stared at each other. His lips twitched at the edges, as if he were trying not to smile. I couldn’t hold my mouth still, either. We burst into laughter.

His hand slid across the table, and he touched my fingers.
Let’s go upstairs,
mia cara.
Let’s start over again.

It was tempting. I couldn’t remember a time I’d been completely alone with Raphael, because we were always surrounded by chauffeurs, butlers, and guards. And Vivi had always been with us. When she was younger, she’d crawled all over us, begging to be tickled or tossed in the air.

I shook my head.

He sat straight up, and I heard my ears pop; I knew he’d gotten out of my mind. Thank God. I lifted my wineglass and took a long drink.

The waiter brought my soup. I arranged my napkin in my lap, taking my time, brushing my fingers over the rough linen, knowing that Raphael was watching. I wanted to do something naughty, but I looked Amish in my black sweater set. So I undid the top four buttons on my cardigan, then leaned over my soup bowl, giving him a full view of my cleavage.