Red Ochre Falls (5 page)

“Here, you look
hungry.”

“Sorry, I didn’t
get lunch and I have major truck envy.” I ate the first part of the granola
bar. He pointed to some water in the cup holders so I could wash it down.

“Hopefully, it’ll
tide you over until dinner.” He started the truck and we took off.

Dinner? Who said
anything about dinner? I would’ve been happy to get a snack bag of chips, and a
little chitchat about the weather. This ran dangerously close to actual date
territory. I got nervous so I devoured the rest of the granola bar and went
along for the ride.

When we got to the
batting cages, he directed me to an open one on the end.

“I like to be on
the end. It’s less distracting.”

“Huh. Me too.”

Although he brought
a shiny new bat out of his trunk when we arrived, he reached for mine.

“Do you mind?” he
asked permission.

“Go ahead.” I
shrugged and gave it to him. As he walked over to feed the machine, he handled
the bat almost with reverence.

“Not a lot of bats
like this around these days.”

“I know. Metal is
king, but it’s a little too shiny for me. Plus, metal bats just don’t sound the
same as wooden ones.”

“I know.” He turned
and smacked the crap out of the first ball that came out of the machine.

Impressive, I
thought. Let’s see if it was just a lucky shot.

He swung again. The
bat extended out, then up and over as he sent the next one flying. It was a
nice shot, too.

“Do you play?”

“Not for a long time.”
He popped the next one foul.

“Why not?”

“Just haven’t had
the time. Or the desire.”

“Yeah, I can
relate.”

He cracked another,
and another. Then he turned the bat toward me.

“Wanna try?”

“Sure,” I said. Not
sure how this would go, I started to get antsy. Once I had the bat, though,
things calmed.

“Just pretend it’s
your ex,” he joked.

I turned my head to
glare at him and missed the first ball. “Very funny.” I settled back in, more
determined than ever to whack the snot out of the next ones. Crack. Crack.
Crack. I hit them one after the other. Then started to pull my hips too much
and hit a couple fouls.

Garrett put his
hand up for me to stop and walked closer to me. “You probably know this
already,” he said, and put his hands at my hips. I gave him a death stare.

“Easy now.” Garrett
pulled his hands up then motioned to see if I would let him put them back. I
didn’t think I needed a baseball lesson, but it felt nice having him try. I
gave him the okay nod. “You’re trying too hard. Relax and wait just a second
more before you swing.” He was right. My body was tight and it messed up my
swing. But, was he really talking about batting, or was it something more? I
wondered.

I tried to remain
calm, but Garrett used his hands to steer me through a slow-mo swing. He looked
and smelled so good I almost dropped the bat. He pushed my arms into position
and slowly moved his hands back down to my hips. So much for food, talk, and
nothing more. This felt thrilling and dangerous. I needed to get a grip. Only,
he did it for me. He backed away and motioned for me to swing again. “Go on.”

Another ball went
by as I regained my composure. I listened for the whirring sound and then the
thump as the machine launched the ball. This time I was ready and hit it right
on the sweet spot. Much better.

We traded off a
couple more times before we left.

“Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.” I
really could eat.
 

“I feel like
Italian. How about you?”

Boca is known for
really good food, and I was seriously hungry after our workout. But, I barely
had twenty dollars to my name, and really good food costs money. So, I wasn’t
sure if I should say yes, but I really didn’t want him to leave.

“Sounds great.” I’d
either eat breadsticks, or forgo food for a while to afford dinner. It didn’t matter.
I just wanted to find out more about him.

We talked about the
day’s events and ate a good meal. He seemed interested to know more about Chloe
and Tab, and had a few words about Derek showing up out of the blue. I got the
distinct impression he and Derek had a problem with each other, not sure what
the problem was, but it may be part of the rivalry Garrett’s dad, Hank,
mentioned when we met. I would’ve prodded, because it’s my nature, but he was
already doing me a favor helping me unwind and paying for dinner—he told
me during our early dinner we’d also stop by and check on my car, which was
still downtown, probably racking up parking tickets.

The city started to
glow from sunset and evening lights when we got to the contraption I called
transportation. He parked behind it then held is hand out for the keys. I
obliged since they were on the ring with my house keys, and wished him good
luck because he was going to need it.

We exited the
perfectly polished truck. I stood next to the decaying car as Garrett got
inside and turned on the ignition. It made a feral noise, like it might start,
but then stopped. It wouldn’t even turn over on his second attempt. He shook
his head, then patted the dash and pulled the keys out. We went back to the
truck and climbed inside.

“What?” I tried to
sound defensive, but it was hard to sound tough when he looked at me like that.
“I know it’s not the most stylish, but at least it’s paid off.”

“I didn’t say
anything,” he defended.

“You didn’t have
to. I’ve seen your gorgeous cars. The Maserati you drive to work, and now this
new Ram.”

“You noticed that,
huh?”

“Hard not to
notice.” And it’s not just the cars, it’s you. I thought to myself. You’re a
hard guy to miss. I had no idea if it was only in my head, or if he’d really
set his sights on me, but the way he acted had me excited and anxious. Why
couldn’t I keep things straight when he was around?

“Good. Now that
we’ve established you noticed the cars. What do you think about the guy?”

Gulp! This guy was
direct.
Um, where to begin? Your charm and wit, your gorgeous eyes, or maybe
it’s your superhero biceps?
I went to la-la land for a minute as I
contemplated his good qualities.

“Speechless is
good, right?”

“Most of the time,”
I blurted. My smart aleck comment made me feel a like I’d regained some
self-control. Only, it didn’t take long for his warm scent and blue eyes to
distract me again. I exhaled long and slow. Self-control around him was
difficult to maintain.

“Oh, is that so?”
He raised an eyebrow at me. I tried to be calm, but shifted in my seat instead.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I was just having some fun,” he
said.

What was I supposed
to say now? Seriously?! Whatever I hoped we might talk about, or do, appears to
just be playful banter. The conversation circled back to my crappy car, and my
desperate need for working wheels.

“While it may not
be your favorite car, it does run, although not right now.”

I felt a little
embarrassed.
Oh well, what can you do?

“I can recommend a
good mechanic. You should have the engine checked. Hondas are generally
reliable, but I think this old model had transmission or ignition problems, and
there could be a fix.”

“Great,” I said
half-heartedly when I really just wanted to cry. We didn’t have money to fix
problems, especially not big ones, like a transmission. And how would I pay to
get that hunk of junk hauled away? He picked up on my anxiety—it was kind
of hard to miss.

“Don’t worry about
the cost of the tow, or the work. This particular mechanic owes me a favor.”

“Is there anything
I need to know? Like, is this some kind of a Godfather thing?”

 
“No, it’s not some Godfather thing.” He
leaned closer and used his husky voice. “But you will owe me a favor.”

Yikes! It was a
Godfather thing. I wasn’t sure this was a good idea. I had a really hard time
knowing whether to run, or stay and pull him closer. The look in his eyes
warned me I was playing with fire—the dangerous, seductive kind—and
already in way over my head.

“Okay,” my voice
crackled. I thought it over, and then in my best South Jersey accent said, “You
want I should whack somebody for you?”

He laughed at my
attempt at humor. “Unh-unh. Nope.” Garrett waggled his finger at me. “The favor
comes later, and it’ll be a something you can’t refuse.” He finished the last
part in his best Brando Godfather voice.

My phone buzzed. I
figured it was mom, probably worried about what we might be doing for so long.
I’d kept her in the loop up until we stopped for the car, but got busy
wondering what a brave woman would do with this hunk of a man sitting beside
her. I’m usually much stronger, and more in control when it comes to feelings.
Okay, so I cried to chick-flicks, and anything involving animals and kids, but
I sort of felt like a tough girl. Not totally hardened, but picky when it came
to my time and my heart. Maybe it was just the way I’d insulated myself over
the years—hurt has a funny way of working on people like me. Instead of
being logical when it came to our situation, and remaining friends in light of
the fact he was one of our employer landlords, I struggled against the desire
for more. The way he acted made me think he might have felt a similar conflict.

When I checked the
display, it was Chloe’s mom. Did they not talk? I thought my previous message
to Chloe was clear: Call Your Mom!

“Excuse me, it’s my
friend’s mom and I really should take this call,” I told Garrett
apologetically.

I started the call
upbeat, and slightly perturbed, but felt heavy with guilt when Mrs. Ellis mom
broke down. “She’s gone. Chloe’s dead.”

At first, I
couldn’t believe it—we’d talked just a few days ago, and were supposed to
meet up to discuss her case. Mrs. Ellis said she was dead. Suicide, the coroner
had ruled.

There was no way, I
thought. Chloe told me once she’d dreamt her whole life of becoming a judge.
Chloe had so much going for her as an up-and-comer in the legal
world—working on a big gambling case, being heard by the State Supreme
Court. The case would have bolstered her career and put her on a fast track to the
bench.
Why would she kill herself before it was even heard?
No way she’d
miss the opportunity of a lifetime. She didn’t commit suicide. Chloe’s mom
didn’t think her daughter had either.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs.
Ellis, so sorry to hear about Chloe. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,
Mattie. I want to get a second opinion, but don’t know if I should.”

“Maybe I can help.”

“Doing what, dear?”

Garrett sat
patiently, absorbing at least the half of the conversation.

“Well, mom and I
work at a funeral home now,” I admitted, and blushed even though she couldn’t
see it through the phone. Then my eyes went to Garrett and back to the dash.

“I know a guy in
the business who may be able to help.” I waited for her response.

“Do you think he’d
look into it?”

“I trust him to
find out what really happened to Chloe.” At least I hoped so. I looked at
Garrett and he politely signaled me to hand over the phone, so I did. I blew
out a breath and waited for them to discuss the next steps.

“It would be best.
If you released the body to our funeral home, so I could take a closer look. We
don’t want whoever may be behind this to know we’re investigating.”

This scared me. It
all seemed too real, and wrong. I had no idea what really happened. But, we
intended to find out.

“I’ll do whatever I
can to help you, Mrs. Ellis. I’m very sorry for your loss,” Garrett told her
sincerely. He handed me the phone and waited for me to finish.

“Thanks Mattie, but
please be careful. I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you or that nice
young man because you helped me.”

“Mrs. E., I promise
we’ll do whatever we can to figure out what happened to Chloe. Once we know
more, we’ll call you. Just hang in there.” I disconnected and quiet shock took
over for a few moments. My breakdown would have to wait. Could Chloe have
killed herself? If she didn’t, then she was murdered. That made everything much
worse. Who would kill her and why? Could it have been a colleague, or even Tab?
My head spun.

Garrett knew about
Chloe and Tab’s rocky relationship. I’d told him about it after our run-in with
Tab the other night. It made sense to fill him in on the rest. I told him about
Chloe’s call to me for help on a case; her mom’s call for help getting in touch
with Chloe; and how odd it all seemed for them to contact me considering we
hadn’t kept in touch much after I left school.
 

He listened
intently then drove back to the funeral home. We’d both been lost in our own
thoughts on the ride home until he pulled in a parking spot near the garage
doors.