Reunion (11 page)

Back at work a day early from her vacation, Patti
sat at the duty desk in the cavernous lobby of the main ranger operations
building and wondered what in the hell she was thinking. The sixty-year-old cinder
block construction was, in her opinion, a lesson in how the NPS preservation
mission could go horribly wrong. Sure, there was a good reason to ensure there
were prime examples of the post World War II Mission 66 re-building program in
national parks. Especially the visitor's centers. A generation of Americans
identified family vacations with the “modern” style of the boxy buildings
placed prominently in many of the nation's parks and battlefields.

The Grand Canyon example wasn't prime, and nowadays,
it was more than a mile away from where the new visitor center had been located
several years ago. Currently, the space beyond the lobby was divided into a
warren of offices and cubicles, with inadequate lighting, climate control, and
wiring so old you ran your computer at your own risk. And don't get her started
on the frequency of calls to the IT department to report network failures.

In truth, Patti rarely spent much time in the
headquarters building. Although she'd worked at the park for years, she'd held
several positions, ranging from law enforcement to EMT, and none of which
required her to fill an entry-level position waiting at a counter for the
random lost tourist to wander inside. Unfortunately, according to the freshly
printed work schedule, she would be sitting here for the foreseeable future.

The variety of jobs she’d held seemed to be
causing some consternation between the Sedona sheriff and prosecutor and her
immediate supervisors. Always on the lookout for a cause, after twenty-four
hours of bureaucratic vacillation, the labor union, and several special
interest groups started to contact her, willing to intervene on her behalf. The
crazy thing was, they all seemed to agree that she had pulled her weapon and
fired in a clear case of self-defense, but until all of the big dogs quit their
public posturing, she was assigned to sit at a desk largely out of the public
eye.

One of the problems with spending all this time
indoors was that it left her with nothing to do and too much time for thinking.
Not that she didn't normally think…but she never had this much uninterrupted
time to think about the sorry fucking state of her life.

Just as the pity party was set to take off, the
glass front doors opened and Patti heaved a quiet sigh before plastering a
smile to her face. Regardless of her spirits, she was the consummate professional.
The visitors to a national park were sacrosanct and she'd never forgive herself
if her own foul mood diminished anyone's special day at the park.

“Hey, Red, why so blue?” The familiar voice
brushed back the threads of her depression.

“Gabe? What the…heck? Oh, honey, it's so good to
see you.” She ran from behind the desk and he scooped her into his arms and
spun her around before setting her back on her feet. Behind her a door snicked
quietly closed. She glanced over and saw Marjorie Whitehorse grinning at her.

“Hey, Patti, I was just coming to relieve you for
lunch, but if you want the afternoon, it's okay by me.”

She glanced at Gabe, and he nodded. “I've got some
time, I was on my way to the club from the lake house, thought I'd stop by.”
She laughed, delighted at the outrageous lie—since the lake in question was
three hours south.

“Sure, Marj, thanks. See you tomorrow.” Before
anyone could come chasing after her to tell her differently, Patti snatched her
flat hat from the coat rack near the door and hustled Gabe outside. Twenty
minutes later they sat at a small table, enjoying the most spectacular view on
earth.

After placing their order, Gabe took one of
Patti's hands, tugging slightly as he forced her to look up at him.

“As good as the view is”—Gabe jerked his head
toward the window, but his gaze never left her face—“it’s not why I drove all
this way. I want to know how you're doing, Red. You’re pale with dark circles
under your eyes. I’m betting you’re not sleeping. Tell me what's going on?”

“Sheesh, who said doctors don't still make house
calls? Are you treating Annie? Is she okay?” Patti asked. It wasn't only a ruse
to take the focus from her; she really needed to know how the little girl was
coping. In the aftermath of the shooting, Patti had heard the child's
hysterical screams coming from the bedroom, but had been unable to go to her.
Patti had been
invited
downtown to answer questions before Kendrick's
body had even been removed. It had been daylight before she was free to leave,
but by then Grant and Annie had been packed up and whisked away by Enwright's
people.

Gabe dropped her hand, picked up his glass of iced
tea, and then leaned back in his chair. Waiting. She was usually so much better
at that game than he was. Unable to meet his gaze, she tried tapping her
fingers on her glass, then restlessly fiddled with the spoon. Finally, she
looked up and smiled.

“You win. Bastard,” Patti whispered, her voice
full of affection.

“Well, yes, but you already knew that. I'll answer
your question, once you answer mine, honey.”

Patti nodded. Fair was fair, and Gabe had driven
all the way up from Phoenix to check on her. “You’re right, I'm not sleeping
well. I've had some nightmares, my appetite is sketchy at best. The situation
at work is weird because no one can decide if they should treat this as an
officer involved shooting—with all the accompanying support and counseling or
like an accident I was involved in while on vacation. Meaning, they hope my
insurance covers it.” Patti wound to a stop.

Neither of them spoke, and she knew Gabe was
letting her process her feelings about the shooting. Patti stared into the
amber depths of her glass of tea. With a sigh, she tried to put her feelings
into words that would make sense.

“Mostly, I don't care what work decides. I don’t
care what the prosecutor decides. I did the right thing. I know that. Sitting
at a desk instead of heading into the canyon is killing me. Not talking to
Grant or RJ is killing me. Leaving Annie without so much as a goodbye hug is
killing me. And I think maybe staying in this job is killing me, too.”

The sting of tears was an unwelcome surprise. She
wasn't a crier. Never had been. So why was this mess leaving her teetering on
the edge of a sobbing breakdown?

Before Gabe could reply, the server interrupted
the moment by setting their sandwiches on the table, refilling their drinks,
then hurrying off to the next table.

“This looks delicious,” Gabe said. “Let's eat.”

Patti raised a brow. “Eat? You force me to bare my
soul? Admit things I didn't even know I felt? And now you want to eat?”

“Yep. Doctor's orders,” he said, then took a bite
of his sandwich.

Tempted to throw her food at her infuriating
friend, Patti took a giant bite of her sandwich in order to block the scream
threatening to escape. Glaring at Gabe, she chewed then swallowed, barely
tasting the smoked brisket. He said nothing, just kept eating, a half-smile
curving the corner of his mouth as he chewed. She took another bite. Then
another. At some point, she realized she was no longer looking at Gabe but
focused entirely on her plate.

“Damn, this is good,” she mumbled around another mouthful.

When the waiter returned with a giant portion of
the restaurant’s famous seven-layer chocolate cake, along with two forks and
two cups of coffee, Patti couldn't decide if she wanted to kiss the server or
Gabe, so she focused on the decadent treat instead. When she'd down a full
third, she dropped her fork onto the plate with a clatter.

“Ugh…I ate too much.” She picked up her coffee and
sipped the strong brew. With a deep satisfied breath she sat back and met
Gabe's gaze across the table. “Thank you.”

“Just returning the favor, Red. It wasn't that
long ago that we sat in that bar over there”—he jerked his thumb over his
shoulder—“and you pulled me out of the bottle. You saved my life that night and
set me on the path back to Diane and Uriah. I won't ever forget.”

With a quick nod of acknowledgement, Patti
swallowed hard, then got to the truth of what was breaking her heart. “I don't
think it's going to happen for us, Gabe. Uriah and Di…they wanted you. They
loved you and just needed you to see the truth. I think maybe…” Patti stopped
to clear her throat. There wasn't another person alive she would say this to,
but maybe if she said it out loud, she'd be able to move on with her life.

“RJ always craved a normal life. He grew up dirt
poor and pretty ashamed of his background. His dad mostly followed the lettuce
crop, picking up other odd jobs, while his mom cleaned motel rooms and houses.
He always wanted something more…normal. Something he could brag about at the
office. You know, the wife, kids, and picket fence. He never believed a
long-term ménage was possible. Even a permanent relationship with another man
was too far outside his comfort zone. I'd really hoped that, after all this
time, our reunion might give us the fresh start we needed. But here Grant
already had a daughter. That was something we hadn’t expected. And RJ?” She
smiled at the many memories of RJ and Annie.

“Last weekend, I think RJ finally came to terms
with his feelings for Grant. And Grant and Annie both love him so very much. I
think…a threesome lifestyle can be hard. You know that better than most. I
would rather the three of them be happy together, make their family. That poor
girl has been through just too much in her short life to add any more drama.”

Gabe picked up his coffee and watched her over the
rim while he sipped. His eyes were narrow, sharp lines fanning back from the
corners. He would tell her what he was thinking soon enough, but she felt the
need to brace herself, because she could sense the storm brewing within her old
friend. It didn't really matter what he said—she'd made the right decision for
everybody. It was time for Grant and RJ to move on together—and for Patti to
accept it herself.

Without a word, Gabe set the cup down on the table
and signaled for the check. He reached for his wallet and slid his credit card
into the leather folder as soon as their waiter arrived.

The suspense was killing her. “Aren't you going to
say anything?”

“Me? No, it sounds like your mind is made up. Far
be it from me to try to change your decision. You ready?” Patti blinked,
feeling like she must have missed something.

“Uhm…wait! You never answered my question about
Annie.”

“Oh, sorry. Since I'm her physician, there's only
so much I can tell to non-family members, but she's reacting as you might
expect after two traumatic events occurring so close together. Grant is doing
his best, but, as you can imagine, it's a bit of a struggle by himself. I think
he's pretty well exhausted, too.”

“What? What happened? Why isn't RJ with them? Oh
my God, is he okay?”

“RJ? I think the phrase 'as well as can be
expected' applies to him as well. I saw him, briefly, yesterday. Enwright
Security is working to arrange some post event counseling; however, he's not
sure how much longer he's going to remain in the valley.” Gabe stood to accept
the folder, signed the check, and returned his credit card to his wallet.

Pushing her chair back, Patti stood and moved
close enough to whisper into Gabe's ear. “You are a goddamn sonofabitch.”

Nodding, he said. “I am. Now do you want to take a
walk along the rim and discuss how you're going to fix this? Or would like to
go back to your house alone and lick those wounds?” 

Grant pulled his daughter into his lap, smoothed
the strawberry blonde curls, then kissed the tears from Annie's cheeks while he
waited for his racing heart to slow. God, the screams that woke him each night
were horrible and he could only imagine the scenes playing out in her sleep.
Never waking fully, Annie's small body released the tension, relaxing against
his chest, and given their experiences this last week, he knew she'd drifted
back into a deeper sleep.

After settling Annie back in her bed, Grant made
his way to the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee pot. Although she would
now remain asleep through the rest of the night, he was wide-awake. Now the
reruns and recriminations could begin. Despite the counselor's reassurances
that Annie's dreams were normal, given what she'd been through, Grant was still
struggling to prevent his anxiety from creeping in and taking over his own
life.

It had been nearly a week since they'd returned to
Phoenix, but they still hadn't returned home. Enwright had put them in a three-bedroom
casita on his extensive estate, the top-notch security an absolute barrier to
the press, while the police completed their investigation. He'd needed to know
the evidence proved to everyone's satisfaction that the nightmare was truly
over. In his effort to protect his daughter, he'd ended up keeping the two of
them in near isolation. In that time, Grant had become truly expert at second-guessing
every decision, every life choice he'd ever made.

When he wasn't worrying about Annie, he was
consumed with guilt for leaving RJ and Patti behind to deal with the fallout of
the investigation. He'd heard enough from the cops and Enwright's people to
know both of them had faced some serious questions about the shooting.
Especially Patti because of her law enforcement background. Toss in the
apparently “stable” school administrator and the death of the two high school
boys, and this was a movie-of the-week waiting to happen. Was it any wonder he hadn’t
heard from Patti or RJ?

Despite his inner turmoil, when he looked at the
situation objectively, he couldn't blame either of them for moving on with
their own lives after the horror of their few days together. It certainly
wasn’t what any of them had signed on for. They'd been friends a decade earlier
and that didn't necessarily equate to friends now. And in a way, Grant had been
the one to break the thin thread of a promise that had bound them all together.
After all, they'd only promised to meet up and try again if they were all
single. Technically, he might still be single, but you didn't get any more
committed than having a child. A child he loved beyond anything thing he could
have believed possible. And yet…

Patti and RJ
… No matter how he looked at
his situation, every minute he'd been with them, during the blackest moments of
his life or in the brief family time they'd spent in Sedona…he could easily
admit to himself that he'd truly felt alive. Without a doubt, he was in love
with two people.

Blowing out a breath, Grant sipped his coffee and
tried to set emotion aside and look at the situation reasonably as Gabe had
suggested during his visit yesterday.

“Grant, I know you're worried, but unless you
get a hold of your emotions, it's quite possible you're feeding into Annie's
anxieties. It's likely not just the kidnapping, but the uncertainty about your
future.”

The words had carried the force of a blow,
knocking him back, and nearly shutting his brain down at the thought of his
selfishness. Wallowing in self-pity wasn't going to do a damn thing. He just
wasn't sure what to do about the situation. Gabe's words echoed once again:

“I don't know RJ, but I do know Patti. If she
thought for one second that you wanted her, she would be here. So I'm going to
guess that you haven't talked to either of them since the night of the
shooting.”

He'd shaken his head, unable to speak.

“Have you thought that maybe the reason you’re
struggling is because the decisions you're wrestling with aren't yours to make
alone? Maybe Patti and RJ should be involved in the discussion, instead of you
trying to work it all out in your head.”

And wasn't that just the truth of the matter?
Grant needed something from the two of them and it had nothing to do with money
or job security and everything to do with love. Now, the question
remained…what, if anything, was he prepared to do about it? Was following his
heart the right thing to do for Annie…for all of them as Gabe had implied?

With a quick glance at the clock, he realized
morning had come, and it was time to get Annie ready to go. He'd promised Gabe
to do something with her today just for the fun of it, so they were headed to
Flagstaff for a Enwright Security company picnic. But when they got home? Yeah,
it was time to make a couple of phone calls and see if he couldn't convince his
lovers to give him another chance.

That time they’d spent together in Sedona hadn’t
been a fluke. Annie needed all her family with her, and so did Grant. Families
needed to stick together. It was time.

****

RJ faced the long, low building that looked more
like a hangar than an office building. Not a stretch, since the runway of the
Deer Valley Airport was visible on the other side of the structure. The drone
of small engines drifted on the heated breeze as he stood watching a small
plane do a touch and go, barely skimming the asphalt before lifting to the sky
once more.

Once again returning his attention to the purpose
of his visit, he glanced at the small copper sign affixed to a panel beside the
front door. This was indeed the home of Enwright Security. The glass doors slid
open soundlessly when he approached, and then a second set opened to the main
lobby—keeping the hot air out and the cool air in.

The space was large and airy, with a polished
concrete floor, and several couches and chairs arranged into conversational
groupings. A young man with a clipboard and a purpose strode in his direction.

“Dr. Mendez?” the man asked. RJ blinked. Jesus,
not a man. A kid. At least he hoped like hell this was a high school intern and
not another one of the new generation of gamers taking over his profession. Not
that he had anything against the innovations they brought to the field, but
Christ they made him feel old. Shaking off yet another round of self-pity, RJ
worked up a smile and stuck out his hand.

“Yes. Please, call me RJ.”

“Oh. Yes, thank you. I'm Justin Mauer. I'm an
intern, and I'm working reception this week. Follow me, Mr. Enwright is
expecting you.” The boy spoke with all the enthusiasm of a new puppy, and RJ
wondered if he should have patted his head rather than shook his hand.

They moved through the lobby, skirting the plants
and furniture, then through a set of doors that required a scan of Justin's
palm before the lock released.

Justin's voice lowered conspiratorially. “Mr.
Enwright works down here instead of in the executive wing. Everyone says it's
because he'd rather be closer to the lab rats.”

RJ scowled. “Really? I imagine it's the lab rats
who keep this company running.”

“Oh. Yes. Yes, sir, no offense. Are you a—” Justin
broke off, the flush going clear to the roots of his blond hair.

“Lab rat? You might say that.”

A door opened to his left and a tall, dark-haired
man stepped out.

“RJ, it's good to see you again. I see you found
the place. That will be all, Justin.”

Neither man spoke as they watched the intern
scuttle away, then Michael waved RJ inside a large office and closed them
inside. The first thing he noticed was the light, the second was its source.
The entire back wall was floor to ceiling window with a nearly unobstructed
view of the runway. It took a moment to realize they were probably half a mile
back and located on the other side of the airport security fence, but—

“Damn! this is cool,” RJ said as he made his way
uninvited to stare out the window. “This place is nothing like the corporate
offices I was expecting. And I did my research…is the website a decoy?”

“Not at all. We have offices in downtown Phoenix,
which are more convenient for many of our corporate clients. This location is
relatively new for us. The price was right and the location ideal for those of
us living in the north side of the valley. Employees can work from either
location.”

“Not to mention the cool view,” RJ grinned.

“Exactly!” Michael led them away from the window
and indicated RJ should sit at the conference table. “Help yourself if you want
some coffee,” he said, pointing to the carafe and cups.

RJ shook his head. “I think I'm probably wound up
enough over this interview,” he admitted. “And I need to thank you for
everything your staff has done to help me after the shooting.”

Michael sat back and studied him for a minute
before speaking. “The shooting is not related to this discussion. And you're a cut-to-the-chase
kind of man, hmm? I can appreciate that. Let's not play games. I know of the
work you've done with Marker…although how you could tolerate working so many
years for such a sanctimonious bigot is beyond me…” Michael paused, his silence
begging an explanation.

“I was unaware of his politics until I was locked
into a contract through his tuition program.” RJ shrugged. “It was a damn good
job for a fresh-out-of-college researcher. I didn't realize my personal
politics and his would end up being at odds. On the other hand, Michael…I'm not
sure how my personal life or beliefs are relevant. Is this a condition of
employment?”

Michael grinned and leaned forward, his elbows on
the table. “Nope. Remind me to keep you and Liz separated. She heads everything
related to company policy and management. She would likely eviscerate me for
even bringing it up. All right, so I have your resume, my private research into
your work projects at Marker, and Graeme's observations of you during the
Anderson kidnapping. I'm interested, but I want to know who else you're talking
with and who's seen your tracker.”

It was RJ's turn to lean back and study the other
man. Unless he was reading the situation very badly, he was going to get a job
offer before the conversation was over. At RJ's request, the interview was more
than a week later than originally scheduled. He'd needed the time to get his
thoughts in order, to make sure he could return to Phoenix after everything
that had happened. Not employment-wise. If Michael didn't offer him a job, he
was confident enough in his abilities and the product he'd designed to know he
would get an offer somewhere. No, he was much more concerned with how to deal
with the emotional void left in the aftermath of the brief time he'd spent with
Grant and Patti.

Before he'd arrived for their little reunion, he'd
spent months—years—trying to convince himself that their experiences in college
could be filed under youthful experimentation. Ménage was nothing to be
repeated and certainly not a way people lived on a permanent basis. Then his
first night here in town, before they'd learned about Annie, RJ sat through
drinks and guiltily hoped that he and Patti could at least still have a chance.
Until she couldn't stop talking about Grant and he'd realized that even after
all these years she was still in love with their former lover.

After their time together, both during the
kidnapping and the time they'd spent in Sedona, the truth of the situation…of
his life…became crystal clear. RJ Mendez had been lying to himself for over a
decade. He was in love with two people. And there just was no place to put that
in the real world, was there?

So, he'd had a week to know this
shit-or-get-off-the-pot moment was coming and he'd separated the decision into
two distinct concerns. If he was unable to spend the future with the people he
loved, then his personal life would never be right again, no matter where he
worked, no matter where he lived. So removing that as a consideration, he had
to focus on the professional aspect of his life now. And having seen on a very
up close and personal level the scope of services offered, there was no place
he'd rather be than Enwright Security.

As if he'd been following RJ's inner dialog,
Michael reached a hand out and squeezed his arm, drawing his attention back to
the present.

“How are you really doing, RJ? Are you sure you're
ready for this discussion yet?” Michael asked.

“Sorry, it's been a long week. I'm not talking
with anyone else and I won't unless you tell me you're not interested. I'm not
a game player in that sense. You want top designed simulations and product
development, then I'm your man.”

Michael studied him for a long moment, then smiled,
as if pleased by RJ’s response. “Did you clear your calendar for the day? As I
said on the phone, there are some things I need to show you.”

“Sure. I'm all yours.”

“Good, let's go for a ride. We can talk more in
the car.” Michael stood, and moved quickly, as if afraid RJ would change his
mind. He grabbed his keys and a gym bag from the side of his desk. “Let's go.”

Blinking in surprise at the swift change in
conversational direction, RJ asked, “Where are we headed?”

“A company picnic of sorts. I think it's only fair
to let you see what you're letting yourself in for if you accept a position
with Enwright Security.”