Tangled Souls (22 page)

“Yo, baby! Nice buns!” the parrot shouted.

Gavenia leered from the door. “I couldn’t have said it better, Seamus.”

O’Fallon pointed toward the door. “Outside!” He turned the television to the shopping channel. “See if you like that all day, old buddy.” As he locked up, Seamus issued a series of piercing wolf whistles.

The negotiations continued when they reached the parking lot. Feeling testy, O’Fallon refused to allow the
sugar junkie
, as he’d dubbed her, to get behind the wheel of a car. He predicted dire results when the substance evaporated from her system, leaving her without a working brain.

“Well, I’m not driving to Malibu in a car that has a broken window,” Gavenia said, pointing to the duct-tape-and-cardboard substitute he’d fashioned for the Chevy.

He pointed at her car. “No back seat. If you’re okay with having the mutt sit on your lap all the way home...”

“Got it. Your car, you’re driving. Let’s cruise!”

“Oh, Goddess, you have to be kidding. I’m directionally challenged.”

“You can’t read a map?” he asked in disbelief.

“I’m okay with maps, I’m just not really great with directions. Maybe I could drive and you could navigate.”

He was shaking his head before she finished.

“No way.” He pointed toward the map again. “Work it out.”

Muttering under her breath, Gavenia unfolded it, flipped it around a couple of times, and then asked, “Okay, which side is the ocean supposed to be on?”

“What?” he sputtered.

Gotcha.
“Just kidding. I think you need to go about”—she did the math—“four more miles and turn . . .” She thought it through, staring at her hands. “Watch, I mean . . .”

“Watch?”

“Hey, give me a break. I can’t remember left from right, so I go by
watch
or
bracelet
,” she said, pointing to each in turn.

“What if you’re not wearing them?” O’Fallon asked, apparently intrigued by her mental acrobatics.

“Then I’m screwed.” She paused and added, “But I’m really good with up and down.”

“I’ll remember that if we’re ever in a submarine.”

When she laughed, he joined in. For a brief moment, the day seemed brighter.

Once O’Fallon made the required turn, Gavenia hunted around for Bart. She found him in the backseat wearing a set of wraparound sunglasses, jeans, and a T-shirt that said
Whaddaya Mean This Isn’t Heaven?
He had a folded beach towel on his lap and a tube of sunscreen.

“Over the top,” she said, without thinking. That earned her a puzzled look from O’Fallon. “Sorry, just regrouping my brains.”

“I warned you about all that sugar.”

If that were my only problem . . .

* * *

In her mind’s eye, Gavenia figured the beach house would be a two-bedroom affair with a broad porch facing the ocean, sort of an upscale cabin. Instead they were confronted with a large two-story house with a wraparound porch, hot tub, massive glass windows, and a broad expanse of beach.

“Some serious bucks here,” she muttered, leaning against the deck rail, gazing at the ocean. “You know, maybe I should start trading out my services for a few weekends at a place like this.”

“I doubt anyone would fault you,” O’Fallon remarked, taking his place next to her. He leaned forward, hands on the railing, almost relaxed. She wondered if he ever really let loose.

As another wave rolled in to shore, Gavenia took a deep breath, inhaling the heavy salt air. “It’s so beautiful here.”

“And quiet.”

“Yes.”

“Which isn’t good.”

“Pardon?” she asked. That didn’t make much sense.

“It means no Merlin.”

Gavenia groaned, jerked back to reality like a puppy on a short leash.

“I’ll check out the house,” O’Fallon suggested, resuming his usual uptight posture. It seemed at odds with his casual clothes.

Gavenia wasn’t ready to return to the moment. “Give me a few minutes here. I’m . . . recharging.”

He chuckled and extended his palm. She dug in her purse and extracted the key and the security code.

“I could have hacked this,” he said, waving the paper in the air. “It’s Alliford’s birthday.”

She turned her attention to the call of the ocean as he marched around the side of the house. She heard a door open, a series of beeps, then silence.

Gavenia closed her eyes and took deep, cleansing breaths, allowing the sea air to flow into her lungs. She imagined the seabirds in the air over the water, wheeling in the wind with a freedom she envied. Sunlight rippled off their wings; their shrill cries filled the air. Beneath them the rumbling waves were a counterpoint, like the deep breaths.

When she opened her eyes, O’Fallon was back, standing quietly, respecting her moment of peace. Without thinking, she gave him a soft smile, and he returned it. In the sunlight he appeared years younger.

“I could live here,” he said, gazing toward the moving water. “But I like Ireland better.”

“I’ve never been there. Is it as beautiful as they say?”

His eyes returned to study her. “More.”

“Then I’ll go there someday.”

“I’d be happy to show you around. You could meet my gran. She’s an amazing old lady.”

Did he just invite you home to meet his grandmother?
Bart chirped, grinning like a two-year-old.

Gavenia switched subjects. “So what did you find inside?”

For a second O’Fallon looked chagrined, as if he’d been caught shirking his duty.

She put her hand on his arm. “It’s okay to unwind every now and then. That’s why you retired, wasn’t it?”

He put on his cop face. “I found a dog’s bowl and some drug paraphernalia.”

“So Janet and Merlin were here.”

“Looks like it.”

“How long ago?”

“It’s been a while. The food in the bowl is rock hard.”

“Patience,” she whispered. He gave her a curious look. “The Patience card. Sometimes things don’t reveal themselves until the proper moment.”

She could see he understood. Probably part of his detective DNA. She swept her eyes the length of the deck and found Bart reclining on a chaise lounge at the far end, mellow to the extreme.

He delivered a knowing grin.
I’d stay and enjoy the scenery.
I hear the ocean is gorgeous at night.

The sunglasses flapped back down. End of conversation.

Gavenia announced her decision. “We’re staying, at least for the time being.”

O’Fallon’s mouth fell open. “Why?”

“Merlin is here, somewhere. I feel him. So we might as well enjoy the beach house, get some food, and”—she gestured toward the ocean—“watch the sunset.”

“I . . . uh . . .”

She scrutinized him, amused by his flustered behavior.

“You got a hot date?”

He frowned at the question. “How late are we going to stay?”

“As long as it takes.”

He processed that and then consulted his watch. “I have to make arrangements for Seamus,” he said, pulling his cell phone off the belt clip attached to his jeans. He walked farther down the deck and stopped just short of Bart’s chaise.

“I better call Ari, or I’m in deep trouble,” Gavenia said, digging in her purse for her own phone. Someone else was going to man the shelter’s sink tonight.

* * *

At the bottom of the stairs leading from the deck onto the beach, O’Fallon kicked off his deck shoes and rolled the legs of his jeans to his knees. Gavenia did the same, revealing two jagged white scars on her left calf. Her legs were pale, proving she wasn’t a sun bunny.

“Welsh skid marks,” she said, pointing at her calf.

He rolled the right leg of his jeans up a bit farther and pointed to a long white scar.

“We’re a matched set.”

“Bar fight with a midget?” she joked.

He shook his head. “Drunken stupidity. I got wasted after a girl dumped me, jumped on my motorcycle, and ran it off the road.”

“They nail you for DUI?” she asked.

“Nope, but it was the last straw for my gran. She shipped me to the States to live with my great-aunt.”

“How old were you?”

“Just seventeen.”

“Ugly lesson.”

“Most of ’em are.”

Three steps into the sand and Gavenia halted, wavering on her feet.

“This isn’t going to work,” she said. The cane was useless.

“You’re right. Give it to me and I’ll leave it on the deck.”

She shook her head instantly. “I can’t walk without it.”

“With my help you can.” She didn’t move, reminding O’Fallon of a doe blinded by an 18-wheeler’s headlights.

“Ah, I don’t know about this.” She wavered on her feet again.

He extended his hand, palm up. “Trust me.” Her brow furrowed. “We’re burning daylight here,” he urged.

The frown deepened, but she relinquished the cane—with great reluctance. By the time he returned to her side, she was edging forward in the sand like a toddler taking her first tentative steps. He slipped his left hand around her waist. She stiffened and then relaxed. They took a few cautious steps forward, hips bumping.

“How’s that?” he asked.

“I’d feel safer with the cane.” He gave her a hurt look and she shrugged in response.

“See, it works,” he said, pleased with the results as they matched strides. “You walk pretty well without that thing. Why do you use it?”

She abruptly halted, putting him off-balance. “I don’t see that’s any of your business.”

“Okay, it’s none of my business. Why do you use it?”

The frown returned. He pulled her back into place and they continued along the beach while he waited for an answer.

“Because it makes me feel safe.”

“Safe?”

“It just does.”

He felt there was more, but he wasn’t likely to hear it. After a quarter mile or so of tandem trudging, she stopped and rubbed her left thigh.

“Great exercise,” she said. “Hurts like hell.”

“Time to go back?” he asked.

She looked up the stretch of beach and hesitated.

“What are you sensing?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s all a jumble.”

While he waited for her to make a decision, O’Fallon stared at his pale feet. “I forgot how weird sand feels between your toes,” he admitted.

She laughed, mashing the stuff between her own toes. “So did I.”

“Why do we rush to become adults and then forget how to be kids?” he asked.