The Heart Has Reasons (51 page)

“We
can offer you protection.”

“Yeah,
‘til the trial be over.  Then we be fucked.”

Unfortunately,
it was a concise assessment of the situation.  The bureau would gladly
take the three men into protective custody.  But, whether or not they
managed to convict O’Malley, once the trial was over the men would be on their
own.  Jarvis said nothing for a moment, thinking.  “You realize that
if you persist in sticking with this new story, we’ll have no choice but to charge
you with breaking into O’Malley’s vehicle, in addition to the charge of giving
a false statement.”

Waddell
glared at him, jaw working.  “Go on then, arrest my black ass!”

“It’ll
be a violation of the terms of your parole.  You’ll go back to prison.”

“Yo,
I don’ give a fuck!”

Jarvis
kept his expression carefully neutral.  A thug like Malik Waddell deserved
to be in prison and he’d like nothing more than to see him return.  But he
also wanted O’Malley incarcerated.  With Larissa Santos refusing to identify
him, and without the testimonies of Malik and his two friends, O’Malley was
going to walk.

* * * * *

Upon arrival at home that evening, Edison
Jarvis let himself into the house and strode into the kitchen where Encarnita
was setting the table, her waist-length black hair pulled back into a low
ponytail.  She stretched up on tiptoe to give him a welcoming kiss, then
peered up at him curiously.  “
Ché ha pasado?
”

“We
had to cut O’Malley loose.  The three men who put Larissa Santos tied up
and gagged in the back of his vehicle have recanted their stories.”

“I
see.  Would it improve your mood if I told you we were having
tamales
pisque
for dinner?”

Jarvis
smiled and leaned down to bestow an additional kiss upon his wife.  “It
would indeed.”

Well,
mi amor
, why don’t you go and change while I finish setting the table?”

Jarvis
considered himself blessed to have found Encarnita.  Not only did she make
him deliriously happy, at forty-four, she had the body of a woman twenty years
her junior.  He attributed this to the fact that they’d never had
children.

In
the bedroom, he shrugged out of his suit jacket and hung it in the
closet.  He’d always expected that he’d have children someday, even though
he’d never felt any pressing need to reproduce.  Maybe that came from being
in law enforcement and seeing firsthand the horrible things people did to one
another.

He
stuffed his shirt in the hamper, then paused as he caught sight of his
reflection in the mirror.  Thick, dark, keloid scars marked the two
long-healed gunshot wounds, one on his shoulder, one on the deltoid.  He
tugged a polo shirt on over his head, smiling at the memory of how he’d
received the scars.

He
and Encarnita had never bothered with birth control, and yet she’d never gotten
pregnant.  He’d asked her, once, “Do you mind that we don’t have
children?”

She’d
shrugged.  “I’m happy with our life the way it is.  Who knows,
bambinos
might change things for the worse.”

Jarvis
had seen that happen to the men he worked with.  They complained that once
their wives had given birth they were too tired for sex and no longer seemed to
care as much about their appearance.  But the men didn’t seem to
understand that raising a child was a full-time job.  Not to mention that
the wives usually had to take on a second —
paying
— job to help make
ends meet.

Due
to the culture in which she’d been raised, Encarnita believed that a woman
should take care of her man, which she did with an abundance of loving
enthusiasm.  Unencumbered by children, she had a surplus of free time,
much of which she spent at the gym working out.  He deeply appreciated her
efforts and, in turn, was motivated to keep up his own appearance.  After
twenty-four years of marriage, not only was their love life still exciting, the
lack of children allowed them to pick up and go at a moment’s notice.

Life
was definitely good.

His
foul mood now somewhat improved, he zipped his jeans, and headed back
downstairs.

Encarnita
placed a large platter on the table.  As he dished several of the large
tamales onto his plate, she remarked, “You said the men who identified O’Malley
were criminals.  Maybe they’ve been lying all along.”

“No. 
They’re lying now.”  Anger gave his voice an edge.  “Some of
O’Malley’s buddies got to them.  O’Malley’s guilty as all hell but, with
no concrete evidence, we have absolutely no case against him.”

She
reached across the table and laid a small, brown, importuning hand on his
arm.  “If the woman has forgiven him, then maybe it’s for the best. 
I’d think that you of all people would be empathetic.”

“I’m
an FBI agent.  I don’t have the luxury of empathy.”  It came out more
brusquely than he intended, and he gave her a contrite smile.  “Sorry, I
don’t mean to take my frustrations out on you.”

“It’s
all right,
mi amor
.”

After
dinner, he helped her clear the table.  Once the dishwasher was running,
he went upstairs and dialed Larissa Santos’ number.  As usual, it rang
twice and then the answering machine came on.  He waited while the preprogrammed
message played.  “Ms. Santos, it’s Agent Jarvis.  I know you’re
there, so please pick up.”  He waited a moment before adding, “If you
don’t pick up, I’ll be forced to fly back out to Charleston.”

An
instant later, her sullen, “What do you want?” came over the line.

“Hello
to you too, Ms. Santos.  I just wanted to tell you that O’Malley’s managed
to exculpate himself.  We’ve released him.”

“Are
you serious?  You really let him go?”

“We
had no choice.  The men who saw you tied up in O’Malley’s vehicle have
recanted their stories.”

“I’ve
never been in Mr. O’Malley’s vehicle, tied up or otherwise.  I know you
don’t believe it, Agent Jarvis, but you’ve done the right thing.  It
would’ve been a tragedy if an innocent man had gone to prison.”

“We
both know O’Malley’s guilty, but we also know it would be pointless for me to
continue arguing the point with you.  I’m only telling you this so you can
be on your guard.”

“On
guard against what?”

“You’re
the one person who can send O’Malley to prison.  He may start to worry
that you’ll decide to implicate him after all.”

For
several moments, there was only silence on the line.  “Mr. O’Malley has no
reason to do me harm and, if the real kidnapper wanted to silence me, he’d have
done so long before now.  But thank you for calling.”

“Desperate
people commit desperate acts.  Please be careful, Ms. Santos.  I’d
hate for you to end up dead.”  He hit END, and looked up to find his wife
watching him from the doorway.

“That
was a little harsh, don’t you think?”

He
shrugged.  “Now we’ll see what O’Malley does.  Care to place a wager
on whether or not he contacts Ms. Santos?”

Encarnita
regarded him sadly.  “You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

“The
man abducted a woman and drove her across country.  I can’t let it go.”

CHAPTER
36

Head pillowed on the sofa’s armrest,
Chase tried, with little success, to concentrate on the novel he was
reading.  While he was overwhelmingly relieved to be out of jail, a
dreadful heaviness weighed his body down.

He
couldn’t stop thinking about Larissa.  Grief and regret for what he’d done
to her manifested itself as a constant ache in his chest.  His longing for
her would not end.  He couldn’t help but wonder how she was holding up,
and if she ever thought of him.

Or
if she thought of him with anything other than anger and hate.

When
he’d left the jail yesterday, Travis had been there to pick him up. 
They’d embraced, clapping each other on the back, and then Chase had filled his
lungs with what passed for fresh air in LA.  “Man, I can’t wait to get
home.”

“Sixteen
days in jail will do that to a man.”

“If
not for you guys, I’d still be there.  I can’t thank you enough.”

“Hey,
it was our pleasure.”

On
the drive to the impound lot to retrieve the van, Travis recounted the
abduction and ‘persuasion’ of the three punks.  “I took care of Waddell
myself,” he finished.  “Not only did the bitch faint twice, he pissed
himself.”

“I
just wish I could’ve had another go at him myself.  Jesus, by the time I
got back to the vehicle, Larissa’s pants were around her ankles and his were
around his knees.  What if I’d gotten back just a few minutes later?”

“But
you didn’t.  And apparently she’s forgiven you.”

Whiskers
rasped against his palm as he ran a weary hand across his face.  “I seriously
doubt that.”

They
both fell silent.  A song played softly on the radio, and the lyrics
suddenly grabbed Chase’s attention as the male singer apologized to his love
for the pain he’d caused her, promised to change who he was, and pleaded for a
chance to start anew.  It hit way too close to home and he barked, “Will
you turn that the fuck off.”

Travis
quickly did as requested.  “Man, you’ve really got it bad for her.”

Not
bothering to deny the obvious, Chase steeled himself for the requisite good-natured
ribbing.  When none was forthcoming, he turned to find sympathetic hazel
eyes focused on him, which was somehow worse than any ribbing would have
been.  “I always thought you’d be the last of us to take a header,” Travis
remarked.  “What you need is a distraction.  I’ve been seeing
someone, and she’s got this friend who’s incredibly hot—”

“Not
interested.”

At
the impound lot, Travis waited while he paid the fee and collected his
keys.  At first it appeared as though they’d have to jump the battery, but
finally the engine caught.  He followed Travis out of the lot.

As
he drove, he couldn’t help flashing back yet again to that last night, in that
fleabag of a motel room, where everything had been so absolutely wonderful
before it’d gone so horribly wrong.  Thinking of that night always
reminded him of the little calico cat.  For some strange reason, in his
mind, the cat and Larissa were somehow connected and he felt he’d betrayed them
both.

They
stopped at a red light.  When it turned green, Travis accelerated straight
through the intersection.  Chase started to follow and, at the last
moment, executed a hard right.  At the next intersection, he took another
right, heading back in the direction from which they’d just come.

When
his cell phone rang, he flipped it open.  “Yeah?”

“Where’re
you headed?” asked Travis.

“Nowhere
in particular.”

“Thought
you were in a hurry to get home.”

“I
suddenly felt like taking a drive.”

The
worry in Travis’ voice was plain.  “I’ll come with you.”

“Thanks,
but after sixteen days in jail, I need some alone time.”

“Chase
…”

“Word
of honor, I’m not about to do anything stupid.”

Travis
heaved a sigh over the phone.  “Okay, brother.  If you need me, don’t
hesitate to call.”

Chase
stopped at a discount store and bought half a dozen items.

Six
hours later, he pulled into the motel’s parking lot.  In the light of day,
the place was even seedier than he remembered.  He killed the engine and
got out.  “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.”

There
was no sign of the little calico.

Shit. 
Over two weeks had passed.  The little cat could have starved to death by
now.  Coyotes could have killed it.  It could have ended up as
roadkill.  Maybe one of the motel guests had decided to give it a home,
although this last seemed too much for which to hope.

He
called and called, but there was no sign of it.  As he started toward the
office to check with the desk clerk, a small, tri-colored form came hurrying
around the side of the office and paused when it spotted him.  He squatted
and called, “Kitty, kitty, kitty,” and the little calico made a beeline for
him.  The cat seemed to remember him and, as it purred and butted its head
against him, unshed tears scalded the backs of his eyes.

Jesus. 
What the fuck was wrong with him?

The
moment he slid open the cargo door, the cat sprang into the vehicle.  He
opened a can of cat food and dumped it into one of the new dishes.  As the
little calico gobbled the food, he poured cat litter into the new litter box,
and slid the door closed.  He climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled
back onto the highway.

After
polishing off the food, the cat crawled between the seats and into his
lap.  Purring loudly, it began kneading his abdomen with soft little
paws.  He drove with one hand on the steering wheel; with the other, he
rubbed and petted the cat, relieved that some of his guilt and depression
seemed to have lifted.