Yesterday's Echo (3 page)

The deep-water voice turned me around.

“Good luck on the job hunt, Rick.” He gave me the dead eyes. He knew my name without me giving it to him. What else did he
know? “If you need a character reference, feel free to have your next potential employer give me a call.”

Stone flowed out of the dining room like a lazy stream. No hurry, now back in command of his world. He pulled a cell phone from his breast pocket as he turned down the entry and out of the restaurant.

When I locked up the restaurant at twelve thirty a.m., a shadow moved across the etched glass window as I double-checked the front door. I spun around and found Melody. A dark leather coat now covered the upper half of the killer dress and her hair was pulled up under a black San Francisco Giants ball cap. Black tennis shoes had replaced her heels.

“Melody.” In the light of a patio lamp I noticed that her left eye was swollen and bloodshot. Stone must have found her in spite of my schoolboy heroics. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes I'm fine.” The words came out fast and ran together. Her good eye, a black drop in a white circle of fear, scanned the night. “But I need your help. I think someone's following me.”

“Stone? Did he hit you?”

“No. I don't know.”

I'd already broken my rule of not getting involved once tonight and now that had mutated into a black eye and a midnight cry for help. What would my next involvement lead to?

I offered my cell phone to Melody. “Call nine-one-one. I'll wait with you until the police arrive.”

“I don't want the police. I just need to go someplace safe.” Her eyes tugged at me like a scared child. “Just for a little while.”

Even rookie beat cops know the danger of getting involved in a domestic dispute. But that's why they were cops, and I wasn't anymore. They got paid to run into danger; I got paid to lock and unlock a restaurant.

“There's nothing I can do that the police can't do better.” I slid my hands around her leather-clad biceps. There were taut, ready for fight or flight. “The safest place for you is the police station.
It's only a couple blocks away. I can walk or drive you over there.”

“I'll be fine on my own.” Her eyes shimmered as they filled with liquid. She backed away from me into the night. “Goodbye, Rick.”

The husky gravel in her voice cracked into raspy sand. The way Colleen's used to when our fights ended in tears. Just like the last night I'd ever see her.

“Come on.” I extended my hand.

“Where are we going?” She stayed in the darkness.

“Someplace safe.”

She took my hand and we climbed the steps that lead up from the courtyard to Prospect Street. When we hit the top step, I saw headlights creeping down the street toward us. I spun and hugged Melody.

“Play along while this car passes,” I said.

She tightened, but hid her face between my neck and shoulder and wrapped her arms around my waist. I caught the scent of cinnamon and a trace of lavender as I pressed my cheek against her head. Her breath was warm on my neck.

I gently turned us so I could spy the street. The headlights belonged to an SUV. Big, black, tinted windows. A Ford Expedition. It passed in a steady crawl. No front plate. Parked cars blocked the view of the back. I watched it until it disappeared around a bend.

“Okay.” I loosened my grip around her waist, but didn't let go.

Melody stayed still for a second, then slowly turned her head, sliding her cheek along mine until she was facing me. The only thing between us was the bill of her Giants cap pressed against my brow. Her lips, full, cushiony, inviting. Her eyes, obsidian ciphers. We hung there, suspended, our breath comingling.

Melody moved first. A half step backward. “I guess we'd better go.”

I grabbed her hand like it'd been my idea to break the trance and led her onto the street.

We hustled down Prospect toward Cave Street and the bank
parking lot that held my car. A thick breeze off the ocean chilled the night. I scanned both sides of the street as we passed palm trees, restaurants, jewelers, and art galleries, but didn't see anyone who wanted to steal my restaurant or punch Melody. Just another autumn night in the Jewel by the Sea.

When we hit the parking lot, a rat the size of an heiress's purse dog shot out from a hedge and scampered up a palm tree. Melody whiplashed but didn't scream.

Safely nestled in the palm fronds on top of the tree, the rat could look out over paradise and plan its next intrusion into it.

The drive home I made every night in my Mustang GT suddenly seemed unfamiliar. The night was cast-iron black and every pair of headlights assaulted my eyes. Melody didn't ask where we were going. She sat hunched down with the brim of her hat pulled low over her eyes. Her right hand clutched the door handle. She was scared, hiding from the night, but ready to escape into it.

We drove in silence along Torrey Pines Road, the main artery out of downtown La Jolla. I lived in North Clairemont, a few miles east of La Jolla off Highway 52. There the ocean was only a memory, occasionally recalled through one of the cooling breezes it sent inland. The coastal hills rolled flat as they made their way east and then climbed one final time up to a mesa where houses, duplexes, and apartments sat cramped together.

A pair of headlights followed me off the freeway. I made a couple of turns, but the headlights were still there. They were wide set and high off the ground like they belonged to an SUV. Just like the one I saw crawling down Prospect Street.

“Was the person following you in a black Ford Expedition?” I asked.

“I don't know.” Her voice unsteady. “It was a big, dark SUV.”

The Expedition seemed to rule out Stone. A Cadillac Escalade seemed more his style. Whoever it was, they were still behind me.

When my next turn came up, I kept my foot on the gas until the last second then slammed on the brakes and made a hard right. Melody rolled toward me until her hand on the door handle stopped her. Her eyes were wide as she looked at me and then over the seat at the night behind. I stood on the gas and glanced over
my shoulder. Our pursuer slid around the corner and accelerated toward us.

My heart jackhammered in my chest, and I gunned the car down the dimly lit street. The charging headlights flashed to brights. I downshifted hard and cranked a left turn on the next street, cut my headlights, and dropped down another gear. The transmission groaned and the car bucked, but I made a quick right without flashing my brake lights. I gunned it a hundred yards, then slammed to a stop in front of an RV parked under a towering eucalyptus tree.

Melody had already slid down in her seat and I followed her lead, but kept my eyes on the driver's-side mirror. A cone of light appeared in the intersection behind us and then a dark mega-SUV sped by. I'd lost them. For now. But they knew my car and, if they were friends of Stone, they knew my name, too.

“Melody, who's after you?” My voice matched my elevated heartbeat.

“I don't know!”

I didn't believe her. But right now it didn't matter. The truth could come later. Safely home came first.

I eased back onto the road leaving my lights off. We were only a few blocks away from my house and I figured I could Braille my way there. Neither of us spoke again, perhaps afraid that if we broke the silence we'd give ourselves away and the SUV would return.

A block from home, another set of headlights approached from the opposite side of the street. Too low to the ground to belong to an SUV. Still, Melody sank down in her seat. When it got closer, I could make out a light bar on top of the vehicle. A cop car or private security. This was North Clairemont, not La Jolla. Closest people here got to gated communities were tailgate parties at the stadium before Charger games.

I switched on my headlights. Too late. A blast of white light exploded inside my car. I braked to a stop and threw an arm in front of my face to block the invasion of light. It stayed pinned on
me, but also caught Melody below the bill of her cap. I expected a command to turn off the ignition and step out of the car. Nothing.

I rolled down the window and squinted behind my arm.

“Is there a reason you were driving your vehicle with the lights off?” A gruff voice hidden behind the floodlight.

In my experience as a cop, there were only two reasons people drove at night with their lights off. They were drunk or they were casing a house. I could now add evading mysterious SUVs to the list, but I didn't think that would sound plausible. But telling the cop the truth could be a way to turn Melody's problems over to him. Then I could deal with my own. I glanced at Melody. Eyes hidden under the bill of her cap, lips pinched tight, and a hand squeezed around the door handle.

Scared, but brave.

“My girlfriend and I were arguing so I pulled over and turned off the lights. I was just a bit late turning them back on. Sorry.” Maybe I thought I could handle someone else's problems better than my own. Maybe I thought I'd get lucky if I played hero for Melody. Maybe I wasn't thinking at all.

The floodlight shifted to Melody's face, the mouse under her eye highlighted in white relief. Melody put her hand on the bill of her cap, shielding her face.

“Is everything okay, ma'am?”

Great. Now I was in the middle of my own domestic dispute. I shot at glance toward the voice, but the floodlight blasted my face again before I could see who was behind it. I did get a look at the car, though. Black-and-white cruiser. Real police.

“I'm fine, officer.” Melody's voice was calm, friendly. She was good. A chameleon. “Just tired and anxious to get home.”

This cop was operating off the manual for a late-night vehicle stop. He should have been out of his car with my license in his hand or had me against my car assuming the position if he wanted to be a hard guy. I'd given him enough ammo; driving with lights off, woman with a freshly swollen eye.

No complaints. I'd never been a manual guy myself.

“Try to obey the law from now on.”

The black-and-white drove off, but kept the floodlight plastered on me until it finally went black half a block down the street. Must have gotten lucky and caught the cop at the end of his shift. He'd probably had a long day and just wanted to get home safely. Just like me.

“Thank you.” Melody touched my hand on the steering wheel.

“For what?”

“For still being that old-fashioned gentleman who guarded the bathroom door tonight.”

If old-fashioned meant stupid, then call me a gentleman.

I pulled down my street and parked around the corner from my house and left the carport empty. If the Expedition stumbled onto my block, I didn't want to make it easy for them to find my house.

Melody clung to my hand as we hustled the couple hundred yards to my house. Inside, I tossed my keys onto an end table and led Melody through the dark living room over to the front window. I peeked out at the street through Venetian blinds.

“Is anyone out there?” Her hand squeezed mine, nervous breath on my neck.

“No. Must have lost them.” I dropped Melody's hand, found the switch on the wall, and turned on the ceiling light.

The room illuminated and Melody came into clear view for the first time since she surprised me outside Muldoon's. A purple welt on her left cheekbone pinched in on a bloodshot eye. The rest of her looked just fine. Beautiful. Magnetic. Her leather jacket was cut short and tight to her black dress. Tanned, athletic legs gleamed below the hem. Only the Giants cap and the tennis shoes didn't belong. And yet, they did.

“You were pretty impressive in that car.” The worry now out of her voice, replaced by a confident growl that again reminded me of Colleen. “I'm guessing you've done that before.”

“I've done a lot of stupid things.” I went into the kitchen.

“I hope helping me isn't one more of them.” Melody stood in the doorway, hip against the frame like she owned it.

“Me, too.” I smiled like it wasn't a big deal. “You want some ice for that eye?”

“No, thank you. but I wouldn't mind some in a glass.”

“What would you like to go with it?”

“Anything that will make me cough if I take a big enough sip.”

I grabbed two rocks glasses from the cabinet above the sink, then pulled down a bottle of Herradura Tequila off the top of the refrigerator and some orange juice and ice from inside it. Just enough ice for a chill, three fingers of tequila and a splash of OJ for color.

I handed Melody her drink, walked over to the back door, and opened it. Midnight, my black Labrador retriever, bounded in. He reared up, slapped his front paws on my chest, and licked my chin. He walked over to Melody, and she scratched his square head and cooed dog talk to him.

“Looks like Midnight has a new friend.”

“He's adorable.”

Melody liked my dog and seemed to like me. But her world was dangerous. Nowadays, my idea of danger was a green guarded by water with a long iron in my hand.

“Time to tell me what's going on.”

I took Melody's hand and led her back into the living room to a beige chenille sofa fronted by a maple coffee table. I set my drink down on a coaster and pulled the sleeve of her jacket off her free hand. She slid her back to me and I caught another whiff of her perfume as I took the coat off her bare shoulders. She took off her baseball cap, shook down her hair, and sat down on the sofa. I hung her coat in the hall closet and tossed the Giants cap onto the pile of hats on the upper shelf.

I sat next to Melody and she pushed off her tennis shoes and tucked bare feet underneath her. She took a sip of her drink and eyed me above the rim of the glass. Comfy. Cozy. Inviting. Tempting me to forget about the night's events and roll with the moment.

The moment didn't pass, but I tried to ignore it. For now.