“I’ll talk to the staff, see if one of them spoke to him,” his father said.
“And I’ll call the caterers,” she added. “You never know.”
You never did know, Reed thought a short time later as he and his dad walked to his Tahoe. He’d found his father’s behavior tonight troubling. The chameleonlike quality, his evasiveness. Even Joe’s unease and quick departure.
“I didn’t appreciate that, Dan.”
“What’s that?”
His dad lit a cigar, then met Reed’s gaze through a haze of smoke. “Coming up here, confronting your brother that way. Then questioning me and your mother.”
“Too bad. Besides, Mom brought up Tom’s murder.”
“You will not disrespect me that way.”
Reed stopped, turned fully toward his father. “Until tonight, I didn’t realize how good you are at hiding the truth, Dad. You really have kept Mom in the dark about everything, haven’t you?”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“Do you manipulate everyone? Your wife and kids? Business associates? Friends? Where does it stop?”
“You calling me a liar, Son?”
“You tell me, Dad. Are you?”
“Get the hell off my property. Nobody calls me a liar. Especially not one of my own children.”
They reached the SUV. Reed unlocked his car door, then swung to face his father. “The night Dylan Sommer disappeared, you and Mom were having dinner with Patsy and Harlan.”
He looked startled by the change in subject. “Yes.”
“Where?”
“Here.”
“You’re certain about that?”
“Yes, dammit. I was sure of it then, I’m sure of it now.”
So why, Reed wondered, did he think he was lying? “And Patsy, when did she do her Boys of the Vine thing?”
“When?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Joe didn’t tell you?”
“It didn’t seem that important. After they got out of school, I suppose. When we were all at work.”
“Where’d they meet?”
“I don’t know-Why does it matter?”
“How often?”
“Often enough to steal our boys’ innocence!”
“Has it occurred to you that Dylan might have been stolen by one of the boys? One who was jealous? Or the family of one of the minors. Or Harlan himself.”
“That’s ridiculous. They were just boys.”
“You took that call from Tom, didn’t you, Dad?”
“The hell I did. I already told you-”
“And the Boys of the Vine thing, if it’s not an outright lie, there’s more to it. What aren’t you telling me?”
“Go. Get off my property.” His voice shook. “You’re not welcome back until you’re ready to apologize.”
Reed opened the car door and slid behind the wheel, then looked back at his dad. “By the way, Pop, I choose my own relationships. Don’t warn a woman away from me again.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Tuesday, March 16
2:30 A.M.
Alex opened her eyes to find Tim standing by the bed, staring down at her. A chill raced up her spine.
“Tim? What’re you doing?”
“Watching you.”
She looked past him, saw one of her kitchen chairs. “Have you been here all night?”
“It’s not morning yet.”
She glanced at the bedside clock and saw that it was still the wee hours of the night. “You need to go get some sleep.”
He looked away, then back, expression rueful. “I’m still in love with you, Alex.”
“Tim, this isn’t the time for-”
“It’s not about sex. It’s not. Once upon a time, maybe. I’m stupid, I admit it.”
He let out a strangled-sounding breath. “When you called me, I felt this incredible relief. I’d thought I’d lost you. Then tonight, when I saw you holding that other man, I felt… everything a man in that situation could. Jealousy and rage. Regret. Longing. Hatred.”
She sat up, bringing the blanket up with her. “This is making me really uncomfortable.”
“I don’t mean to make you feel that way. I’m just-” He knelt beside the bed and gathered her hand in his, brought it to his lips. “I’ve missed you so much.”
She wanted to argue with him. Wanted to remind him of all the reasons why they hadn’t made it as a couple. She sensed she had better keep her thoughts to herself and swallowed hard.
He turned her hand over and kissed her palm. “Sitting here, watching over you last night, I realized something. This is what I’m supposed to be doing. Where I’m supposed to be. Watching over you, Alex.”
She’d never seen him quite this way. The note of urgency and desperation in his voice was a surprise. It was unsettling. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Right now, don’t say anything. I’m promising you, I’m here for you. Whatever happens. Whatever you need. You’re not crazy, Alex. We’ll get to the bottom of all this. We’ll do it together.”
“You’re exhausted,” she said softly. “You need sleep. And so do I. Let’s pick this up in the morning? Okay?”
“Sure, babe.” He bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be on the couch.” He crossed to the door, then stopped and looked back at her. “I really do love you.”
“I love you, too.”
But as she scooted back under the covers, she acknowledged that there were many kinds of love. And the kind she had for Tim was more complicated than most.
The next morning, she awakened to the smell of coffee. And something baking. Cookies? Muffins?
Cinnamon rolls, she learned minutes later as she entered the kitchen, teeth and hair brushed, dressed in a pair of faded old jeans and a Cal State sweatshirt. Tim had just taken the pastries from the oven and was slathering icing on them.
He caught sight of her and smiled. “Morning.”
She crossed to the coffeepot and poured herself a mug. “How long have you been up?”
“Long enough to run up to the corner market for the paper, some cream and a roll of the Pillsbury Doughboy’s finest. Have a seat. I’ll bring you one.”
“Thanks.” She sat at the table and curved her hands around the warm mug and sipped.
“There you go.” He set a plate in front of her, then went back for his. A moment later, he sat across from her and dug in.
She watched him eat a moment, then shook her head. “What’s going on, Tim?”
“Nothing. Why?” He took a huge forkful of the warm roll.
“You’re not a morning person.”
“This morning I am.” He got to his feet, refilled his cup, then returned to the table. “I’ve got to head back today. I’ve got a faculty meeting this morning.”
Tim was leaving? The realization shouldn’t have shaken her, but it did. “Do you have to?”
“It’s a command performance.”
“I don’t know what I’ll do.”
He grinned. “That’s what I like to hear.”
She meant it. What would she do? There was no need to ask any more questions about the past or her mother-she knew more now than she wanted to.
Boys of the Vine.
She wished she could go back. Wished she had left all this alone. Stayed in San Francisco, clinging to the photograph of her mother and Dylan and her foolish belief that her mother had been as much of a victim as Dylan had been.
“I know what you need.” She cocked an eyebrow and he laughed. “No, I didn’t mean that, though you probably do need it. A spa day.”
She burst out laughing. “Right. A spa day.”
“The Kenwood Inn and Spa is just down Sonoma Highway. My first wife adored the place. We spent one Valentine’s Day weekend there.”
“I can’t afford that.”
“I’ll pay.”
“I can’t accept that.”
“Too bad, it’s already done.”
“What do you mean, already done?”
“Just what it sounds like. I booked you a spa day. It’s paid for in full. Consider it a birthday gift.”
A birthday… and then she remembered, tomorrow was her birthday. With everything that had been happening, she’d forgotten. “I can’t believe you. When did you do this?”